by Soror Madimi
Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law.
I do not define myself by this identity, by this mask called “woman.” I am defined by my starhood.
I defy the way that this identity happens to be politicized, commercialized, or stitched into a script to try to keep me terrified. I am not defined by how I was socialized into convenient silence or unhappy compromise, or how my light has been minimized. I am not a vessel for the projection of a masculine archetypal potential. My starhood stands on its own.
The harshness of the past keeps us woke, keeps us sharp. I know the loss of my mother’s name and her mother’s name and her mother’s name in the “mystery” of marriage. I breathe through a memory of their incarnations, their diminishment to the light of the men in their family constellations. But in this generation, I am the coruscations of my own starhood, beyond my mother’s or my father’s name.
You are not the product of those who flattered you or judged you, who tried to mold or to shape you, who hoped to make you or tame you or demanded you subordinate your light to theirs in order to stay alive. Your star extends in spite of rejection, in spite of the gravitation of someone else’s personal expectations. Your starhood survives.
A woman’s body is not a surface of reflection, is not made as a mirror for another’s ache for inspiration. Her shape and soul are echos of her own burning stellar exaltation. She is human fire among human fire, a light to your light, a sun to your sun, a speech calling out speech. She stands whole; a perfect reflection of her own starhood alone.
I do not accept that these silent secret genitals somehow define us as a manlike, passive receptacle. Nor do I believe that the concave shape of this body, the darkness of its interior cavity, signify somehow that we are meant to be a partial arc beside someone else’s solar unity. We are, instead, the wholeness of our radiant singularity, the Khabs of our own identity. Our starhood: both speech and silence in its unity.
Your starhood lacks nothing; lacks not hollowness, nor radiance, nor rigidness, nor softness, suppleness, nor firmness, not the subtle electricity nor the elasticity, nor any sacrosanct solar quality that shines in the fullness of your own star.
Khabs am Pekht, Konx om Pax, Light in Extension
Love is the law, love under will.
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