These essays don’t have to be read in order, but previous ones are here, here, here, and here.
Thus far, I’ve confined my series on wimin’s land mainly to the hardships. It is vital that women exploring this adventure recognize the pitfalls before committing time, energy, resources, and sacrificed opportunities to the endeavor. I do not intend to recount my experiences as a cautionary tale, however, so I will conclude this series by describing some of the wonderful things about wimmin’s land.
The best part is all the women. All the women you meet who share your beliefs and all the women who are different from you. Women who validate you and women who broaden your thinking. Even if there are only half a dozen women who call the land home, many more pass through.
As I mentioned earlier, my perspective of wimmin’s land was partially informed by visiting other lands, and denizens of wimmin’s land were enthusiastic visitors as well as hosts. Some women spent years just traveling from land to land. Some would summer in Vermont and winter in Tucson, like old rich folks, only young and poor. Some women who worked regular jobs and had regular houses would spend their week’s vacation on wimmin’s land, arriving in their campers with the kids.
Women in cities and towns close by would visit for a weekend, a day, or an evening event. While some women on the land wanted nothing to do with Goddess worship, women in the surrounding area would arrive at the solstices and equinoxes to participate in ritual. There was a symbiotic relationship between women in town and women on the land. Town women would provide respite, labor, or material resources. Women on the land would housesit and carpool to creative or political events. Some women on the land were healers, offering services for donation or barter. The land was also a low cost option to hold a workshop, albeit without the amenities.
You could always find someone on the land to pat your back or listen when you felt frustrated or sad. There were always women up for deep discussions about politics or spirituality or books. These were real discussions, where you explored areas of agreement, listened to other perspectives, and allowed yourself to be persuaded, not the competitive debating style of communication favored by most men.
In the evening, at least a few times a week, there would be campfires and singing. Some women brought instruments, but we had a supply of rattles and drums. Potlucks might be impromptu or planned, attended by town women who had real kitchens.
Children loved the drumming sessions, campfires, and ritual, but they also created their own entertainment. They liked to write and perform plays, and they would write their handbills on scraps of paper and pass them around. Like parents summoned to the school play, women would obediently turn out for the performance.
There were a lot of hard times on the land, as I’ve described elsewhere, but calamity can occur in other places, too. If we had more than our share of hardship, we never went through anything alone. Always there were women around to celebrate and women to share the load.