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