“The Fierce Feminine Isn’t Afraid to Take up Space” by Tamara Albanna
I was always on a diet, it seems.
Even as a child I was told not to eat too much—so I didn’t, in front of people anyway. Food was scarce, so I comfort-ate wherever I could to cope with the abuse I suffered on a daily basis. This of course became the precursor to an eating disorder later on in life.
When I look at pictures of myself from 20 years ago, I can recall I was on a diet then too, despite the fact I was already so slim. It was around that time that someone close to me said, “I can’t take you there looking like that!”
She was referring to going “home” to Baghdad to see extended family. I clearly wasn’t in the best shape I could be in, despite being at my lowest weight as an adult. There was so much value put on my appearance—and most importantly the size of my waist—that I assumed everyone in Baghdad must be thin as rails for one reason or another. Of course, this was completely illogical, but the obsession to make oneself almost disappear in a patriarchal society didn’t make sense to me until much later on.
They were trying to disappear me. Make me a pretty little inconspicuous thing—a non-threatening thing. One who took up no space, one who didn’t speak. I thought this was normal.
Well, that was until I met my Grandmother and Aunts.
I saw fairly tall, well-built, but most importantly voluptuous women. Women with breasts, bellies, thighs and butts—women who looked like me. These women were colorful, loud, and confident. Their auras were incredible—they were a commanding, yet loving presence. A perfect example of the fierce feminine. I only wish I had come to this realization then; it would’ve saved me decades of grief.
It wasn’t until I had my own children that I noticed my body start to change—parts that were soft before, only got softer. And even though this body literally sustained life, my children’s and my own, I still fought it to death.
I would binge, then starve, then cry out of complete despair.
I saw myself as a failure, all because I couldn’t maintain some unattainable ideal that society was ramming down my throat.
It was a battle that lasted for so many years—it was a part of me and my experience.
When I first saw the Willendorf, I was stunned. I had seen images of Earth Mother, and Gaia, with the large breast and bellies, but this image was different.
It was almost a sense of shock and relief at the same time.
Who created Her this way? Is She pregnant? Is She a representation of all that is—the Heavens and the Earth, all those who dwell here? Wouldn’t it make sense that She be voluptuous— that She is soft?
She goes against all societal “norms” and expectations of how a woman “should” look. Perhaps because this was a matriarchal time, and women were honored and respected—their bodies, holy and life-giving.
The era of patriarchy sought to silence us, thin us. Disappear us.
I had to sit with myself and with Her for a long time. I had to allow this message to sink into my very soul.
The Goddess has taught me innumerable lessons—her many aspects and faces contain immense wisdom. But it was the Willendorf Goddess who held one of the most powerful lessons.
She taught me that self-acceptance was possible. Her message is evident even in her presence, like the presence of my Grandmother and Aunts. The fierce feminine that isn’t afraid to take up space.
Let us listen to Her message, gaze upon Her incredible image, and remind ourselves to take up the space that we deserve.
Book information is found in www.thegirlgod.com.
The triple goddess incarnate in these three powerful, beneficent editors/publishers/writers. 💕💕💕