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The Wand 1996-05
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The Wand 1996-05 - Page 1. May 1996. Special Collections, University of Houston Libraries. University of Houston Digital Library. Web. September 2, 2014. http://digital.lib.uh.edu/collection/feminist/item/6170/show/6162.

Disclaimer: This is a general citation for reference purposes. Please consult the most recent edition of your style manual for the proper formatting of the type of source you are citing. If the date given in the citation does not match the date on the digital item, use the more accurate date below the digital item.

(May 1996). The Wand 1996-05 - Page 1. Houston and Texas Feminist and Lesbian Newsletters. Special Collections, University of Houston Libraries. Retrieved from http://digital.lib.uh.edu/collection/feminist/item/6170/show/6162

Disclaimer: This is a general citation for reference purposes. Please consult the most recent edition of your style manual for the proper formatting of the type of source you are citing. If the date given in the citation does not match the date on the digital item, use the more accurate date below the digital item.

The Wand 1996-05 - Page 1, May 1996, Houston and Texas Feminist and Lesbian Newsletters, Special Collections, University of Houston Libraries, accessed September 2, 2014, http://digital.lib.uh.edu/collection/feminist/item/6170/show/6162.

Disclaimer: This is a general citation for reference purposes. Please consult the most recent edition of your style manual for the proper formatting of the type of source you are citing. If the date given in the citation does not match the date on the digital item, use the more accurate date below the digital item.

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Title The Wand 1996-05
Publisher Womynspace
Date May 1996
Description Vol. 13 No. 5. On some pages, comic strips have been digitally obscured to protect owner's copyright.
Subject.Topical (LCSH)
  • Women--Texas--Houston--Periodicals
  • Feminists--Texas--Houston--Periodicals
  • Lesbians--Texas--Houston--Periodicals
Genre (AAT)
  • periodicals
Language English
Physical Description 8 page periodical
Format (IMT)
  • image/jpeg
Original Item Location http://library.uh.edu/record=b3634790~S11
Digital Collection Houston and Texas Feminist and Lesbian Newsletters
Digital Collection URL http://digital.lib.uh.edu/collection/feminist
Repository Special Collections, University of Houston Libraries
Repository URL http://info.lib.uh.edu/about/campus-libraries-collections/special-collections
Use and Reproduction Educational use only, no other permissions given. Copyright to this resource is held by the content creator, author, artist or other entity, and is provided here for educational purposes only. It may not be reproduced or distributed in any format without written permission of the copyright owner. For more information please see the UH Digital Library Fair Use policy on the “About” page of this website.
Item Description
Title Page 1
Subject.Topical (LCSH)
  • Women--Texas--Houston--Periodicals
  • Feminists--Texas--Houston--Periodicals
  • Lesbians--Texas--Houston--Periodicals
Repository Special Collections, University of Houston Libraries
Use and Reproduction Educational use only, no other permissions given. Copyright to this resource is held by the content creator, author, artist or other entity, and is provided here for educational purposes only. It may not be reproduced or distributed in any format without written permission of the copyright owner. For more information please see the UH Digital Library Fair Use policy on the “About” page of this website.
File name femin_201109_510a.jpg
Transcript y rTtTTTf-il'f TIFflTT-IfTV m¥I-T-!■____'If _________ Li I if May 1996 THE WAND Vol. 13, No. 5 Womynspace Activities / Networking Directory Inside: Book Review / Know My Own Heart: The Diaries of Anne Lister Dyke Night at Carr's. .Alaska The Passing of the Mother by Hitaji Aziz I write this in remembrance of my mother, Jeanette Liddell and my grandmother, Bessie Forte. When grandmother died last January, I was challenged to look at grief as a journey not to be avoided. I realized that I had never properly grieved my mother's death along with other losses in my life. I had to decide to take time to sit with her death. I wanted to understand the culture of death. The time that I am taking has helped me to notice the gift. Life will ask me many times to die before my body passes; how I embrace this process will be the key to what kind of life I want. I write in honor of the Mother Spirit. I write in honor of my grief. I have been in an emotional / spiritual retreat. I had to take another inventory of my life, let go of relationships that I didn't need and hold on the relationships that I would be willing to invest in. I had to take stock of how well I was taking care of self. I was the biggest part of my own blockage. When grandmother died I could see that death was multidimensional. In our USA culture, death is allowed to be seen in very narrow ways. People shy away from death, grief and the grieving person. My grandmother's death brought me face to face with the wounded mother that I see in most people. Because I am a woman, incest survivor, mother and recovering addict, I am moved to look closer at my own woundedness and my path of healing. This path slowly leads me back to the womb of my mother and everything since that time. I am finally realizing the sacredness of being a mother, having had a mother. For the first time in my life, I am actually aware of how important it is to be a mother. It is really a powerful duty to be a vessel for another person for nine months and then assist them to step out into their own life. My children were never mine to own, just to guide in sacred space and love unconditionally. It doesn't matter if the mother was a negative or positive force; her very existence was powerful We are mothers with or without children. We will always be faced with the birthing of some part of us or the witnessing of some else's life experience. We are either asked by the universe to be the midwife or the mother in labor. It is how well we accept this task that will affect the quality of our lives and the life of our planet. Anytime we run away from this, we find ourselves not in balance feeling uneasy. We end up walking around spiritually and emotionally limping, hanging with other people who keep us limping. We try to find out what is wrong by rehearsing the same tribulation over and over because we don't get it. Blindly, we feel confused, not realizing that we will always be guided back to the source of our pain until we embrace, heal and move on. Most of us are afraid of our own light because we have become so used to living in the non light of fear. We pretend to be progressive and on the front line, but when it comes to the intimacy of death and life, we run back to denial. Some of our most creative people commit suicide, cheat, stay high and stay miserable because of fear. We actually run from the possibility of how it could be without the struggle. We complain about our lives, but become unwilling to suffer the short term uneasiness of recovery for the long term peace of wellness. We end up like a pregnant woman, unwilling to embrace the birth of ourselves. We keep walking a road that keeps ending. My grandmother's death not only opened the half closed wound I had with my mother, but the pus filled wound I have with other women. I had to get real honest so that I could figure out the insanity. I knew that if I was to have healthy relationships with other women, I had to really notice the lies I told myself about my mother, my grandmother, me as a mother and me as a women. Until we heal the mother inside, we will never have healthy relationships with other women. These lies aren't right on top; they are buried deep inside my inner most being. I have to seek emotional truth. I have spent years being angry and scared. My mother was very wounded and scared. She handed what she got from her mother to me. Even though my mother is dead it feels like she rides my back every day. My back has felt like a bridge that someone refuses to cross. I carry all of the abuse, neglect and oppression of all the women in my family, the stuff they never got a chance to heal. I was pregnant when I was born. The intergenerational distortion will kick my butt until I walk through it. I have to learn how not to hand it to my children. I have to face the hurt that has already been passed on. I have to support them in their own healing by first telling myself the truth, cleaning my messes up and staying honest. This will be a tough job; my pain keeps me willing. I also received gifts from the women in my family that I get to keep. I know that for years I have been afraid of the real me, the empowered woman, the one with no limits, the one that is creative and bold. That part of me that knew I could stand alone, step out on faith, sing my own song with no one else's band. Today I look at pain and aloneness differently, more like friends than an enemy. I never got a chance to see the women of my family really live through their greatness without the struggle. My mother and grandmother did the best that they could with the resources that they had. They did have the courage to keep trying. They told the truth about oppression. They were my first political teachers. The reality was that I needed more and because of that, I sit with a wounded mother inside of me. I also have attracted other wounded women and men as confused as I have been. I don't mind being close to wounded people as long as they are processing some form of recovery, accept their wounds and will do something about it. Healing the mother means that we must have the courage to see our fear, where we have no integrity, when we lie and leave other women in the emotional lurch. We assist each other in the miscarriage of our own selves. We walk around half born, overwhelmed, isolated. We have to be accountable about what we didnt do right. We have to be bold enough to see how we hurt and destroy one another because of our internalized sexism, racism and oppression. We have to notice how we breastfeed on others and become unwilling to give anything back. We settle for less. We create TV relationships stacked with drama. We start friendships then run from them when we are challenged with the hard stuff. It is only when we stay through the hard part that we receive the gift of growth. This is the foundation of a committed friendship. We fail to see relationships as reflections of what we really need to heal on. People not only bring us into the light, but will honor us with our shadow side as well. We dance with others who won't bare their own load. Some of us know that there is no liberation for women without recovery, sanity and spiritual growth. As long as we rationalize mistreatment, dishonor, drugs, sex addiction, violence, gossip, slandering and relationships that don't offer peace and respect, we won't make it. As long as we approach each other from a fear based and needy position, we will never give ourselves a chance. We have to be willing to give what we really need. Somehow we have to get ready to reach into our own personal Higher Power and tell the truth. The truth is that we need a healing and it won't all be done by how well your poetry is written, your politics, how good you are as a wife/lover, your new hairdo, your Jamaican weed or the money you make on your new corporate job. It will be a combination of your emotional, physical and spiritual integrity that will bring us into a new era of human evolution. The healing will reflect how close you come to you. This is a scary path because it calls for the old you to die so the new you can live. It is here that we get to experience the stages of death only to be reborn into the healed mother. The old and the new woman can never live in the same house. One will always dominate the other. Death is about embracing the shadow side of our lives, pushing past the comfort zone. This kind of death is an inside job, the path of a spiritual warrior. Continued next page The Last of the Last: Great Black Woman For Grandma Bessie (1907-1996) SHE IS THE LAST OF THE LAST A GREY HAIRED WISE WOMAN WHO CHOOSE NOT TO SPEAK ' WHILE WATTING FOR DEATH SHE WALKED THE STREETS OF PITTSBURGH WITH RAGE A COPPER PENNY TIED AROUND HER KNEE A KNIFE IN HER BRA LOOKING FOR THE NUMBER MAN SHE IS THE LAST OF THE LAST SHE CAME FROM WOMEN WHO WOULD LISTEN TO MAHALIA SINGING IN THE UPPER ROOM WHILE THEY SHOOK THEIR HEADS IN SILENCE RIGHT HAND POINTING TOWARD THE SKY SHE CAME FROM A LONG DUSTY ROAD OUT OF ALABAMA TRAILS BANJO BLUES COLLARD GREENS,YAMS GRITS, HOME MADE SYRUP AND FLAT BREAD SWOLLEN WITH DANGEROUS TIMES ONE OF THOSE AME ZION METHODIST WOMEN SHE WAS THE LAST OF THE LAST SFIE WAS ALWAYS WARNING US ABOUT SOMETHING SHE WARNED US ABOUT AMERICA ABOUT RELATIONSHIPS ABOUT BIRDS FLOCKING WITH THE SAME FEATHER SHE WARNED US ABOUT WARNINGS YOU BETTER MAKE SURE YOUR DRAWLS ARE CLEAN CAUSE YOU NEVER KNOW WHEN YOU WILL BE ON YOUR BACK NEVER WEAR OUT YOUR WELCOME DONT TALK LOUD WHEN THERE IS A STORM DONT EAT THE FOOD FROM SOMEONE YOU DON'T TRUST GOD IS WATCHING YOU HE MIGHT NOT BE THERE WHEN YOU WANT HIM BUT HE WILL BE RIGHT ON TIME KEEP YOUR LEGS CLOSE BURN OR FLUSH CUT HAIR YOUR DREAMS ARE IMPORTANT THROW SALT SPIT ON THE BROOM SOMETIMES THE DOCTOR MIGHT NOT COME BUT THE DEAD WILL ALWAYS BE NEAR WATCH YOUR BACK WATCH YOUR BACK WATCH YOUR BACK SHE WAS BORN OUT OF FOR COLORED ONLY SIGNS SHE SANG GOSPEL WHEN SHE WAS HAPPY OR BLUE SHE CAME UP ON THE ROUGH SIDE OF A MOUNTAIN SHE DID HER BEST TO MAKE IT IN SHE TOLD ME ABOUT A RACE THAT WOULD SOON BE OVER Continued inside back cover