Her Mother Tongue

Felicia Sol

I come from women who survived by shrinking. I tried that too—made my life neat, made my voice polite, made my longing a private hobby. It didn’t hold. I was raised by an alcoholic Lakota runaway and discipled by a cult that told me holiness was obedience. My body knew better. It kept humming: there is a wilder, kinder way. These days I practice a daily liturgy of listening—intuitive, erotic, embarrassingly tender. I mother four bright beings and the girl inside me who wanted to be free. I teach self-worth as sacrament, boundaries as mercy, and desire as a compass you can trust. My God is love. My work is remembering. My offering is a rebel’s theology of transformation—usable, embodied, just dangerous enough to set you honest. hermothertongue.substack.com

  1. Why we don’t want sex

    قبل ٣ أيام

    Why we don’t want sex

    Most relationships aren’t starved for sex—they’re starved for attunement. In this kickoff, we unpack why “I don’t want sex” often means “I don’t feel safely, slowly, specifically known.” The episode opens with a real call from a friend questioning divorce, then moves through safety rituals, curiosity as foreplay, and “mother-grade noticing” you can practice tonight. “I’m not into sex” often means: I don’t feel safe, seen, or specifically known. We address why we need to connect first and why it’s not asking for a lot. Want to know me! Don’t ask me to open my body before you open my mind. What you’ll learn Why “I don’t want sex” often means “I don’t feel safely, slowly, specifically known.” Performance vs presence: date-night checkboxes vs reading the body. Consent as architecture (negotiate → check-ins → aftercare). “Mother spidey senses” for everyone: notice need before words. Self-knowledge first: the Gesture Glossary + a 60-sec self-scan. Try one of these tonightOne slow kiss (no goal) • One real question you don’t know the answer to • One sensory upgrade (light/music/scent) • Ask: “What helped your body breathe?” Pull quotes “We’re not asking for more performance. We’re asking for attunement.” “Safety didn’t kill the thrill—it made the risk taste like freedom.” “Curiosity is foreplay.” “Know your tells to read theirs.” Get full access to Her Mother Tongue at hermothertongue.substack.com/subscribe

    ٣٣ من الدقائق
  2. قبل ٥ أيام

    Mother for hire

    Felicia explores the everyday altar of motherhood—where care becomes love when it’s shared, not hoarded. Through a Dark Goddess lens (Dancing in the Flames), she reframes “self-sacrifice” as a broken cauldron and argues for boundaries, shared labor, and the courage to receive as prerequisites for giving. Pop-culture moments (a “Gatsby gala,” The Hunger Games, and “They were careless people”) help teach our kids what not to emulate—and what to build instead. What you’ll hear: Children as initiations, not nuisances The altar vs. the martyr: why love requires reciprocity Grief, regret, and the tenderness of shared care The Dark Goddess as a guide to wholeness (laundry-room altars, Baba Yaga questions) Why boundaries, rest, and pleasure keep the “cauldron” from cracking Teaching discernment in a spectacle-driven culture References & resources: Marion Woodman & Elinor Dickson, Dancing in the Flames: The Dark Goddess in the Transformation of Consciousness F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby (“They were careless people…”) Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (the Capitol as spectacle) Takeaways: Caring is love’s teacher—but only when it’s shared. You can’t pour from an empty body; you also can’t pour if you never receive. Ordinary rooms can be altars; ordinary tasks can be rituals. Our magic isn’t gone—it’s waiting for a stronger pot. If this moved you, share it with one friend who’s carrying too much—and subscribe on Substack for essays, early drops, and members-only conversations. Get full access to Her Mother Tongue at hermothertongue.substack.com/subscribe

    ٤ من الدقائق
  3. ٣٠ أكتوبر

    How I Dropped Purity Culture

    Felicia traces a lineage of women who never rested grandmother, mother, herself—and the moment she burned down a “perfect” life to make space for truth. This is a tender, feral meditation on rest, eros, and the inner girl who only appears when she’s loved. A rebel’s theology of transformation, usable, embodied, a little dangerous. Episode Highlights The women who never sat down: inherited hustle, tender pride, and the cost of being “good.” The pedestal and the cage: how “perfect wife/mother” scripts sanctify our exhaustion. On virgin myths and hidden bodies: why purity culture tries to sterilize the erotic. The fire moment: choosing truth over optics and watching the old house burn. Meeting the inner fairy: rescuing the malnourished self from the cave. Rest as resistance: moving from self-betrayal to self-belonging. Boundaries as mercy; desire as compass; devotion as daily, embodied practice. Mary Magdalene’s subversive gospel: the treasure is within; rules without love are cages. Learning to be seen without apologizing—and the holy art of posting, deleting, and trying again. What it means to mother four souls while re-mothering yourself. Who this episode is for Women who are tired of being the exhibit of “having it all,” mothers who feel guilty for wanting more, ex-good girls, and anyone ready to trade performance for presence. Listener Takeaways A simple reframe: “I don’t need to be better; I need to belong to myself.” A mini-practice for rest you’ll actually do (bath, sun, nap, movement, kiss, post, delete, try again). One permission slip: Your desire isn’t the problem, it’s the map. Get full access to Her Mother Tongue at hermothertongue.substack.com/subscribe

    ٦ من الدقائق
٤٫٩
من ٥
‫٤٤٥ من التقييمات‬

حول

I come from women who survived by shrinking. I tried that too—made my life neat, made my voice polite, made my longing a private hobby. It didn’t hold. I was raised by an alcoholic Lakota runaway and discipled by a cult that told me holiness was obedience. My body knew better. It kept humming: there is a wilder, kinder way. These days I practice a daily liturgy of listening—intuitive, erotic, embarrassingly tender. I mother four bright beings and the girl inside me who wanted to be free. I teach self-worth as sacrament, boundaries as mercy, and desire as a compass you can trust. My God is love. My work is remembering. My offering is a rebel’s theology of transformation—usable, embodied, just dangerous enough to set you honest. hermothertongue.substack.com

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