By A’Ja Lyons, WLRN Guest Contributor
Featured photo of A’Ja and Brenda at the Fest.
Is it safe for us to remember our childhood games? ‘Play’ looks different these days. The twenty-first century is a digital age where human “connection” is most prevalent via screens and instant messaging. But some people still prioritize human connection sans technology. As much as the world has changed for the worse in 2025, many simple traditions remain. In Spring 2025 I attended the Midwest Wimmin’s Festival in the Ozark Highlands and was taken back to a time before human connection was rewired to check out instead of checking in.
Midwest Wimmin’s Festival (MWF) has occurred in some iteration since the 1970s. Many women from MWF’s early years still attend the festival. Renowned music teacher and folk musician Jori Costello has attended every festival since 1987. The festival attracts mothers with toilet-training toddlers to octogenarians. I, a woman in her mid-30s, attended my first Midwest Wimmins Festival in May 2025. I felt as though I’d returned to 1999 summer camp shenanigans amongst those white oak and river birch trees. The campground facilities were simple and hearkened back to my girlhood running to choose a bunk, and I believe that to be the appeal. I’d heard of Midwest Wimmins Festival from a lesbian feminist friend of mine. Many of these gatherings are still publicized among sister-friend to sister-friend by word of mouth. I encountered a number of women who’d heard of it from our mutual friend, C, a lesbian farmer from Kansas. C, a decades-long festival goer who’d shared details of MWF with me, encouraged me to go and checked in as I prepared and made the 5-hour drive. C is a sweet lesbian aunt to younger women like me. I made quick connections with other Oklahoma women in attendance. A number of women traveled from northwest Arkansas, a hidden gem of scenery, carefree sisters, and women’s land. But women from as far north as Minnesota and as far east as North Carolina made the trip to Missouri to experience the magic of women in community.
A porch cabin served as registration to orient incoming women to a cabin of choice or tent area. One cabin was designated for women with children, another cabin for wild women to roar, and on the other side of the camp, there were quieter cabins for elderly and disabled women, and those of us who prefer calm. None of us were roughing it; the cabins had electricity and hot water.
In the dining hall, we feasted on vegetarian dishes prepared by women providing helping hands, and cleanup done by other helping hands. Omnivorous women held a ‘Meat Night’ one evening outside of their cabin with a grill. As tranquil as the food and fellowship was, rarely is a large-scale event without any friction. When two women in the cafeteria were in conflict, women split into two groups to envelop each one in a compassionate embrace until the tension dissolved. An exhausted volunteer became quickly and easily frustrated over a question of where utensils not in their usual place were. The physical embodiment of the sisterly love surrounding each woman quelled the animosity. Love smothering all else. Silencing and moving away from anger with love.
Days were loosely scheduled: swimming at the lake, writing, crafts and board games. Meal times were as precise as volunteers could get the food out. Friday night was for dancing queens and princesses. DJ Jori chose the tunes, from disco to pop to R&B and even Latin vibes. Ladies young and wizened went to the dance floor to move, breathe, and be. Many of us have lost that ability in societal conditioning of dress, script, and performance. Around the fire pit where women beat drums, roasted s’mores, flirted, laughed, and sat together in solemnity. Saturday night in the rec hall women and girls gathered for the erroneously named ‘Talent-less Talent Show.’ The little women went first. Preschool girls sang familiar nursery rhymes. Preteen girls danced to the latest hip-hop beats. Young, middle-aged and elderly women told jokes, displayed their musical prowess on the guitar and with powerhouse vocals, and yours truly performed poems. The night closed with a sensuous belly dance.
Busy hands and feet went to work Sunday morning cleaning, packing, and departing. I did my share of cleaning, but had to leave by noon to return to Oklahoma and pick up my child. I missed the good-bye sister circle and any last-minute grabs from the free clothing in the Rec Hall, but still hold bonfire smells, hugs from new and old friends, and the tastes of veggie delights close to my heart.
Beautifully written, accurately and poetically described. MWF is free flowing and easy going so be sure to mark your calendars. Confirmation of dates is in Jan. but always aiming for the week AND weekend before Memorial Day. Thanks A’ja!
Thanks for stoppin’ by, Jori!