Amazon Women Rise

Wednesday night at Michigan is the Opening Ceremony. M and K had arrived and redecorated the grotto - making a bit fancier. and a bit more, well, tie dyed. Which for some reason is actually charming in the woods.

But do not. Ever. Introduce anything tie dyed to my living room and I will quietly kill you with sarcasm. Or with very, very bland food. And cruel looks.

I even liked the fancy goddess banners.

After a day selling sex toys with the lovely Jenae, a dinner of Indian Curry and oddly large broccoli spears, we all showered re-dressed, grabbed our officially short enough chairs and trotted off to the main stage. Just in time for the opening ceremony.

The weather was perfect. The light was beautiful. The field was packed with women. Ubaka Hill drummed. Ruth Barret chanted. Ferron sang Imagine as women rose with signs lettered with words.

I love Ferron. There is something so compelling about her gravelly voice. It gets under your skin and holds you up. More women kept standing with more words. It was beautiful.

Then it was time.

For the annual singing of Amazon Women Rise.
Call it cheesey. Call it woo woo.

It's power. It's amazing. Thousands of women, singing and dancing the same song at the same time in the same place for 34 years.

Earlier that day ATB had been joking about it. I'd promised her that I'd come and find her and we'd rise. She was thinking she was too cool for the rising. So M and I ran over to the smoking ok/chem ok section and found the Chicago gyrlls.

Here's the secret. No one is too cool for this moment. Every woman rises. From the 80 year old woman in her wheel chair, the 43 year old pregnant woman in a loin cloth, the 30 year old tattooed hipster ro 6 year old little girl blowing bubbles who's thrilled that she gets to wear her tutu every day for a week. We all rise in our own way. With smiles on our faces and joy sparkling in the air. We rise.