Chapter 8
Tonight i learned about about Artemis's dolls.
The dolls made in rock and sculpted that little girls gifted her for protection in marriage and childbirth. Those little girls asked for protection in marriage and childbirth. Those little girls.
This disgustingly sad discovery hit me right in the chest, piercing through millenia of unheard pain, transformed into a dark fabric wrapped around my heart. I want to see those girls faces, take in the abnormalty of their hopes and expectations, take them in my arms. I hope i could cover them with my wings enough for their insane purpose to be forgotten and them to be send to a sweeter childhood away from deities and men's schemes.
I wish those dolls would have just been dolls. I wish those girls would have just been girls.
But here i am again, discovering another piece of women's history, adding slowly to an already too big mosaïque, containing some happy fragments but too clouded by blood, pain and sharp angles to be properly appreciated.
I find comfort in the traces that we manage to keep of them, and in my belief that Artémis took care of her girls as much as she could. The virgin hunter protecting girls from childbirth and marriage could sound like a joke and our history like a comedy show if it wasnt so sinister.
I know we are not very good at remembering, but let's not forget the dolls of Artemis's girls. A child shouldnt have to share a burden with a god anymore.
E.L. :•