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Permalink to original version of “Three days in North Carolina” Three days in North Carolina

Augoost Lowenhardtopronounce recently wrote an article on some of the food we served up at the women-only retreat in North Carolina. True to her words, the food was great! And there were more victuals than she mentioned in her write-up. Good old fashioned mac and cheese, chili, jalapeno cheddar cornbread, red beans and rice and other delights kept the spoons and forks working and the kitchen in a constant state of disaster.


Also, the libations available kept everyone in great spirits (pun intended).


I recently posted a two-minute video of many in the group having a raucous, rather juvenile moment. Ten thousand views and hundreds of down votes later, the comments to that video are full of deluded SJWs thinking that this was some sort of “gotcha” moment. I will be making another video in response to their sexist, homophobic, staggeringly hypocritical remarks. That should be up later tonight or tomorrow.


I also got some expected flak from a small handful of respected MHRAs for posting those two minutes. In my response, I will also point out why I think their concerns are miscalled.


Before doing any of that, however, I want to tell you about the retreat. Not in a two-minute video of gals cutting up but in what actually happened the remaining 4,078 minutes of the retreat.


First, there was the cooperation. During the entire event I never once heard someone say, “This (or that) needs to be done.” What I heard over and over was “What can I do to help?” It was not a rhetorical question from people who just wanted to appear willing. These were women that rolled up their sleeves before even asking what they could do.


In the cool of one evening there was a poetry reading. There was a woman who wept and talked about the pain she felt when she was demonized for loving her daughter and wanting time with him. There was an expert in plant life who explained our immediate environment in a way that lent new meaning to everything around us. There was a lawyer washing dishes by hand behind a very large group of women. She didn’t even bother asking what she could do to help. She just found something that needed to be done and did it.


Another woman noticed a weak railing on the lower deck and tied a number of red flags on it, then made sure everyone knew why they were there.


There was a woman who woke up early every morning to make pancakes and coffee for everyone. Like everything else that happened there, no one asked her to do it.


There was a moment of recognition for two women who have sacrificed immeasurably to follow their values and to insist to a hostile world that women are human beings. No trophies. No longwinded speeches. Just the open expression of sisterly love for women who actually know what sisterhood is about.


There were women from the US, Canada, India and the UK, all connected. Not just by a common language, but a common cause.


There was a truck driver, an entrepreneur, a biologist, an attorney, writers and musicians, psychotherapists and counselors, a corporate mail room worker, a former college professor, a computer tech support provider, an engineer and others whose professions I do not know. There were Republicans and Democrats. There were Libertarians and the completely apolitical. There were Christians and Atheists. There were married women and MGTOWs. There were women in their 20s, 30s, 40s, 50s, and 60s. All of these people, these women, connected and shared in each other’s strength, wisdom and respect.


Those of us awake at the ungodly hour of noon.

Those of us awake at the ungodly hour of noon.


The point is that none of our so-called differences made any difference at all. From the moment we arrived till the last suitcase was removed, we were what so many SJWs claim to be — and who fail at it in spectacular fashion. We were a group of women whose differences were completely eclipsed by our shared dreams, hopes and ideas.


Did we exclude men? Yes we did. Will we do that again? Most definitely.


There will be other retreats in the future. Men will be invited to many of them. The men of AVFM and the MHRM are also welcome to their own retreats. We will be happy to support that.


The women at AVFM hold our fellow male activists in very high regard but we will never buckle under the weight of the foolish idea that there is anything wrong with female space. If the retreat proved anything, it proved before my very eyes that female space is not about division. It is about love and respect. Each and every woman who joined us in North Carolina for that weekend walked and talked the very meaning of those words.


There was one other thing that filled that weekend. Beauty. The mountains around us were thick with foliage the color of emerald. High atop the mountain we had the view of clouds at eye level; fluffs of gentle whiteness against the azure of a flawless sky.


Kudzu blanketed parts of the landscape, including massive patches of trees and abandoned houses from times long past; living sculptures too beautiful for me to do them justice with mere words. In the same respect, I am limited in what I can convey about three magical days where the kinship between women took shape as its own work of art.