London, 13th November 2020
Friday the 13th turns out to be unexpectedly sunny and warm, even though we’re well into November. I'm walking towards Hampstead Heath – a vast green space about five kilometres north of Trafalgar Square, stretching across 320 hectares of woodland, hills, and meadows. I walk up the narrow streets of Hampstead Village, past beautiful gardens and stone churches, clearing my head as I go. I’m processing the end of a long relationship.
I reach the highest point of the park, where a view of the city unfolds, and sit on a bench shaded by trees. As I take out my diary, I notice a woman with a small dog by her side. Her long, dark green waxed coat moves in the wind as she walks down the hill. Behind her, a dozen crows hop about, and soon more fly in. A few take off to join the back of the group, while others land next to the woman. As she approaches the edge of the forest, she raises her hand in a swift motion, and the flock of crows takes off, settling on the branches of a large lime tree. The woman, with her dog in tow, disappears into the woods. My diary entry for that day begins: “I just saw a Crow Woman.” Dramatic, I know..
This somewhat fairytale-like scene makes me think of the women in myths and legends. In folklore, independent, strong, and powerful women were often depicted as witches – old, ugly, or even terrifying figures. On the other hand, there was the good-hearted, kind, and submissive woman. This reflected the historical and patriarchal structures of the time, where a woman’s value was often tied to her relationship with men – as a wife, mother, or daughter. Independent women were often seen as a threat to society, so their power and wisdom were presented as negative traits.
Sadly, this divide still exists in a woman’s life today, as we often find ourselves navigating between selfishly pursuing our own interests and constantly yielding to others, losing ourselves in the process. But there's a middle ground between silence and selfishness: the right to exist fully and defend who you are. Perhaps that’s why encountering the “Crow Woman” on Friday the 13th was something more than a fleeting sight. It was a reminder that we are allowed to – and should – take up space; that difficult decisions are often the right ones. I can only speak for myself but I’m sure the balance between sacrifice and selfishness is something we could all stand to learn.
Finally, my grandmother's favourite poem when she was a teenager (which, by the way, inspired my song "I am the whisper of blood"). Such beautiful rebellion and the promise to be everything all at once:
I am no woman. I am a neuter.
I am a child, a page and a bold resolve,
I am a laughing stripe of a scarlet sun…
I am a net for all greedy fish, I
I am a toast to the glory of all women,
I am a step towards hazard and ruin,
I am a leap into freedom and self…
I am the whisper of blood in the ear of the man,
I am the soul’s ague, the longing and refusal of the flesh,
I am an entrance sign to new paradises. I am a flame,
searching and brazen,
I am water, deep but daring up to the knee,
I am fire and water in free and loyal union…
Edith Södergran