My God is an Indian Woman

God looks different to everyone. If you close your eyes and imagine what God looks like, what will you see? Will you see a white man with a big white beard sitting on a cloud? Will you see Our Lady of Guadalupe bedecked in stars and a radiant sun? Will she be Indigenous or Latina? Will you see a small Vietnamese monk, sitting in meditation, smiling at you kindly? Will you see an angry God, a happy God, a sad God, a joyous God?

I am curious about the way God looks in our diverse and wildly free imaginations.

When I close my eyes before I fall asleep, I look for God. What I see is a big Indian woman. She is so big that I cannot see her face, only her two braids hanging down her shoulders, over her breasts. She is maternal. A grandmother, a mother, an auntie. She is wearing a blue dress with little orange flowers splashed across it. She has beautiful brown skin, bare feet, and her toenails are painted pink. Hot pink. There is dirt under her fingernails because She likes to dig in the Earth. She is a planter and a harvester of goodness. Her body is soft and warm. It is large enough that I can crawl into her lap like a child and fall asleep. She strokes my hair and sings songs in a whisper. I cannot understand the words, but her voice calms me.  She lets me write from her lap. I bring my pens and she kisses each sheet of paper as she passes it down to me. Together we write. I do not do this alone. Visitors stop by. Hawks, Eagles, and Swans land on her shoulders. Prairie dogs dance around her feet. Horses lean against her back. Fish swim under the folds of her dress. Trees and mountains grow from her thighs. Ancestors whisper secrets in my ears while she throws her head back and laughs. She is my God.

Here is your writing prompt: Tell me, what does your God look like?


3 thoughts on “My God is an Indian Woman

  1. Thank you for this gift of vision – As I close out a busy Saturday, finishing homework and preparation for in class presentation Sunday, I needed this gentle reminder that God is uniquely ours – that is our heart space, our inner most longing. For some God may be viewable, but I like DeEtte, do not have a personal vision of God – God is the still small voice that when I can quiet the monkey clanging cymbal of my mind, I am afforded brief encounters of pure bliss and joy. When I know that all is one, that the interconnected web of all existence of which we are a part is true, simple truth, and then I relinquish fear, questioning and doubt and allow spirit to be…

  2. My god is not a person with a gender. The god I know cannot be seen, like the wind, the tide, the force that moves the stars. God is mystery, the unknowable force for good in the world. God is the energy that gets me moving to march in a protest, to teach peace, to go to jail in the cause of justice. God is the warm glow in my chest when my lover touches my hand. God is the inner knowing that our love is right when bigots tell me their god hates us.

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