Wednesday, September 05, 2012

She Decided To Stop Being A Woman.

Questions... Questions...
What does it mean to be 'a woman'... not a woman the body, but woman the construct...
Are we set up to fail?
I'm often surprised by the conversations I have with men - in 2012!... where women are 'creatures' to be despised, controlled or desired... I'm surprised by the narrowness of the views. Many of otherwise lively intellects fail to question their own misogyny, and in conversation, their ideal woman is revealed as being not much more than a corpse with a pulse... Pretty, mindless, pliable... Silent.    In 2012 you scratch the surface in conversation and get nails full of patriarchal sludge... I asked a friend the other day, I said, do you actually like women? Not, do you like having sex with them, but do you like them? 'I gotta be honest,' he said. 'Not really.' And this man a creative, a digger of the human condition - blind to half the population.
It got me to thinking. How can men be taught to love women when they are taught to suppress, ridicule and despise everything feminine in themselves? When women are characterized as merely receptacles of their values? The virgin that will save you, or the whore that will destroy you? Is anyone really having sex with anyone else - and by sex I mean communion - in this state of identity, or is it merely a delectable game of master and slaves...? Questions... questions...
I need to get back to work. But here's a free-write I did today for my Free-Write Wednesdays group on Facebook...
I dunno. So much of the progress we've made in consciousness feels superficial. Post-feminist when women are still oppressed ideologically, physically and socially.  Post-racial in a world still grossly inequal along colour lines. The mind boggles...
Here's the free-write. Much love and so on and so forth.
Being a Woman - Free-Write 05/09/12

The only solution -
she decided -
was to stop.

Being a woman.

Price too high,
victories pyrrhic.
She'd looked in vain
for her own reflection
and in man's eyes seen only
hunger for satiation
self-destruction or salvation
she thought
"F**k em!"

She would simply stop
being a woman.

to some a prison
to others a punchbag
Heaven, hell, mummy, siren, medusa
trophy, demon, naif, hooker, madonna
save me, leave me, fuck me, go away
take it off! Put it on! Put it in! go. Stay
give it, show it,
shake it, shave it...

shove it!

her own desires
a distraction - hindrance - her own thoughts
an inconsequential buzzing
her mind grew cross-eyed calculating
her virgin-to-whore ratio
she measured herself
the same others measured her
she knew not what she was to herself
only what she was - not -
not a mannequin - not perfect-smooth
not perfect-silent nor fully poseable
but completely
relentlessly real
waiting for the world to
expand big enough
for the breadth of her expanses
waiting for the world to catch up
to her running dance was
a waste

so maybe the thing to do was simply
being a

be an original -
something else -  anything - a comet a volcano
some intellectual hazard of a non-gender-identified person

NOT to be was the only solution.

(but very soon the panic was back
that other pesky idea
of her being 'black'...?)

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