LONDON — This past March 8, on International Women’s Day, an 82-year-old alchemical vulva boarded the London Tube to protest in front of parliament. Her name is Growler, and she is portrayed by Irish artist-activist Dee Mulrooney wearing flowing red and pink robes and hoods. That same day, she shared a new song, “Free Síle na Giġ,” set to the melody of the Irish nursery rhyme Dílín O Deamhas and calling for the repatriation of a Síle na Giġ statue that is currently held in the British Museum. In the piece, released by the independent community-focused record label Ómós Records, Growler urged the museum to return the living ancestor back to its Irish homeland, from where it was stolen in the 1860s.
Síle na Giġ — also known as Sheela Na Gig — are carved figures distinguished by large protruding labia lips often held open by the sculpture’s hands. They adorned the cornerstones and tympanums of churches across Ireland and were sometimes even incorporated into architectural designs. Some scholars say that they symbolize a pre-Christian goddess, while others argue that they are fertility symbols of amulets meant to protect against evil.
Although these carvings, dating between the 12th to 16th centuries, survived the Roman occupation of Britain and Christianity’s violent arrival, they were largely torn off churches in the 17th and 18th centuries. Some were saved and incorporated into public walls, where they remain today, while others are in museum collections, as is the case of the Síle na Giġ at the British Museum.
Found among the remains of the derelict Chloran Castle in Westmeath, this particular statue was taken by Sir Benjamin James Chapman, who owned the estate, and made its way to British collector George Witt. From 1860, when Witt donated it to the British Museum, the Síle na Giġ sat in the basement for over 150 years, largely uncatalogued and hidden away until it was included in the British Museum and La Caixa Foundation’s joint exhibition Revered and Feared: Feminine Power in Art and Beliefs in 2024.
Mulrooney, who first began demonstrating in the streets of Berlin, where she lives, during the COVID-19 pandemic, traveled to see the sculpture in February. The artist has been fascinated by Síle na Giġ ever since she began her activism as Growler, who is named after a slang term for “vulva” used in the Northside of Dublin. She started working with the Merseyside-based arts organization Heart of Glass, which sponsored Growler to visit Síle na Giġ at the British Museum. For Mulrooney, “this is part of the pilgrimage.”
“She’s an eternal pilgrim because there’s no fixed destination,” she said. In other words, the project won’t end with the repatriation of this Síle na Giġ.
But when Mulrooney, as Growler, arrived at the British Museum, the Síle na Giġ was out on display in Spain, so she traveled to see her. The artist was deeply disturbed by what little context surrounded the collection of female spiritual symbols at Caixa Forum in Madrid. Despite panels indicating that many consider the Síle na Giġ a living ancestor, there was no recognition that the sculpture, along with many objects on display, were stolen. The artist also said she was prohibited from entering the gallery space in her Growler attire.
“It’s mad that we couldn’t make that decision as women ourselves to invite a representative of the Mother of God in to talk about a kidnapped ancestor,” Growler said.
The Caixa Forum and the British Museum have not responded to Hyperallergic‘s requests for comment.
So on International Women’s Day, Growler debuted her song set to a joyous Irish tune that every primary student in Ireland knows, calling for Síle na Giġ’s return.
“It’s using human levity to talk about something that is really quite dark,” Mulrooney explained about a video she posted on Instagram, showing Growler on the steps of the British Museum.
Her song did not just call for atonement for a living ancestor, but also affirmed urgent human rights as access to abortion is under attack and gender-based violence remains prominent in Ireland and the United States.
“It’s not about a stone sculpture that fell off a church in the 1860s,” Mulrooney said. “It’s way deeper than that, she’s a symbol for female sovereignty.”