The Stranger Gets a Press Release for a Gathering in a Red Tent Honoring Women and Their Menstrual Cycles and Sends Lindy West and Her Womb to Investigate
Here's the Press Release and Here's What Happened
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1. On the ferry on the way to Vashon Island, there was a woman with long, frizzy hair and high-waisted jeans. She was wearing a T-shirt with a picture of cats playing jazz instruments, and above the picture it said "JAZZ CATS." There are a lot of different ways to be a woman.
2. One of my college roommates was a hippie but also a secret heiress. Like, the kind of heiress with neighborhoods named after her. Wealthy neighborhoods. The kind of heiress who has an island. She was great. She never wore shoes and she never went shopping and she just wanted to sing bluegrass songs all the time and brush her hair and translate ancient Greek texts, but sometimes we'd come home and she'd say, "I broke a plate, so I decided to buy all new dishes and flatware for the kitchen." And we'd say, "Oh. Okay." I didn't know she was a secret heiress until we'd lived together in our dilapidated house for at least a year. After I found out, it never came up again because it didn't matter. She loved getting her period because she said she liked to feel her body working. Once she told us that her dream was to go off by herself and squat for a week and "bleed into the forest"—that dream came from this book. She's a doctor now.
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3. My sister is into this sort of thing. She loves ritual. She's forever collecting shells for her Venus altar, or tying a piece of ribbon to a twig in a secret grove, or collecting magic waters in very small vials to make potions. Being around my sister feels magical. When we traveled through Europe together (following the path of Mary Magdalene, natch), I'm pretty sure we hit every stone circle and magic well in existence. Once, in Cornwall, we looked down into an aquamarine cove—the waters in Cornwall look impossibly tropical—and she said, "Do you see the mermaids? They're sitting on that rock." I said no, and she looked at me like I was stupid. And maybe I was. Clearly, believing in mermaids is way more fun than not believing in them. (Side note: Do mermaids have periods?) When I was driving to the Vashon Red Temple, I texted my sister for advice. "I'm on my way to a new moon celebration at a menses temple," I said. "Liar," she said. "It's true! Any tips?" "Stay open to a new flow and wave goodbye to the blood of old that nurtured you well." I knew she'd know what to do. I love my sister.
4. This is the kind of thing that my mom would call "a crock of shit." To this day, she refuses to tell me what time I was born because she doesn't want my sister to do my astrological chart. My mom is a clinical lady. I love my mom.
5. I almost didn't go in. It was too intimate and foreign, and I am clinical like my mom. But I did, I walked in and joined the circle of women seated on pillows beneath the homemade canopy of red scarves. The women were talking about chocolate, which was such an adorable cliché that I fell in love with them instantly. "There is definitely a goddess of chocolate." "I read somewhere that the molecular makeup of chocolate is so unique that it was probably brought here from another planet." One woman passed a Hershey's bar around the circle. "This chocolate is even better now that it's passed through the hands of so many goddesses," said the woman next to me, appreciatively.
6. Check.
7. There was chanting.
8. See 7.
9. Isla had a large amount of curly hair and a bracing presence. She made fun of how long her own press release was. She told us that she has recently reclaimed her ancestral name, Tula-Celestún. She said that right now there is an astrological configuration—the Cardinal Cross—that has not occurred since Jesus was alive, and that she and the other local angel healers are very busy "holding that energy." She explained that the media tells us that things are terrible and violent, but that this is actually one of the most peaceful times in history. We should not focus on the negative. Later, I asked my sister what an "angel healer" is, and she said, "Well, you know, angels are just the same thing as aliens. They're probably the ones who brought the chocolate." I asked about the Cardinal Cross, and she told me, "If you're going to have a baby, have it like tomorrow. It'll be a superbaby. Dude, remind me to send you a picture of the cosmos right now. It's fucking out of control."
10. I don't know if the tent is big enough.
11. I was wearing my reddest dress. My "menses smock," I silently called it.
12. "You look different today," said one woman to another. "Oh, I know," she replied. "It's because I did the 24-strand DNA activation yesterday. I feel like a completely new person." I asked what that meant. She explained that in addition to our two physical DNA strands, we have 22 spiritual DNA strands, which can be "activated" by a specially trained lady with a crystal wand. The process took 10 hours. "There's also a golden gate that you can walk through," she said, "but that's more for larger groups." Then another woman explained that DNA activation has something to do with the Mayan calendar. I still didn't understand. My sister didn't know anything about DNA activation, but she did tell me a story about the time she went to see a shaman and the shaman had a spirit jaguar eat a ghost off my sister's back.
13. I can't talk about what we talked about in the talking circle. But a lot of it was about mothers. We went around the circle and stated our "intentions" for the coming moon cycle. Most of the women had intentions that I didn't understand, that involved "manifesting" and "balance" and "rhythm." One woman said that her intention was to "end rape." I said I intended to organize my apartment, and I felt mundane. The women totally approved. Total approval is the point of menses tent. I love menses tent.
14. This is one of the greatest sentences ever crafted in English.
15. It's true that I don't believe in most of this stuff—and I suspect that believing is the secret ingredient that makes this stuff work. But it does work for the gracious ladies on the pillows under the red tent, and it was surprisingly nurturing to sit cross-legged in their world for a few hours. And even though I would never phrase it like this, I agree that women don't always get a chance to "fill our own vessels." My dad worked all day. My mom worked all day, then came home and made dinner. Women do a lot. Women are neat.
16. I left before the ritual foot-washing. Next time, menses tent. Maybe. 
Glad you enjoyed menses tent, though. You should feel empowered from time to time, even if it requires you to suspend judgment and disbelief (which you did well). And no, that's not a throw-away comment because I bashed you in the previous paragraph. I like what you wrote, just not the bit setting up a tired dichotomy between Women and Men.
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Love and Blessings,
India
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: )
PS - this totally makes up for the mean-spirited, booby-shrinking Hooters-bashing article you wrote last year. You are forgiven. Go forth and sin no more.
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Really?
"My dad worked all day. My mom worked all day, then came home and made dinner."
Yep, no implication there. Sorry I brought it up.
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I am 66 and we didn't have any red tents but I can imagine them due to your spot on article.
Will there be more of this? Are there any future Red Tent gatherings planned, preferably further north?
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"And even though I would never phrase it like this, I agree that women don't always get a chance to "fill our own vessels." My dad worked all day. My mom worked all day, then came home and made dinner. Women do a lot. Women are neat."
So you're saying that you read that, and all you see is the author relaying a dry, factual story, that has no broader implication? The dry, factual phrases "My Dad worked all day. My worked all day, then came home and made dinner." is just this isolated piece of text, not intended to highlight any kind of distinction, and with no bearing on the very next sentence "Women do a lot?" Please.
And no, I don't for a second believe that gender equality magically appeared sometime in 198x. There are still huge gaps, and those gaps must be closed. But those gaps are uneven. Women in some communities in this country might as well still be living in 1947 (some in 1447), while others enjoy equality, support, mutuality, and respect from their male counterparts, particularly their partners. To the point where generalizing across the whole spectrum of maleness is the lazy way out.
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But there isn't a woman alive right now who hasn't had some sort of relationship with a man who "doesn't see dirt," who doesn't understand that the food doesn't just magically materialize in the fridge, who leaves a trail of detritus behind him wherever he goes in your house. He might be her father, her partner, her roommate's boyfriend, or her brother. We have all - every last one of us - cleaned up after them. And almost all of them think they're somehow more evolved than "those guys," and deeply offended by the implication that they make women responsible for the clean-up by their own willful incompetence.
Yeah, nullbull, you're different, and good on you. But don't interject yourself into our daily experience and our daily frustration. No vagina? Then you don't get it. Period.
Wow, you just plain hate men don't you? And you're also full of shit. Studies show that men do more than their fair share of work when paid and unpaid labor is added up. But apparently your own sense of female entitlement lets you believe that men still aren't doing enough.
And, for your information, there isn't a man alive who hasn't had some sort of relationship with a woman whose narcissism led her to believe that she deserved to be coddled, pampered, and obeyed and that men are responsible for her security and well being while she provides nothing in return besides constant bitching and whining.
You last sentence would be better written as, "Vagina? Then you don't get it. Period."
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Nullbull sure read a lot into "My dad worked all day. My mom worked all day, then came home and made dinner." Who knew Lindy's talent with the pen could summarize the ageless battle between the sexes is so few words? Geez- lighten up!
Great article, Lindy!
Sometimes I wonder what I'm missing out on, when I stay away from spiritual goings on that make me cringe.
One thing that does help, is to have an open minded, but for the most part cynical person hold my hand and take me somewhere I don't normally go.
Nice work!
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2.) The Red Tent Temple sounds as ridiculous as any other religious beliefs. But at least it seems pretty harmless. If it makes them feel better about themselves, more power to them.
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If there is an afterlife, I think a Red Tent Temple is where I'm going to be forced to spend eternity (probably with my mouth sewn shut), as punishment for the wrongs I've committed.
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http://newoldtraditions.com/2010/01/05/t…
Thing is, I think, for decorum's sake, and the sake of not looking like some weak woman who can't do stuff, a lot of us unconsciously try and hold it in, and it may very well cause a great deal of pain. It's so damned hush-hush, it may cause stress which in turn causes pain. The frank way she writes about this made total intuitive sense to me--I really don't cotton to homeopathy (total nothing in pill form), but the concepts are good. And I'm fucking repressed.
"Speaking as a hard-working, spiritually advanced, equality friendly, evolved male, NULLBULL, SHUT THE F*CK UP!!! Geez, you just keep making it worse. Lindy's comment was NOT ABOUT YOU. It was NOT ABOUT MEN. The whole article was about women. Kee-rist, man! Let it go for all of our sakes."
Nullbull only made things worse for spineless dorks like you who think that the reason they can't get laid is because other men do things that make feminists angry. You are not evolved or spiritually advanced. You're a lapdog.
The sentence that nullbull quoted was about men; it was about how men work less than women. Lindy is just to much of a pussy to own up to her words.
Not so. I can't say I have ever had that relationship.
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I do appreciate the sentiment expressed about chocolate, but it's kind of like hearing someone wax rhapsodic about the amazingness of beer and say all kinds of stuff you totally agree with, and then you notice that they're drinking a Bud Light.
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Trolls: please go find another internet, one where being a dick makes you money or something. I'm genuinely starting to worry about what you consider a reasonable use of your time. I just want to help here.
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Lindy, good work as usual. You and your womb are great.
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