Feminine Rage & Screaming into the Mouth of Another Woman

Photo credit Amanda Hillsdale

We all Felt the Feminine Rage as primal energy, it pulled from a feral place without a language. A feeling and an understanding of what was needed.

Earlier this month, my Oldest Daughter and I attended the Florence and the Machine concert at the Climate Pledge Arena.

It started off sideways and wrong. The woman who sat down in front of us was just pissed off at the world and looking for a fight. Honestly, I’ve been there, and I get it. The rage we feel as women for what is currently going on in the world, reproductive rights and decisions about women's bodies being made by men, who, let's be honest, they dont know what is best for our bodies. The recent news articles about a rape academy teaching techniques for assaulting women who don’t want them. The list is long, and we could write an entire series of blog posts about those issues, too, and maybe we will at some point.

The lights clicked off, and the room went dark. The crowd went into a wild fucking frenzy. You felt it in the solar plexus and the chest as the bars of everybody's screams started to play while Florence rose out of the stage floor. I know Florence was singing, but I never heard her voice as a single woman's rage. All at once, the entire crowd became a single primal scream of rage as we sang with every last breath of air in our lungs.

It was the magic we all came here for, the bodies of women swaying, jumping, maxi skirts swirling in a wild frenzy.

Every beautiful shape serves wild grey hairs every single version of what it means to attend a Florence concert, moving, screaming, and breathing as one massive voice of feminine rage, wild women of all ages all together as one.

The woman in front of me threw her upper body back over the chair, arms outstretched to me, screaming, and I felt it. I reached forward without stretched arms and screamed back into her mouth. It was about holding space for the pain, allowing it to process and leave, then alchemizing what was left for a purpose.

When the song was over, you felt the exhale and the release of every single woman in the crowd. The woman in front of me was sobbing, her makeup was everywhere, but her face and I felt it, oh god, I understood it. She shared her story, and it's not my place to share it with the world. I will say this. The world will heal in spaces where women gather, rage, scream, grieve, process, and find healing.

She wasn’t the only one. Several days later, all over my social media, I saw conversations about women going to her concert to have spells put on them to heal their pain. Women stuck at crossroads in life, looking for spaces to belong, to heal, to find the fucking magic in life again, and honestly, I couldn't agree more with them.

We need feminine energy and magic.

Dark and Divine feminine energy is not a male-gaze-centered conversation either. So many spaces online and in-person talk about feminine energy being dark, mysterious, and hyper-sexualized fantasies of red lipstick and black cat energy to seduce men. Fuck That!

I mean, sure, we love men, and I am married to an exceptionally great one. But feminine energy is not just about being soft for men. It's filled with magic from our wombs, passed down from our mothers and grandmothers.

This is where it changes, ladies

So, if this sounds like your kinda space. I welcome you to join me in our free group, the Wild Womb, where we have community and connection (link below), or in our paid group, The Coven, with all of the delicious content made for women like us. Both spaces have a little something for everyone.

Little side note *(I know men were in attendance for this concert too, and we love them, but this blog post is not about them with one is for the ladies.)

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