#heathen womyn

[ilsebet]

TWILIT DAUGHTER OF BLUE-GLINTING SNOWS SLICING DOWN POWDERED SLOPES, FAITHFUL WOLF-PACK IN HOWLING TOW, UNLEASHING HAIL OF ARROW ON MERCILESS ARROW FROM THY DREAD-SONG BOW SUNNA'S LAST KISS IN GLOAMING FAREWELL LIMNS FAST-FALLING FOES. SKAÐI, EAGLE-EYED HUNTRESS OF WHITE-CAPPED PEAKS, PEERLESS IN STRENGTH, SHE WHO DELIGHTS IN BLIZZARDS BLEAK, THE VERY MOUNTAINS QUAKE TO ONLY HEAR THEE SPEAK. ALL ASGARD FEARS THAT WHICH THY WRATH WREAKS.

[sealwomyn]

Honoring the Dísir

“The dísir are family spirits, and as such, should be worshipped in the home.  In the kitchen or beside the hearth are especially appropriate places to honor them.  A shelf with family pictures, or a shrine with an image of the matronae, makes a good focus.  One can raise a horn to grandmothers and other honored female relations or notable women of the past, or build a ritual around the preparation of some traditional foods such as streusl.  A warning -- alive or dead, Germanic housewives are traditionally very good housekeepers, and you should give your kitchen a good scrubbing before calling them there.

In A Book of Troth, Thorsson offers a “Blessing of the Dises” in which several of the women’s personal names with the “dis” element are used in a call to the dísir (p. 168).  Here we offer a short list from which folk can put together such a call.  Those slightly familiar with Old Norse can also easily generate their own idis-names/descriptions; such created forms have been marked with an asterisk (*) here.

* Árdís -- harvest-idis

Ásdís -- Ase-idis

* Barnadís -- children’s idis

* Eplidís -- apple-idis

Freydís -- [this can mean either Freyja’s idis or Freyr’s idis]

Halldís -- hall-idis

Herdís -- army-idis

Hjálmsdís -- helm-idis

Hjördís -- sword-idis

Jódís -- horse-idis (used as a by-name for Hel)

* Móðirdís -- mother-idis

Óðindís -- Óðinn’s idis [only found twice]

Saldís -- dwelling/hall-idis

* Sigrdís -- victory-idis

Spádís -- prophecy-idis [descriptive rather than personal name]

Úlfdís -- wolf-idis

Valdís -- slain-idis

Vanadís -- Vanir’s idis (used as a by-name for Freyja)

Vigdís -- battle-idis

Þórdís -- Þórr’s idis

*  Ættardís -- clan’s idis”

Source: Our Troth, Second Edition, Volume I: History and Lore, by the members of the Troth

[embercraftcreations]

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[nefepants]

Thats not even to mention that a lot of the terf cult was based around white feminists and them hating trans women of color. Also even cis women of color are affected because all the """manly""" physical characteristics that they stereotype trans women as having are also very present on cis women of color (facial hair, bigger bodies, deeper voice). Like terfs base their "riiel womyn" looks completly around white woman beauty standards and it shows.

Right???? The traits they loathe in trans women- facial hair, significant height, angular facial features, lack of “feminine” secondary sex characteristics like breasts and wide hips- are so common in cis women it’s just funny. (Hey, even cis men have fucking titties and hips and look feminine as hell. That’s just how humans are, we’re diverse as fuck and defy categorization despite what people say.)

It’s definitely a loathing of anything that isn’t adherently white and following those cultural values of the gender binary and everything that entails. I mean, our culture is obsessed with body hair removal and equating that to either masculinity or femininity PRECISELY because of white values.

The second Europeans got the idea to colonize, they knew that they had to beat our wretched heathen ways out of us. And that had a lot to do with the fact that indigenous peoples often don’t give anywhere near as much of a fuck about the gender binary as colonizers do.

[ithinkthatyoushould]

Where we drove to the grave the peace weened from the tit - , and bulldogs with slapping gums , raved towards errant blacklight.                       Where mavens of inborn right                                  (of Cyprian bent whom devil wend,                                   with clamoring roth of the heathen lapsed)                       wisped facetious colloquialism                       make lie of making truth.                       , of making words of making                       , to whet the worded weevil, who sang : envy of forlorn youth                       Beaming from the lighthouse                       roving from the promissory Clit ;                       which promised,                       proverbially                                                                 to lay with satisfaction                                                                 no babe, to Wit                                                                  no burden, no ambition ere Sit                                                                 for sanguine re-purposing                                                                 of her mendicant Grit                       Revealing the parochial hidden                       Of a virgin birth,                       to a guilty virgin                       She washed her baroquen linen                                           for her skum stank of Basine ambition                                           and the slinking scoure -                                                        Their yammer and seem                                                                  Borgia helmed Alexander -

                                                       oft-oaf like hatred                                                                    for the Plague                                                                    of a Womyn Who Speaks in rapturous punishment,                     they decided - Clod and harrier, with teeth sank into her Aerola,                          , and artery                         , gangling and safe                         , umbilicus, rosebud                         , haphazard exodus                         , from a lady’s woolen gut                        A soul born from the thrusting                        of Animal Rut                       bayleaf and clover                       grasped bine lily weird fist                       fingers asped                       Coiled by inborn impetus  Mum,                “mum”                            is the word                            quiet in the fog now ;                            the white men wearing black pajamas                            wearing calcified teeth -                                                                sing weirdly now                                                                higher now                            tis a mother who spat upon her                            Newborn babe                            for it is the Placental riving                            which hearkens the weebing wallow                                                       of the New                                                      that gives new face to Death                                                                                  we go back to Whence we came                            a babe, as frost upon the heated glass                            Whispers closer to the void                              than a woman of the years -                                                           that is why she smothered Him                                  laying in the crib,                                  for she could not stand the                                   horrible bleating                                  of the assailing Vacant Truth                                  of his gabbling, mindless Jib  thy womb cuts closer to the core and Beats softer the Drum,                  which keens the voice of Death                  than the lover’s aching palm                  feeling the viper glanted sop                                   Of your bated, carnal Breath