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Wombstorm: A Herstory of Hysteria

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Wombstorm: A Herstory of Hysteria

Daniel Henry Rodgers

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“The uterus is sad and unfortunate when it does not join with the male and does not give rise to a new birth.” - Plato (Timaeus)

“Hail wayward Queen! Who rule the Sex to Fifty from Fifteen, Parent of Vapors and of Female Wit, Who give th' Hysteric or Poetic Fit.” - Alexander Pope

“But I MUST say what I feel and think in some way — it is such a relief! But the effort is getting to be greater than the relief.” - Charlotte Perkins Gilman

“We must kill the false woman who is preventing the live one from breathing.” - Hélène Cixous:

“Not only is the actual word ‘hysteria’ gendered—it once referred to an exclusively female disease, a mental illness thought to be caused by a malfunctioning uterus—there is a very long history of critics using accusations or innuendo about women's mental health or emotional stability in order to shut down their political voices.” - Sady Doyle:

“After great pain, a formal feeling comes— The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs—” - Emily Dickinson:

“She seemed a thing that could not feel The touch of earthly years.” - William Wordsworth:

“What’s the greatest lesson a woman should learn? ... she’s already had everything she needs within herself. it’s the world that convinced her she did not.” - Rupi Kaur:

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The womb is not a prison, but a schemata for uncharted power. Between the lines of history, the forgotten women exhale with conflagration. - Poet

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I. THE WANDERING I was born with a life that bled— a seafloor womb dragging tides of fern and marigold char The priests brought saffron and fear crowning me with diagnosis They said: She is too empty They said: Fill her with figs with seed with stillness They said: Her belly speaks too loud Mute her O Plato old patriarch of phantoms my body was no beast— just prophecy you never learned to read "The uterus is sad..." you wrote but it was your mind that roamed chasing shadows through a woman’s anatomy it was your thought that needed cauterizing. II. INCANTATIONS IN LATIN A midwife kissed my knees with vinegar. Galen’s ghost pressed salt… into my tongue. They labeled me: widow's throb seed-sick womb-wept. Symptomology—paroxysm trembling visions of color. A bishop marked my temple in salt called the brand heresy. I howled once That was enough When I bled they baptized it "fit!" Diagnosis: Uterine Fury Treatment: Submission O Saint Hysteria patron of the misunderstood deliver us from knowing. III. THE YELLOW ROOM Charlotte peels wallpaper with the tip of her soul Her husband counts the tendrils Prognosis: Nervous Prostration Prescription: Silence sunlight sweet compliance The rest cure is no rest It is a crypt where nouns born before verbs can be reborn She climbs the wallpaper’s fabric fingers quill-stained with meaning They say: Her nerves speak rebellion They say: Her ink is impudent They say: Her mind mimics sanity But her mind is architectural neuron built to collapse into freedom IV. THE CURE Enter the doctor iron hands— his stethoscope tuned to disobedience Patient exhibits: chronic resistance to role acute melancholia womb misbehavior He prescribes the bed the child the marriage that baits like a trap He prescribes the little engine of God— a steel vibrator brass-coiled buzzing administered with averted eyes He says: You will thank me after I say: The after is what I fear Outcome: Managed symptoms quiet mouth Case closed Symptoms abated Creativity subdued Marriage intact He wandered my diagnosis But it was you who wandered V. BERTHA BURNS THE HOUSE At Thornfield I am attic-bound kneeling among cracked porcelain gods My name Misremember written in attic dust My hair a fire escape— braided exit scorched prayer I speak in tongues of splinter and soot I bite the pages they wrote me into Diagnosis: Madwoman Prognosis: Containment I am not lunatic— I am ledger I am not danger— I am mirror I am not wife— I am wound When I leap I drag patriarchy by the fringe Let Rochester cough in the smoke The “madwoman” was not broken— she was a prophet censored for knowing too much VI. POST-MORTEM Sylvia slumbers The bell jar was culture-blown Virginia leaves stones in her pockets not in protest but to anchor centuries Emily dashes her poems into locked drawers— dashes not periods no diagnosis can follow— “He hurts a little though” she wrote and that was enough to stain a century Syndrome: Excess of Feeling Remedy: Erasure Wordsworth sketches paralysis: “She has no motion no force...” But we moved even in stillness We seethed beneath the bonnet A woman on the subway grips her throat— panic coded as inconvenience The doctor says Yoga Breathe Smile more VII. EPILOGUE: THE WOMB RETURNS And now unshackled the womb returns home— not to pelvis but to page A pen bleeds where scalpels once threatened In the margin: We birth ourselves We name the madness We reclaim the scream “There is no female mind… Might as well speak of a female liver” But behold our minds— volcanoes with velvet tongues not organs oracles We are not hysterical— we are historical thunder We are her We are howl We are what survives the diagnosis— naming not home but heaven Let them call it storm Let them label it loss We will write it as rebirth In the silence after diagnosis listen— that is the sound of a thousand pens unsheathed.

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Nette Onclaud

Date: 7/20/2025 8:36:00 PM

really a gripping, grating masterpiece visually arresting as it is true gut - feeling... to weave a lithography of a woman's life stages in an empowered way makes you an awesomely deep poet, daniel!

Daniel Henry Rodgers
Date: 7/25/2025 7:51:00 AM

Dear Nette, coming from someone whose own poetry grips and glows, your praise felt like moonlight on wild water. Thank you for seeing not just the structure, but the spirit. I’ll carry your comment with me like a token carved in trust. With admiration and poetic kinship, My Dear Nette, Daniel

I Am Anaya

Date: 7/20/2025 12:03:00 PM

It's all what the women below are saying...I'd like to add that ...Ashley Longshore is known for her bold, pop-art style and often addresses themes of feminism, consumerism, and female empowerment in her work, a woman wearing a crown adorned with figs, symbolize fertility. The prominent uterus on her shirt directly references female anatomy and reproductive rights, a recurring theme..We are women not wombs! Thank you Daniel, for sharing important history of herstory in such poignant poetry Fav~

Daniel Henry Rodgers
Date: 7/25/2025 7:49:00 AM

Dear Anaya, Thank you for taking the time to read Wombstorm not only with your eyes but with your spirit. "We are not hysterical—we are historical thunder" was a line born of lineage, and your response made me feel that storm is shared. And speaking of lineage… my wife is one of three sisters, and together, we’ve raised three daughters where each with their own lives of wild grace. Now have three granddaughters, and I also have three sisters of my own, which means I’m perpetually surrounded by fierce, brilliant women. Maybe that’s why this poem came through the way it did. I’ve learned from every one of them that thunder isn’t noise it’s the sound of truth announcing itself. Summer Blessings, Dear Anaya, Danie

Len Gasun

Date: 7/20/2025 8:47:00 AM

Such a marvelous work my dear poet friend, Daniel. A lot brilliant thoughts you've shared to us here. I love it and a fave. Thanks for for gracing my evening with this precious gem and your wonderful talent. Thanks a lot for your wonderful visit on my page too. God bless you always. Hugs

Daniel Henry Rodgers
Date: 7/25/2025 7:45:00 AM

Dear Len, Your words gave me that rare peace, the kind only felt when someone truly sees what you’ve tried to say. I’m deeply grateful for your poetic soul and the shared time on the page. May your days be filled with good words and gentle stirrings, and blessings, My Dear Len, Daniel

Maria Williams

Date: 7/20/2025 6:01:00 AM

Dear Daniel,this is absolutely breathtaking. Every stanza pulses with fury, grace, and truth. The weaving of history, diagnosis, and the reclaiming of voice is brilliant. “We are not hysterical—we are historical thunder” gave me chills. This isn’t just poetry — it’s resurrection through language. Bravo. A fave for me...Hugs

Daniel Henry Rodgers
Date: 7/25/2025 7:44:00 AM

Dear Maria, Thank you for letting the thunder reach you and for calling it with such grace. Even fury can be a form of healing when held in kinship. I'm honored beyond words. With warmth and deep friendship My Dear Maria, Daniel

Richard Lamoureux

Date: 7/19/2025 2:08:00 PM

You put a lot of thought into your pieces. Another incredible write.

Daniel Henry Rodgers
Date: 7/25/2025 7:42:00 AM

Hello Richard, I am grateful for your response. I am a therapist but also a father to three grown daughters, and now have 3 granddaughters and my wife is one of three girls and history was not always kind to our daughters. Thanks again Richard, Daniel

Kim Rodrigues

Date: 7/19/2025 1:52:00 PM

Wow! I would need a highlighter and the written page and to look up some of these references. I know this is beyond terrific! You have us, especially women, wandering the page, not looking necessarily for the total meaning, but feeling each verse. Wow, again! A fave!

Daniel Henry Rodgers
Date: 7/25/2025 7:40:00 AM

Dear Kim, Thank you for seeing the layers, for highlighting not just the poem but the soul behind it. You helped me believe in its resonance all over again. With heartfelt gratitude, My Dear Kim, Daniel

Mystic Rose Rose

Date: 7/19/2025 10:12:00 AM

Let them call it storm Let them label it loss We will write it as rebirth It has always been about re-birth, and misunderstood by so many, especially men from days of old.

Daniel Henry Rodgers
Date: 7/25/2025 7:39:00 AM

Dear Rose, you understood the storm not as chaos, but as emergence, and that means more than I can say. Thank you for standing with me in that reclamation, for seeing beyond the labels to the luminous core. Your response reminded me that we do not write alone. With love and kinship, Dear Rose, Daniel

Anne Winter

Date: 7/19/2025 6:30:00 AM

Dearest Daniel, oh my, what a poem you've written! How deep are your thoughts. Wow, this poem left me breathless and it stirred my soul deeply. Every line, every word is thought provoking. I wonder how many women spent their lives doing dishes and laundary when they could become Einstein or Lincoln. So much wasted potential. I wonder how many women were diagnosed. I respect you so much for such masterpiece. Your thoughts are brilliant. The world needs more people like you. Warmest Regards, Anne

Daniel Henry Rodgers
Date: 7/19/2025 9:07:00 AM

Dearest Anne, Your message truly warmed my heart and thank you for reading my poem so deeply and taking the time to let me know how it struck you. It means more than you know to hear that my words could bring out that much feeling, and even leave you breathless for a moment. The thought of all those lost dreams and silenced voices with so many women with the spark of an Einstein or a Lincoln, but kept to the shadows by history has always haunted me too, and I’m glad the poem sparked on that level for you. summer Blessings, My Dear Anne, Daniel

Lin Lane

Date: 7/19/2025 1:57:00 AM

What you are hearing may be the sound of my brain trying to decipher every line. From diagnosis to post-mortem and rebirth. I've never experience hysteria or a herstory such as hers... thankfully. This is quite a diagnosis and not sure of the recovery, Daniel.

Daniel Henry Rodgers
Date: 7/19/2025 9:04:00 AM

Dearest Lin, I’m grateful you took the time to wrestle with every layer even if it felt like a diagnosis with no clear cure. That’s exactly the weird, impossible space I was sitting in as I wrote it. Thanks for meeting me there, for letting the herstory hit you, and for always giving me such thoughtful, honest reflection. You make me want to write braver. Summer Blessings, Dear Lin, Daniel

Sara Etgen-Baker

Date: 7/18/2025 5:06:00 PM

Daniel--your skill at creating dramatic monologues is beyond words. The stories you weave with beautiful imagery and subtly make your words engaging. The intensity of your monologue is impressive. Have a blessed evening, sara

Daniel Henry Rodgers
Date: 7/19/2025 9:00:00 AM

Dear Sara, Thank you so much for your beautiful words! Seriously, your kindness just made my day. I always hope my writing sparks a feeling or two, but hearing you were truly engaged… that’s pure gold. Summer Blessings, My Dear Sara, Daniel