We gathered in secret. You gave us no choice.

Fearful of your jealousy, of the frustrations and anger that so often saw you stumbling home in an inebriated, violent, and sexually entitled stupor, much later, when the storm had passed and our home had returned to silence, we crept out in silence, gathering with our sisters in dark places. In the colder months, we lit fires and huddled around them, swaddled in layers of clothes and hats to keep warm. We shared stories, encouraging each other through difficult moments, consoling one another, doing whatever we could to bring each other moments of kindness and respite in a world hostile towards women. We spoke of remedies that had helped our loved ones, we shared knowledge we had inherited from women before us, knowledge that would help our families and communities, and that we too would pass on.

You say we stirred up trouble in cauldrons? We were making soup, you delusional morons! Soups to feed our families. Soups to feed our communities. Broomsticks? We spent our lives sweeping up the muck you traipsed everywhere!

You spoke of us gathering to prepare spells and to brew potions. Yes, we gathered. We gathered berries to make sweet desserts, and herbs to make medicines and poultices to heal sickness and battle wounds. We gathered to help ourselves, but also to help us serve you better, so that you in turn might serve us better. We gathered to make a better world.

Our gatherings stemmed from necessity. We were brave and caring, not deceitful or scheming. Were we evil? When you showed us cruelty we may have needed to fight back with a pinch of cunning.  We learned to work around you, and to tiptoe on the eggshells of the fowl that we later killed and plucked and cooked so that you could rub your bellies and belch. Afterwards, we offered you sips of herbal concoctions to soften your indigestion.

We gathered for the survival of our communities, to find the courage to go on, to find ways to live with you and without you once you were gone and we were left alone. We gathered to find ways to ease our gruelling lives. We gathered in solace, to enjoy fleeting moments of laughter among ourselves, because we wanted to air our minds and laugh among each other. We stole moments to dance and sing, but mostly we cooked and cleaned and worked the land and dealt with animals. We gave birth, and if that didn’t kill us, we raised children.

Mostly we worked and endured.

We did not gather as witches.

We gathered as women.