Alive the trees are hot under my feet,
their roots I feel tremble beneath the earth.
There is a swelling, under my toes, ripples.
Stretch out to oceans, there is an untangling of ribbons flowing free.
Like hope flying high with wind into cold shimmering skies.
Like a star burst to the brim.
We are Magical Women.
This is our first blog post on Disability Arts Online. Magical Women’s founder, Elinor Rowlands creates accessible/empowering spaces for ND and survivor artists removing risk found in neurotypical and more conventional situations in the arts.
Magical Women is committed to accommodating the needs of “difficult and challenging” (also known as Autistic/ADHD, neurodivergent and survivor) female/feminine artists because MW is run by them.
We need to call out discrimination and unconscious bias if change to attitudes and assumptions of autistic/ADHD neurodivergent and survivor traits is ever going to change. We need companies and organisations that exclude and reject or patronise Disabled and ND artists to understand that ableism is deep rooted and if they want to be more inclusive they need to look at their own attitudes and assumptions and commit themselves to training with disability arts organisations and speaking with and listening to more neurodivergent autistic/ADHD artists.
We need more autistic/ADHD female leaders.
Change will only happen if it begins at the top and with the significant lack of neurodivergent and autistic female artist leaders in the arts, Magical Women was born.
Elinor’s own neurodivergent traits inform her practice and she safely journeys with contributors and participants to explore their power and voice using art.
as the flowers look out for us
hear their beating hearts as petals thump against
warm comforting chests.
through thick woods
the forest floor is hot. Warm.
Under our bare feet.
Our hearts are bursting, open too, too wide, wide open, with a swinging door bruised and form hanging, from hanging off the hinges
a filter that’s never clogged
a door that doesn’t know what shut means
minds always fluid and free a porous world
within our bodies. We create environments, secret rooms. Tunnels.
we keep words tucked under our bones.
as you keep wood to burn for your fires. we look at our scars, traced like a map; paths.
we see flowers, as you pick them to keep in your vases. we hear clouds.
The trickle of deep rooted truth
circling the starlings
that fly ahead
that turn our heads.
our faces tilt, our skin is soft,
music above us coiled in a memory
that carries our lips
and holds us in a prism, as we remember why
it’s important to lift magical women up.
All photographs by Elinor @ Magical Women