Five hundred years ago, midwives were the leaders in reproductive health. These healers were wise in the ways of plants and herbs, wombs and childbearing, and were frequently targeted as witches (Ehrenreich and English). Though these “witches” were the ones who understood bones, muscles, herbs, and drugs at a time when physicians “were still deriving their prognoses from astrology and alchemists were trying to turn lead into gold” (53), women healers were branded as “superstitious and possibly malevolent” (Ehrenreich and English 57). Mostly because they posed competition to institutionalized medicine.
By the mid-twentieth century, midwifery had lost footing in the United States, and medical treatment was parsed into two categories: the (predominantly male) doctor who cures and the (predominantly female) nurse who cares (Ehrenreich and English 96). In this divide grew a looming gap of knowledge: an understanding of herbs and plants.
We’ve come a long way. Doctoring is no longer reserved for men, herbs are making a comeback, and women’s reproductive health and womb autonomy looks nothing like it did in the pre-modern age…oh, wait.
Books like Angelica Merritt's Womb Witch are important to help us reclaim some power, hearkening back to the 1970’s movement Our Bodies Ourselves to educate women about their reproductive health. It’s time to bring back this 1970s movement, and a bit of the 1500s, too, remembering that wombs and herbs go together. As Merritt put it in an interview with Inglenook, “Literally everyone comes from a womb. Wombs connect all life.” Creatively and physically, there’s a deep connection between throats and womb spaces, which is why childbirth is (supposed to be) so vocal. Holding back one’s voice—whether in labor or in life—can literally cause physical tension in the uterus, because wombs and voices are connected. Voices are meant to be heard.
With herbs, it’s a little different. We have to slow down, listen more, be prepared for a quieter response. Merritt advises that herbs are generally gentle, they don’t behave the way big pharma solutions do. Many take time to unfold and work their magic. Just like with medicine, not every herb is right for every person, and some have strong effects on health conditions, which is why having a trained guide is important. It takes a lifetime to truly become a “master herbalist,” so be wary of those who call themselves one. But don't be intimidated: anyone can start learning about herbs. Womb Witch can help. Merritt advises sourcing locally: “Your bioregion matters. Your home soil is going to do more for you, and provide fresher herbs." Like the old adage “you are what you eat,” we are of the soil where we live, and are best supported by what it grows.
"If you have a womb, or love someone who does, this book is for you"
Womb Witch shares insights about nutrition, herbalism, and the average womb-holder’s issues from menstruation to menopause, but also gives attention to the topics often swept under the societal rug, such as PCOS and miscarriage. Merritt’s book offers archetypal wisdom, journal prompts, and sparks of wisdom, such as the inspiring reminder that womb holders experience creation and destruction within themselves every month. Think about that: if you have a womb, you experience creation and destruction inside you, each and every month. Basically, we’re goddesses. But you don’t have to possess a uterus to be a womb-keeper. If you cultivate and respect the powerful role that wombs play, you’re a goddess too. And if that’s not your word, and if neither is witch, that’s fine; hang on to womb, the source of us all, whose cycles are sacred and intrinsically connected to this planet we call home.
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Inglenook Lit is an online literary magazine for magic enthusiasts and enchantment seekers
