Savage-Voices | Dreaming Wide Awake

It only takes one voice, at the right pitch, to start an avalanche.” - Dianna Hardy

Savage is an uncomfortable word.

It reaches past the reasonable, rational parts of our brains and stirs up instinctive trouble.

Cellular memories, embedded in our DNA, evoke visceral reactions - anxiety, nervous twitches, uneasy glances at passersby, at strangers waiting in line to pay, pick up, drop off, sign up, make returns, and board public transportation.

Savage makes us particularly nervous when others fail to meet our expectations - when they behave in ways we don't expect or assert their independence, strength, and right to self-determination.

Savage Voices seeks to redefine what it means to be a proud, purposeful, and passionate voice in this world. Once heard, a savage voice cannot be unheard and becomes a force to be reckoned with. Below is the poem that started it all.

Women and Savage Voices

I got into a disagreement with a friend about using the word "savage" on my website. She felt it was negative, off putting, and violent. I finally concluded that it didn't have to be any of those things - that there is another definition of savage that women need to embrace.

We need to be strong, trust our instincts (which tell us when we're in danger), and uncompromising in our defense of our physical, mental, and spiritual rights.

Women can no longer afford to be "nice," complacent, obedient, or treated as less than men. We must access and use our Savage Voices to be smart, strong, uncompromising forces for good in this election and the world. We Won't Go Back!

Savage Voices

"Living in the earth-deposits of our history” - Adrienne Rich

Savage, she says,
with hands pressed to her heart
and blood on her thighs,
is the iron core of loving
the fertile soil that wraps the seed in darkness,
feeding its sleeping purpose
with the Earth’s sweet sweat,
the warmth of sunlight,
and deposits made by those
who walked the Earth before you.

Savage, she says,
is knowing your presence was planned,
woven into the backstory sung by whales,
etched into the lifelines of your hands
and the soles of your feet,
knowing that every footfall
spins a thread into
the warp and weave
of our evolving story.

Savage, she says,
is beauty wedded to form and function,
the loose-limbed, measured pace
of the panther stalking her prey,
the bad-ass, sassy sway of a woman’s hips
as she declines to serve,
declines to stand aside,
and steps instead into balance,
into the center of her life,
into power.

Savage, she says,
is standing naked in the presence of stars
that plucked your white-hot splendor
from the hotbed of creation
and sent it shooting,
shimmering, streaming
into the dreams of daughters
waiting to be born,
waiting to be reminded
that the Light of their savage mothers
flows through their veins.