A Woman

It's rare that I get to experience reflective moments of being a woman. Issues of race are where my passion and my anger usually lie. But when it comes to gender I tend to dread the language of gender politics - sort of like how I used to try and quickly read over words like "civil rights" and "slavery" as a child. I knew that if I read too deeply into these words, if I even looked at one of them too long on a page in a history book, that I would find so much pain. I didn't think I could handle it. I would come to find out at 17 that after the pain comes such beautiful freedom. And now more than a decade later, I am a woman. And finally, I'm allowing myself to look deeply at words like "patriarchy" and have a real response. Numbing chills that have me wanting to check myself.

Vulnerable. I want to update my status about it.

For the bulk of my adult life I've been trying to fill these woman shoes without ever really looking into how much this patriarchal society really effects me. Of course, I've intellectualized it, fought it, fought feminism. but have I yet internalized the implications? No. I haven't. Until today.

We're all victims and we all drink the poison - It's hard to recognize poison if it's in the water and has been in the water our whole lives.

This year I've become so much more fabulous and light. And free. And for the first time, really looking at what it means to be a woman.

I've been one of those women who scorns die-hard feminists with their birkenstocks, robbing women of our femininity. When did wanting to bear children become a sin? I actually like being barefoot in the kitchen sometimes. and whats funny is that I was raised on the "anything boys can do, girls can do better" mantra. My mom had the tool belt in our family. I've spent a great deal of energy trying to pick the good elements of "tradition" out of the feminist trash bin. in extremity, yes, feminism has robbed many women of some very pure experiences and has added guilt to some very beautiful and honest expressions... the differnce, of course, is choice. but is it really that simple?

First of all, I feel like I'm missing a term. Between patriarchy, matriarchy and feminism, I feel there is something missing. I suppose the closest word I can think of is freedom. And freedom is difficult for everybody because we're either told who to be, or we become so anti that we oppress our spirits and rob ourselves of inherent authenticities. We must express ourselves. We are so divine.

It's hard being a woman.
Sexual liberation. Hoeing.
I don't want to over intellectualize it. But I'm ready to feel it.

My thoughts are kind of all over the place. That's why this is a blog and not an essay.

Fabulous/glamorous. Barbie-doll/trophy wife.

I think we're in a new generation of feminism. I won't call it post-feminism, because I think the term just upsets the bra burners, and I think we need to unify. Calling them bra-burners is probably not the best way to start. But since we're speaking of bras... I barely wear them. I wear camisoles with built-in support. Ladies?

I know my mother couldn't get away with that when she was my age. Hell, there probably wasn't even the option. I know that human beings act like a pendulum. If we're pushed too far on one side, we snap back all the way and just as far to the other side. And we swing back and forth until we reach a comfortable equilibrium. Homeostasis. And we're able to chill. until we get bored and someone shakes the ball. For now, let's work toward peace, however brief.

What we need now more than ever is a space to be us. A space to channel our way of thinking and of learning and of working as women. And we need a time to bleed. We need a system that has a free place for us - not to be men, but to be women in all our fabulous glory. Wherever that may be. However that may be.

Am I going to start wearing birkenstocks? I already have, I bought my first pair this summer. And they're red. My dc heads know, wild women wear red shoes.


Popular unrest snuffed up with just one touch
A love that's unjust.
A knot that undoes.
In the womb the blood christened by bickering that beckons the coming...
Like cows for the fattening.
Show pigs in oblivion.

Traditions of mutilation is futile hatred of the fertile pearl in the person of the universal matron.
Internalize hatred.
Clouding human reason.

Women and men with venom that both poisons men and women
but crushes the women and ushers in male dominion.
Ready for the new war fought inside this sickened, mangled, tortured, gendered vision.
We don't need a program.
We don't need a time.
Total revolution.
Wash away these crimes.
We don't need to reform an evil system that needs to be destroyed,
who's architects need to be tried for evil and lies.
We don't need this sickened, mangled, tortured, gendered vision no more.

Woman couldn't have a love of her own.
Hell's patterns of speech is his.
Tell Adam to keep his ribs.
Women have enough broken bones.
Wouldn't matter if he opposed the beast until women rose and took the throne.
And beckoned him to push and grow.
Everything they took we hold.
Practically all we own is actually all a loan.
We're practically all alone.
Estranged from to mothers
the same as each other:
and the one with x and y chromosomes.
why go alone into the unknown of being free of this privilege of denying pain that preexists and jump into the abyss?
Deal with it: that suffering and pain the venom leaves inside you
Blood let till what remains is what feeds inside you.
Still grasping for panic
You wanted this, then have it.
To honor this,
'pon it bring automatic ravage to all the manic addicts, addicted to venom.
Christened by the bickering that beckons the coming...

His is the unwhole way
Taught that weakness shows your love!
Learn manhood from the father that talks with clinched fist often, and walks relentless over the one that bore these helpless offspring.
Her limb languishes tragic.
brought to forget who she was!
A womb bearer that would soon fear her own partner is a wound wearer that would soon impair her own daughter.
Both are utter subjects to the power order we scorn!
All of us slaves to a condition of tradition supported by cash commission and addiction for subordination.
Patriarchy is the coordination of hatred.
Vomit it up.
Just let it fall!
On top the churches.
On top the nations.
On top the weapons.
On top the mission.

Free all the children.
Arm us with knowledge.
Free all the prisoners.
Arm us with rifles.
Free all the verses.
Arm us with passion.
Free all the willing.
Bring down Babylon.

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