Tomorrow morning at 6:30, I'm going to get in line at the little community center two blocks from my house and I'm going to to vote for a woman for president. I'm a few weeks shy of 52. Tomorrow will be the first time that I've gotten to do that. My mother never got to do that. When my grandmothers were born, women couldn't vote at all. Tomorrow, I'm voting for a woman. I don't expect to do it dry-eyed, but wild horses won't stop me from doing it.
I'm a woman, a Witch, a mother, a grandmother, an eco-feminist, a gardener, a reader, a writer, and a priestess of the Great Mother Earth. Hecate appears in the
Homeric Ode to Demeter, which tells of Hades who caught Persophone
"up reluctant on his golden car and bare her away lamenting. . . . But no one, either of the deathless gods or of mortal men, heard her voice, nor yet the olive-trees bearing rich fruit: only tenderhearted Hecate, bright-coiffed, the daughter of Persaeus, heard the girl from her cave . . . ."