Once upon a time, on a late Friday afternoon, there was an itty bitty slip of a thing–or as itty bitty as a 5’9″, thirty year old woman could be. She was so teeny that she wasn’t even wearing a bra and there was no jiggling or jangling. It was like Miracle on 14th Street….
When you are continually told–in words, in actions, in systems–that you are worthless or less than, you have to seek out things to love. And that self-love becomes an act of rebellion.
The confirmation that the Birka Warrior is a woman does more than just rearrange our assumptions, it shows us that when we have women archeologists and historians, we’re allowing different assumptions to seed and grow.
So in January 2020, like every other year, I bought myself a spanking new planner. A whole book of crisp, white pages just waiting to be filled in with the mundane and the exciting. Coffees and dinners and deadlines and trips! (We had a lot of travel planned for 2020). There were big birthdays and…