A choir of Sirens: a collective voice for action, change, equality
IWD Siren Songs
“Every woman is the architect of her own fortune.”
―Jessie Burton,The Miniaturist
I love the myths of the sea, the sound of the waves, the brute force of it pushing, pulling, churning, rushing, channeling.
The song of the Siren is the song of the world: stories, poems, koans, allegories, chants, murmurs. We hear the words of women everyday - but are we really listening?
“The Siren is one of psyche’s deadliest anima aspects, luring the ego overboard, pulling consciousness off course, obliterating the memory… addiction, delusion, seduction’s disintegrating madness, she is a daughter of a river god and a muse… she wears a human face while her body is that of a bird, clawed, winged and feathered. She is volatile, fleeting, primordial…” From The Book of Symbols: Reflections on archetypal images, Taschen
I believe we are our own muses, calling forth our creativity, our craft, our courage and our subconscious truths that shape and morph and merge into the lives we live, woven imperceptibly within the fabric of ourselves, our dwelling places, our bloodlines, families, friendships, sisterhoods, neighbourhoods, communities and like-minded kindred groups dispersed around the globe, connecting and collaborating.
At various stages of life, there is the need to shape-shift and take on the aspect of the Siren, purely to survive the trauma of living, of being. A Siren isn’t a malevolent force, but a guiding light. I want every woman to be able to connect with their inner power, their hidden depths, their inner Siren - and take action, collectively, for us all.
We are the warp and the weft, the framework for ourselves and others, holding the tapestry of conversation, communication, cooperation as we hold our arms up to the skies and call out for equality, louder, louder, until we’re screaming it into the void, the sun, the rain, the sea, the waves, the world.
There’s so many essays I thought about sharing here today, for International Women’s Day 2025.
Over decades, I’ve written down the stories of my life, documenting in various guises my unique lived experience as a woman, echoing the collective experiences of womankind:
As first a daughter, niece, sister, then embracing the freedom of independence, venturing out in the world, becoming a wife and becoming a mother. Losing myself, and finding myself. Losing my mother while pregnant with my daughter.
Yet this isn’t about me, about my individual experience, or even about women as individuals, this is about the harmonising of many voices into one unstoppable, undeniable voice.
One message. One truth. Action for equality. Accelerated Action.
I love the myths of the mermaids, of selkies, of sirens. I can identify with the seductress as much as the crone. I embraced ‘Mermaidcore’ and lost myself in the carving and inking and designing of patterns as a Pisces woman. I love the sea, the allure of its virgin, unknown depths, vivid and wild, a tumult of colour.
I explore and interrogate life through my art and my words, and I share a glimpse of my experience only to share the gifts we bestow on the ones we love and care for. Messily, humanly, through instinct and through pain, as much as in peace and light.
But this is bigger than that; an omnipotent knowing that needs to break free.
The biggest transformation of my life was rebirthing as a mother, yet the burgeoning growth of my daughters’ becoming saw me lose my own mother, a loss I’d been dreading yet anticipating all my adult life.
‘Days 5-6: After initial cell division, the embryo moves to the womb where it embeds. This process is called implantation. Implantation and subsequent development of the placenta enables the embryo to obtain nutrients and oxygen from the mother.’
It was at that point I channelled everything I’d ever learnt from my mother into my own mothering. The unknown strength, courage and fortitude that only rises to the surface when needed. Looking back I wonder how I managed to cope, juggling my grief as well as my hope for the new life I was carrying. I am my mother’s daughter. She gave me that strength.
I love the analogy of a woman being like a teabag (and I love tea).
A woman is like a teabag - you never know how strong she is until you put her in hot water. Eleanor Roosevelt
But it’s more than that still.
We’re constantly reappraising, shifting, searching, creatively problem solving, and reinventing ourselves to match the life phases and challenges we face. Like the original Sirens, we’re part human, part animal, at any given point, striving for our lives.
‘Days 12-14: Our internal body organs and tissues, such as muscles, heart, kidneys and backbone, are made from a special cell layer called the mesoderm. This forms in the 2-week-old embryo from a unique structure called the Primitive Streak.’
When my daughter was 15 months old, I found wild swimming. A chance conversation, coincidence, serendipity. Through the kindness and generosity of other women in my midst, their siren song. It’s been my saviour.
I relish the texture of the water on my skin, the sharp cold as it alters my breathing, the nature notes of geese, sunlight breaking through clouds, pebbles, rocks, stones, layers of hills, wild flowers, birds, mud, rain, wind.
Those are my siren days, emerged, submerging myself, birthing myself anew to keep on being the best version of myself I can be, amidst the sanctuary of other women.
We lift each other up, let go of the burdens we carry, if just for a few precious moments, and refill the well . Often there’s tears: of joy, sadness and release. I’ve found my Sirens, and I hope you have found yours.
Today I’m celebrating all the women and men in my life.
Inclusivity, not exclusivity.
For we are never on the rocks alone.
We are Sirens side by side.
We will steer this ship towards our rights and never stop shouting for our place and space in this world. All the power and strength I have, I owe to the mothers and daughters and sisters before me. My ancestors, our ancestors.
Finally, today feels like the perfect day to spill these poem-words freely, safely, amongst my sister-voices. I wrote them in the aftermath of grief. Maybe they will resonate with you and give strength and hope to freely give everything in this one precious span of time in this world - because energy can never be destroyed.
My Mother is the Sea
My mother is the sea, and I
the river
screaming towards it.
Yearning, calling, gushing, nearer.
I hear her roar, imagine the grey of the rocks
soaking her in
the sand, in secret pools and soft striations.
I sense the salt of her,
the sting of the spray in my face: a hug
crashing, embracing. I drown in her,
submerged
until the tide draws her away.
She is released from me, a dark rush under the waves
suddenly
like bees swarming a hive.
I see her ashes disperse on the surface,
catching the light
chatoyancy
patterns, holding fragments of me.
She is vast, and I am a stream.
My mother is the sea
shining, retreating, her voice: ‘not yet’
calling to me.
Soon enough:
I will be the sea.
“Fear is contagious, but so is courage.”
Susan Sontag
Let’s #AccelerateAction - all of us, for all of us, a chorus of Sirens singing songs of freedom and of change. We will not be suppressed, but rise, rise, rise, up.
My patterns inspired by the sea are available as fabric, wallpaper and home decor in my Spoonflower Studio. Also my wild swimming collection for fellow wild women (and men!).
Last week I got a cold tub and today I was in my element - literally - submerged, cross-legged, a few spots of rain and then the sun, bright and glorious. A bee buzzed around me, and a chorus of birds were at play, darting, singing. It was a simple moment, but I honour my life. I am lucky, I am grateful, I am a Siren.
Your poem sends ripples across the world to me, containing magic and depth and so much meaning. Thank you for this contribution!
Thank you so much Laura, I'm so glad my words resonate with you. Ripples and threads, our Siren Songs! This post spilled out of me and I loved contributing to the theme <3