Monday, December 14, 2009
Sometimes I tire of writing feminist criticism of the world. Such a lonely job it is, a job full of hidden dangers and much openly expressed anger, a job most unsuitable of who I am, Sometimes I want to wrap my hair around me and disappear. Let others carry the unlit torch for a mile or two. That is how most women seem to view the question of their own liberation, after all.
I call these thoughts violet thoughts. They are almost violent thoughts but not quite, and they write themselves in purple ink. For instance, my hair is roughly two inches long so it would be very hard to do any wrapping with it and I'm not exactly the only feminist on this earth. But still. The job is hard, the pay is nonexistent and the results at most iffy. It would be so very lovely to write something everybody loves to read! To cheer people up when they come here!
In my next life, perhaps. And under some brawny sounding male pseudonym.