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Through the stories of St. Valentine’s and Christianity and Capitalism, I find myself deciding to honor a very forgotten origin of Valentine’s day: The She Wolf .

Although the origins of Valentine's day are still speculated, we know what it’s turned into: a high pressure day singled out to either give you anxiety and question your ability to be a good partner or an in your face reminder that you’re single. Within all  of that, I constantly find myself looking for some real meaning I can assign to the 14th of February.

Because this isn’t going to be a history lesson, I’ll just say that it’s speculated that Valentine’s Day could be seen as an attempt to christianize the Pagan holiday of Lupercalia. Lupercalia is believed to celebrate the mythological story of the She Wolf who took care of Romulus and Remus. The short version of this myth is this:

Their Uncle sent them down a river in an attempt to murder them.

The She Wolf nursed them back to health, and eventually they were found by a shepherd.

The twins were raised as shepherds, eventually found their way back to the city, and then Remus is killed by Romulus (or one of his supporters depending on where you get your gossip from) and Romulus went on to found the city of Rome and reigned as its first King. 

The festival itself was filled with nudity, sexuality, feasting and ritual sacrifice. Which when you think about it, sounds like a wilder version of Valentine’s Day.

Back to the She Wolf.

Lupercalia was a celebration of cleansing, health, fertility and of the She Wolf, without whom there would be no Rome, according to the mythology.

This is what I want my Valentine’s Day to be about. I want to use this holiday to celebrate my own She Wolf. The badass side of me that is also nurturing, and the reason I stay strong. I want to take the day to recognize that the power and strength that I have exists because I have been here for myself and been able to make it through some pretty shitty things. 

So for Valentine’s Day, or Lupercalia, I will throw my own festival, celebrating myself and all the things that I have made it through. That festival won’t involve a date or a teddy bear or cards, but I am getting myself some chocolate and flowers and I’m definitely incorporating the nudity and bringing in my own “fertility” ritual that may or may not involve my vibrator.

We deserve to be rewarded for persevering. For being bold and sharp when we must, and for being gentle and soft with ourselves when we need it.

Because without that fighting spirit and tenderness that’s nursed me back to life so many times, I wouldn’t be the person I am today.

And to me, that feels like a good way to spend February 14th.