‘I’m a mixed Black female historical re-enactor in a sea of men with beards’

Not everyone would want to spend their weekends dressed in a tunic fighting medieval battles, but my love of re-enacting is rooted in keeping history alive

It is the summer of 1265. I am bottling leeches in an open-air apothecary as a medical apprentice of the church. Minstrels tune their musical instruments and soldiers sharpen their swords. Gloucester has just been captured by Prince Edward, and royal forces are growing in the west of England. The men come to me for yarrow to staunch their bleeding, comfrey to heal their injuries, and sulphur to soothe their sores. I smile at their faith in vinegar, a woman’s touch and prayer. But secretly I long to be a lowly foot soldier, fighting with the men in the mud.

Eventually, I summon the courage to pick up an axe and infiltrate their ranks. My presence on the battlefield is not as unlikely as it might sound. Some of us, such as Margaret of Beverley, fought. Only a little cross-dressing is required. I swap my ankle-length kirtle for a tunic, the wimple on my hair for a coif and helmet, and wrap my legs in woollen hose over large linen trousers. A knife hangs at my side. My femininity is hidden beneath a heavy protective gambeson or tunic. Its stitches are grubby and grey, as if the garment itself is sewn together with gristle. The thick padding absorbs the shock of a weapon, though sometimes a blade still slips through. At this point I drop my axe, clutch my chest and groan. The crowds, delighted by the spectacle of death, begin to cheer.

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from The Guardian https://ift.tt/9oIl6kJ