Somewhere in America, maybe even in your town, there is Earth that I consider even-more-sacred-than-normal-sacred-ground. It is where women go to make sacred and important decisions about their own lives. It is sacred ground where women go to sacrifice flesh and potentiality to their own, sacred determinations about how they will lives the lives that the Goddess has given them. Where they go to sacrifice the product of sex, love, and the Great Rite when even life's longing after itself has gone awry. To me, that is Sacred.
It is a sacred place where the women should be cared for, nurtured, renewed, blessed for their bravery, given a chance to start over again.
And, yet, yet, yet, the First Amendment to our Constitution allows a group of wild-eyed religious fanatics, fanatics bent upon the destruction and domination of women, to show up and perpetrate their fanatically evil notions about women. To show up, scream at the women, and wave around signs showing bloody fetuses.
Yes, I'm talking about how the First Amendment allows whack-job xians to demonstrate outside abortion clinics, making the women who come there to make sacrifices feel horrible.
And, you know, if the First Amendment allows that, I guess the xians can get over a community center blocks from where the World Trade Towers (a cathedral to modern greed) went down.
Or, we can start banning any religious expression that "upsets" someone else, in which case, I can get upset all over the goddamn place. Seriously. I hope you don't worship at St. Bridget's. Or want to build a Catholic church near an elementary school, full of sacred children who could be abused by the Catholic priests. I hope that you don't want to build an evangelical church within miles of an abused women's shelter or a library where people go to enjoy the free expression of ideas.
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 . . . ."