I was once a part of a womens group called The Red Tent. It was originally called the “Red Tent Temple” but I think many drifted away from calling it that as to not scare the normies away from checking it out at least once.
Originally, it did have a definite mission statement or two, but I think it was really more of an experiment. It was supposed to be a group where women gather in a calm, relaxed setting. They would each have an opportunity to speak and be really heard by others. Then they would ask for what they need in that moment. Maybe it could be provided, maybe it couldn’t. But at the very least, it was to be a peaceful, respectful, non-judgemental environment. “Safe Space” as it was called.
There is some history behind how this group came to be. If you’re really curious, you can check out the original webpage by the creator. But I’m not really here to discuss that. I want to talk about my own journey in this group. It was originally an outstandingly successful event but gradually decayed until it was a sad mockery of what it had once been. I learned a lot of lessons in this process, and those are what I want to pass on. I don’t think any of these lessons I extrapolated could be used to restore Red Tent to what it once was, unfortunately. It’s too far gone. If these lessons are to be used, it will likely have to be an entirely new movement that looks nothing like the Red Tent Temple.
So, what did Red Tent look like at its peak? At its peak, Red Tents were spreading everywhere through central MA, even into other states, and sometimes even overseas.
The one I went to was especially wondrous to behold, as we would decorate the spaces of our gatherings lavishly with fabric, christmas lights, and other ornamentation. We had a core group of volunteers who were dedicated to making this event happen. It was pretty much like an assembly line to the point where the facilitator and owner of the decorations would only have had to secure a time/day, and the rest would have happened on its own. Having four to six women dedicated to decorating and spending quality time together was pleasant. When the rest of the women showed up, there would often end up being a theme each month of what sort of things people were going through. Autumns and winters were tough and full of loss. Springs and summers were joyful and full of opportunities. I took great joy in this aspect because it felt like we were all connected in some way. It was hugely unifying.
It really seemed like women were bonding with each other peacefully. Women found strength from listening to other women get through their struggles. They found resolve in themselves from observing other women grow.
Many of us learned how to relax and ask for what we need, and in turn learned that there was support available if we just ask. It was all very positive.
And then it exploded. People grew frustrated with each other. Many of our core group drifted off for one reason or another. The load-bearing beams fell. It just wasn’t as fun or easy as it used to be. No one bonded the way they used to. It took a while to figure out just what had lead to that event. In truth there were several things. That’s for later. Story time isn’t done.
I ended up starting my own Red Tent in another town. The level of atrophy and indifference in the movement overall had already taken root. By the time the Red Tent movie was underway, I could already smell the decay in the movement. That was what I was starting with. The things I saw along the way were discouraging. And ultimately, the things Red Tent desperately needed became glaring neon lights five inches from my face. It got the the point where one day my boyfriend looked at me and said something along the lines of “You know… we’ve been dating a while now, and I’ve never heard you say one good thing about Red Tent.” That was what snapped it all into place for me. I needed to get out of Red Tent.
These experiences left me extremely burnt out. It was a good two years before I could even look back at what had happened, let alone examine it. But when I did, I found myself with a wealth of new knowledge, and some very practical advice to give. Like I said, the Red Tent has declined even more since I left two years ago. Even casually browsing the pages for it on Facebook gives the impression that its a hissing hive of lunatics. And from what I saw while I attended, it makes perfect sense that that would be what it has morphed into. I will never, ever go back, despite my greif about the glory days long gone. My gaze is forward-facing. And that’s what I want to write about next – what lessons from Red Tent are worth taking with us as we move forward.
Thoughts About Womanlyness. 