Punchy Protagonist

There is currently a post ciruculating around the agriculture community on Facebook, some of which I am a frequent browser of. It reads: To the women raising cattle for butcher, but cuddling a wet, struggling newborn calf, that’s covered in afterbirth, inside their pickup truck.   To the women who believe in God and the word, but also believe that everyone has a right to love who they want.   To the women who aren’t trying to prove they can do anything a man can do, but genuinely enjoy pushing themselves to conquer any challenge.   To the women with broken and chipped nails, but still have painted on red polish.   To the women giving immunizations and administering medicine, but still believe in the healing powers of stones and plants.   To the women always dressing up for the occasion, wearing yesterday’s curls, blue jeans, and the heels of cowboy boots.   To the women busting their knuckles and callusing their palms, but still wearing their ...

Today was the first Sunday for the new pastor at the church I attend. It also marks the first time that church has had a female pastor in its 167 year history. It also marks the first time I have attended a church with a female pastor. She was positive, straight-forward, and spoke as if God’s love naturally poured out of her. For the first time in a while, my heart felt light in church.  For the first time in a while, I felt comfortable in the pew and content after the service. For the first time in a while, I saw a person in the pulpit that I felt I could talk to without judgement, even with uncomfortable topics. And that was just after one sermon. So, naturally after that revelation, I decide to post a little message of my own. Today’s post is brought to you by the letter F...for Feminism. I was raised by a family of strong women and by men who did not try to silence or squelch them. I was raised by men and women that told me that I, as a woman, could be anything I wanted to b...