What if Maeve was a man?

What if Maeve was a man?


Shelley Irish, 5/30/19

Before going to Ireland I just knew the soft parts of the myth of the Goddess Maeve, the honoring of cycles, the eternal aspects of mother land. The legend I know is that each king of Ireland was married to the current living queen and equally to the goddess of the land, Maeve. The kings reigned and expired, goddess Maeve is always. 

Queen Maeve, as talked about by the locals, chose to war for the countries best bulls, ever ready to conquer the best of the moment. This is a big part of her legend and she is buried standing up in the center of a burial mound made of rocks, facing Ulster in anger after not gaining her prize bull, I had no idea, ha! Protecting the spirit and bounty of the land? The eternal goddess always wanting to work with the best? Reverse the gender mirror and if Maeve were a man, he could be a territorial, murderous entitled dude. 

Who is she? What are the layers between the goddess and the queen? What are the other colors of her rainbow?

Who would he be, if Maeve were a man? Would he be tired? From standing ground protecting himself and the bounty of his land, his lover, his sisters and daughters, his mother? 

Maybe he’d be ghosted out, standing stiff, up there with her, his mirror, eternally balanced masculine and feminine rage fueling the cosmic fire of activism. Protecting the sanctuary through honoring anger as teacher. Maybe he’d embody, stand in a castle garden and let himself cry about crimes against his father earth as a Priestess speaks. Maybe he’d be solar panels. Maybe he’d be the glee of little boys exploring a deeply cared for world. Maybe he’d be everywhere, his hands turning the fields, turning on the lights, being the rock at our back. Fiery. Ready. Focused.