Remembering Jes Ryn

By Cedar Heartwood

Jes Ryn was born Jessica Kathryn Waites in Northern Virginia on January 17, 1947. A Capricorn, she was grounded and focused on physical survival most of her early life. Jes grew up with undiagnosed dyslexia, which meant school was nothing but trouble for her, and college out of the question. 

Jes married early, became pregnant, broke up with her husband, and came out butch and pregnant in a pre-Stonewall bar. She supported herself and her growing child as a licensed practical nurse (LPN) in the world of hippies, living in a group house, experimenting with drugs, learning to play the guitar. She continued to search out lesbians and lesbian community, while providing as stable a home for her daughter, Star, as she could manage. Star would spend some weekends with her father, who had re-married and was raising several children, Star’s half-sisters and brothers. Star eventually chose to live as a part of her father’s family, to navigate high school from a “normal” home base. 

Jes Ryn and I became lovers in 1980, when I was living with several women, including Loret and Mandy, in a large house in Arlington, Virginia. These new friends opened a world of feminism, spirituality, healing and freedom. It was then, in her mid-thirties, that Jes finally got a diagnosis for her dyslexia, and “learned to read.” She became an avid reader and writer, and began to carve a new path for herself that was spiritual and creative. She soon became one of the residents there.

In a growing circle of friends, Jes was instrumental in establishing “Creative Sharing,” a monthly gathering, often in our home, of friends who shared their writing, singing, visual art, or dance. She was also there at the beginning of the Coven we started, observing the quarter and cross-quarter days with celebrations we learned from Z. Budapest and Starhawk. Jes wrote the chant we used to welcome the corners and to open and close our circles. Music was at the center of her life.

Jes and I continued to hold onto 20 undeveloped acres of woods outside Arlington, dreaming of Women’s Land. We held ceremonies there and camped out. Eventually several friends moved out there, living in tents and trying to establish community. At the time, Jes’ father was dying and she was providing most of his care. She was there as he took his last breath. She was close to her father, closer than with her mother, whom she could never please. His death was heart-wrenching, but she was glad for the time she had with him toward the end. 

Jes made up words or phrases if she needed them. One was “competency-deviancy,” which meant the more deviant you were, the more competent you needed to be. (“Deviant” meant not being white, middle-class, straight, and male.) I remember a line from a song she wrote about a long-distance relationship, “Smiling mailbox brought me your letter” and many more.

Star spent the summer with us before her senior year in high school. She had her first job, and she became one of the five adults living in the house. She asked her mom one afternoon, “What do you think is the best form of birth control?” Without missing a beat, Jes said, “Lesbianism!” This was not the answer Star was looking for, but we all had a good laugh.

 Once Star graduated in 1988, Jes and I moved to SPIRAL, a remote lesbian land community where we lived for about 15 years. Jes worked in home health, using her LPN license, for a number of years, but all the while she was writing and studying herbal healing, muscle testing, and Reiki. We bought herbs in bulk from the local buying club, and she began to develop herbal tinctures and formulas, along with a growing intuitive awareness of what would help an individual woman’s healing. She began to offer Reiki, herbs, and healing advice under the name “Earth Grown Herbs,” the business that sustained her for the rest of her life. 

Jes found her tribe in the writers she met at Womonwrites. She could share her writing and singing there, as well as offering her healing consultations. She was also a vendor at National [National Women’s Music Festival] and Mich Fest [Michigan Womyn’s Festival], creating a booth for Earth Grown Herbs. Her business grew; she was very happy, having finally found her calling. 

Jes fell in love with Betsy, one of her clients, and they married in California, where Betsy lived. Eventually they moved to Alapine [a womyn’s community in northern Alabama] together. When Star married and began to have children, Jes and Betsy moved to Savannah, Georgia, to be grandmothers and babysitters, active in helping Star and being in her two granddaughters’ lives.

Jes lived in Savannah for many years, taking care of the two growing girls, caring her mother until she passed, earning a living consulting with clients by phone, and sharing her life with Betsy. Although her life was always full of drama and striving, she was content and fulfilled there.

Around 2020, Jes and Betsy moved to the remote mountains of West Virginia to get away from hurricanes and a rising sea level. Jes had a stroke that went untreated for several days. This was in 2021, during the height of COVID, and hospitals were the last place most people wanted to be, especially Jes. Finally, Betsy took her to the hospital and Jes began to stabilize. She couldn’t speak and her movements were quite limited. The hospital did not observe COVID protocols and Jes got COVID, which proved fatal. Talking with Star, I came to understand it was a blessing. Jes would not have wanted to live on, unable to communicate. 

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