The FABULOUS Womyn of Urban Tilth!

We are proud to be apart of such a group of dynamic, visionary women

Photos taken by our multi-talented CSA Coordinator Christian Parra

At Urban Tilth, we are gardeners, farmers, Watershed Restoration Technicians, Herbalists, Garden Educators, Teachers, Operations Managers, Nursery Managers, Farm Managers, CSA Managers, Farm Stand Coordinators, Volunteer Coordinators, Executive Directors, and Board Members!

We are a little late for Women’s Month but for us, every day is women’s month!

Here’s a beautiful poem by J. Rowe titled ‘Woman’ from the Anti-Police Terror Sacramento newsletter:

To the women who hold on to courage long enough to feel beautiful

You are enough

You are composed of small revolutions

You are full moon swallowing the waves of hesitant self

And as the sunlight breaks its promise to the night, you awake

You listen to whispering leaves tempt your ancestors tongue

You dance among apprehension

And while you seel sun in belly

Skin, bone, and soul saunter across the dull pavement

Heart syncopations entice still air

But you my dear, are a small revolution

Tell em…

You are the intersection of grace and pain

Tell em you tired of dwelling in a past life

Tell em I know fourth graders that cannot read or write

Tell em the cops said it makes the arrests easier if he cannot read his rights

Tell em you are concrete words and bruised lips

Tell em you are the consequence of honesty

Tell em you are not dark metaphor composed of despair

Tell you are not the ashes of a Phoenix

Tell em you are the fire

Tell em you’re angry

Tell em as sunrays cascade over the day, burning a million shades of gray

Miracles house your body

Tell em you are a woman

Tell em – to be a woman is to cross legs with grace while baring the burdens of life

Is to conceal 19th amendment in womb

Is to be taught how to swallow tongue like the finest delicacy

Is to listen

Is to sit in silence

Is to know that at any moment the rights to my body could configure the outline of

a question mark

To be woman is to be marked as measurements

Is to present rejection in the form of flattery

Is to pray you do not become his prey

Is to resist the systemic noose

Is to be body-shamed and called loose

But I mean, doesn’t that make me a woman?

To be wedged between arbitrary and absolute

But you, my dear are a small revolution

You are untamed kinks and cocoa butter skin

You are unconditioned cuticles and perfected flaws

You are wonder wrapped around withered truth

You are weeping willow casting its shade on summer days

You are persuassive melodies and cross-rhythmed thighs

You are morning dew clinging to rose leaves and thorns

Tell em you matter

Tell em You are phenomenally…Woman.

Photos by @parratookthis