Getting to Ireland by Umbilical Cord and Lace



I was recently at a witches gathering where I attended a Spirit Gallery and the psychic there told me my dead grandmother was going to help me unravel a family curse. Yeah, if your life is boring, give something like that a whirl.

Whether you believe any of that first sentence or not, what is coming next is exceptionally important. It has to do with feminism, and patriarchy, politics and history, lost arts, money, time, death, religion and the proof of paternity.

When tracing your ancestral line, papers and websites are convenient for tracing the paternal line- it goes by last name of course, and connecting the belts can get you to a previous century without much confusion or detective work. And, of course, the more money the family had, the more "things" were passed down and the more proud the families were about where they came from. 

However, what I am following is the umbilical cords-- my mother lineage-- My, mother’s mother’s mother’s mother…  which is absolutely infuriatingly impossible because all of these obliging women took their brand new husband’s last name. (Been hoping for a lesbian or feminist along the way but I guess I’m the one that will have to break the last name change routine)

Besides patriarchal power reasons, there is absolutely nothing reasonable about a woman taking the last name of a man and then assigning that last name to her child. Why? Well, let’s just say paternity tests were not invented to determine whose vagina the baby was being pushed out of.  The only easy way to determine the bloodline of the child would be, obviously, through the mother.  And, that my friend is reason enough for you to follow your OWN maternal ancestry. Not all mama's are "dutiful" to their husbands and not all mamas are impregnated by the man of their choice. 

The details I was able to come up with came to a screeching halt at my great grandmothers entry into the US sometime in the 1890’s. We knew her maiden name when she arrived and because her own mother was kick-ass,  she gave her child a middle name which was her mother’s maiden name. Thank you great-great-grandmother for not completely ditching your family name the moment the sperm hit town.

I’m studying lace and crochet patterns particular to my family, looking at marks on the back of jewelry and trying to find quantum time lapses where I can sniff out the blood of the birth… It’s devastating to keep face planting into each generation’s patriarchal wall and to have to unknot the ancient crochet work just to find the woman.

Spirits, witches… believe what you believe but patriarchy is a curse that is real. These women that birthed their babies, that carried, pained, pushed and bled to bring you to this earth today- able to read this- that is real. 

Learn your blood. Pay homage. You are the next ancestor. 


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