she's a moonchild ☾

Torah ark curtain

Bukhara, Uzbekistan, early 20th century

One day I hope to live in a cottage on the outskirts of a small country town. I will grow my own vegetables, herbs and fruit. I will bake pies and cakes to sell at the market. I will have chickens clucking about the garden and bees buzzing around the lavender and rosemary hedges. My cottage will have a wrap-around veranda with a small wicker couch and coffee table so I can sit and have a cup of tea in the afternoons while I read a good book.

My neighbours will pop by for a cup of tea and a chat or a pinch of spell-work. Their children know me as the witch at the end of the lane. Some are afraid and some are bold and brash enough to walk up to my front door and demand to see some witchcraft. I happily invite them inside and teach them some little magic, like how to whistle up a breeze or bake wishes into pies.

I will paint, embroider and make pottery from my veranda and spell work will be woven into all. A baby is born in the village? I will sew it a quilt with protection spell sewn into every patch with my dog beside me.

Crows come to visit and tell their tales while I eagerly listen. And one day I will be too old to take care of my little cottage so I will leave it to a niece, nephew or one of the village children who showed a spark of magic.

I will never be rich but I will be content, and that’s what matters.

Also, when we move too much during an argument, or lean forward, it’s scary, and I never knew. I was even a little insulted at first, because surely she didn’t think I would hurt her. But see, that doesn’t matter. It wasn’t a sign that she mistrusted me specifically; it’s a conditioned response. (Although if you keep doing it once you realize it scares her, she SHOULDN’T trust you.)

Not every woman has been physically harmed by a man she trusted, but every woman KNOWS a woman who has.

I used to be horrible about this, because I didn’t realize how intimidating it was. I didn’t understand why the woman I was with clammed up or tried to tell me what she thought I wanted to hear, and I only got angrier, and acted even more like an asshole. It was wrong. It was abusive. It didn’t matter if I INTENDED it that way; it was still emotionally abusive. And it was inexcusable.

I get that when passions are high, and when you’re frustrated, it’s a natural tendency to let your voice get louder, to shout and gesture and lean forward. But you can train yourself to do better. You can train yourself to keep more of an even tone, to refrain from large and fast gestures, to not lean into her personal space. I did. I’m not perfect at it yet, but goddamn it, I WILL be.

History is littered with the bodies of women who believed a man “would never.” This includes women killed by men who honestly, deeply, truly believed they “would never”… right up until she said that one thing or moved in just that way and he just got so mad, just that once, and pushed her or punched her or slashed her or shot her… just once, y’know, to shut her up, or because she was flinching and didn’t she know that HE’S NOT LIKE THAT and I’LL TEACH HER TO BE AFRAID OF ME…

We are trained, from infancy, that Men With Loud Voices are a source of pain from which we cannot escape, and attempts to escape may result in more pain. And as soon as we’re old enough to comprehend a world broader than our immediate circle, a world that extends into the past and will run into the future, we realize that there is no way, no way at all, to tell which men “would never” and which men “would never… except if.”

We live or die on that “if.” And any man who doesn’t like facing that hyper-vigilance can work on fixing OTHER MEN, not women’s fear.

The reaction shouldn’t be “not all men are like that;” it should be “no woman should have to live in fear.”

I really 100% thought I was just anxious and fragile and it was all in my own head. Come to find our all y’all are having this same experience. Jesus.

I have some more work to do to be a better man. I will start now.