Dear Goddess Movement, I Want to Knock down My Walls.
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Dear Goddess Movement,
I am bored with your shiny white goddesses with bodies the width of a rope. Attractive ones with flowing hair and hands folded in prayer across the heart to let us know they are spiritual and good and powerful. They go without the hunger that keeps the body awake. Eyes blank from letting go of their humanity to fit into a more enlightened and equally limiting box.
They tell me what to eat, what to think, whom to hate, a new exhausting fad in the name of consciousness.
Adorned with prayer beads and witchy mantras, I feel empty in my body when I watch the spectacle.
They insist I go on a journey to the Holy Land, as if it’s outside of me and not within. That having the right guru, outfit, and spiritual trip will wake me up. Distracting me from facing who I am when I no longer have anything distracting me.
They blame difficult and painful situations on Mercury retrograde, robbing me of my own responsibility and agency. Forgetting that I am the creator of my life, not the victim of it.
These goddesses lead us down the rabbit hole of some symbol, some ritual, some other thing we should do to let us know who we are. Distracting us further from the wound that just won’t go away until we do the work of owning it and moving beyond it. Teaching that it is good enough to have a mantra and cool crystal prayer beads to cover it.
There is a lack of looking and working on self. It is always someone else who is the wrongdoer as the goddesses collectively shake their fists at them in the name of divine sisterhood. The ones they decide to publicly hate together create a sisterhood bonded by fear and loathing. Everyone outside of the group is a predator, and no one is safe from their attack.
Everyone is a diva, yet everyone is a target at the drop of a hat. No one lives up to the perfection that is held up high, and sisters frequently remind each other of this under forced smiles and thinly veiled criticism.
Goddess Movement, you have taught me to go inward and solve it on my own, that working with a powerful one who confronts my inner truth and demands I step out into it is not needed. The one who calls me out on who I truly am.
You say that sitting alone in my room with tarot cards is all I need to create a future built on joy and not pain. That my true sisters are the ones who go along with my pain, always validating it, and never calling me out beyond it.
You tell me to trust the Universe, meaning sit around on my ass. Or create a new vision board, for all I need is a crystal in my bra and I’m good.
You want me to be shaking my fist at the man or what I deem to be some level of power inequality, and that means I am making a difference. But I can only be part of a movement that lets all of us come along. True power does not alienate or cut, but brings up and creates.
Goddess, I will no longer sacrifice myself to be accepted by you, for I have to hide behind a shiny veil of righteousness. I have to be calling someone out with a fury under the guise of perfection.
I want the responsibility of my life. I do not want to hand it over to a horoscope, a psychic. I want to find it within because I am strong enough to hold it and create it. I want to fuck life and I want to get fucked. I want to look at myself first and identify what I can do to clean up the mess that has become of society, instead of finding more reasons to hate it.
I want to be messy, and yearn for and feel what it is to be in a relationship that yearns right back. No longer alienating men, but inviting them in. I want to eat until my body feels full, and I want to lick the whipped cream — that may or may not be vegan — off my fingers. I want to suck the marrow out of life and feel it suck right back, and know that there are worse things than that.
I want to feel the rain on my skin and not package it into a pretty spiritual picture. I want to be challenged and called out on my own darkness, not waste any moment of my precious time here shaking my fist and hating the ones who hurt me. I want to knock down my walls one by one until I cannot see the wrong other, until I can only see myself staring right back at me.
Here’s to looking at the one within and letting her out, no matter how messy she gets.
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Maria Palumbo is a transformation coach. A lover of desire, she reveals the flame within all, and holds space for thriving and creating from a place of pleasure. She teaches freedom from shame and the embodiment of worthiness. You could email her to receive info on her coaching and classes, and follow her work at her website or Facebook.
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