Feminine Forever

The twentieth anniversary edition of a transformative blueprint for ancestral healing—featuring new material and gateways, from the renowned herbalist, natural health expert, and healer of women’s bodies and souls “This book was one of the first that helped me start practices as a young woman that focused on my body and spirit as one.”—Jada Pinkett Smith Through extraordinary meditations, affirmations, holistic healing plant-based medicine, KMT temple teachings, and The Rites of Passage guidance, Queen Afua teaches us how to love and rejoice in our bodies by spiritualizing the words we speak, the foods we eat, the relationships we attract, the spaces we live and work in, and the transcendent woman spirit we manifest. With love, wisdom, and passion, Queen Afua guides us to accept our mission and our mantle as Sacred Women—to heal ourselves, the generations of women in our families, our communities, and our world.

These women changed art forever - told in colourful graphic novel form, this is the story of four pioneers of feminist art: Judy Chicago, Faith Ringold, Ana Mendieta, and the Guerilla Girls. Each made their mark in their own powerful way. Judy Chicago made us reassess the female body, Faith Ringold taught us that feminism is for everyone, Ana Mendieta was a martyr to violence against women, while the Guerilla Girls have taken the fight to the male-dominated museum. This graphic novel tells each of their stories in a unique style.

Example in this ebook AT THE LOST-AND-FOUND DESK Yes, that’s my bag. I left it at the lace counter. Thank you. Please give it to me. What? I must prove property? Why, don’t you see it’s mine? That twisty silver monogram on the side is really E. C. S. That’s my name, Ella C. Saunders. I told Jim I thought the letters were too wiggly to be easily read, but I never thought anybody’d want to read it but me. Describe contents? Why, of course I can describe the contents! In one pocket is a sample of lace, just Platte Val, you know, not an expensive lace, and with it—I think it’s with it—is a sample of rose-colored crêpe de Chine—that is, not exactly rose-colored—sort of crushed plummish or burnt magenta—but no—come to think, I left those samples with my dressmaker. Well, anyway, there’s a Subway ticket—or let me see, did I use that coming down? I believe I did! Well, there’s a little memorandum card that slips in—the celluloid sort, you know. No, there’s nothing written on it. I don’t use it because, though they pretend you can wash them like a slate, you can’t. They just smudge. What do you mean by saying I haven’t told a definite thing yet? I’ve told you lots! Well, there’s some money—I don’t know how much; some chicken feed, as Jim calls it—and a five-dollar bill, I think—oh no—I paid that to the butcher. Well, there must be a one-dollar bill—two, maybe. Oh, and there’s a little pencil, a goldy-looking one; it came with the bag. And some powder-papers—those leaves, you know; but I believe I did use the last one yesterday at the matinée. Oh, dear, how fussy you are! I tell you it’s my bag; I recognize it myself. Can’t I tell you of some personal belongings in it so you’ll be sure? Why, yes, of course I can. My visiting-card, Mrs. James L. Saunders, is in that small inside pocket. “Why didn’t I tell you that in the first place? Why, you rattled me so; and besides, I thought I had to tell of my own little individual properties, like samples and tickets and things. Anybody might have her visiting-card in her bag!” To be continue in this ebook