feminism

We don__ have no say, __ause we was an afterthought. He yanked us up out o_ man__ ribs, but He made man out the Earth. He made him out the dirt and the mud and made him out the world, so man is the world. Women_women just a part o_ men._ Elaine snubbed the cigarette out, tapped the dark leather case on the edge of the table and I watched as another slim, white stick slid free.

I didn't appear to need anyone: I could do it all myself. I could do everything. I was both halves: did that mean I was whole?

Nothing has topped the way men shake her hand and look her in the eye, what it__ like to call a man chickenshit to his face and get away with it, to mean it, to feel free and dominant and in control of your life.

Behind us are two or three dozen country people from the outlying towns. With them are cages of chicken and goats, sheep, even cattle. That__ where we fit on market day. Between the executions and the livestock sales.

..the women's movement never left the father Dick's side....We got a share of genocide profits and we love it...If we're Dick's sister and want what he has gotten, then in the end we support that system that he got it all from.

It is not your job to convince men to like you.

Whom to marry, and when will it happen__hese two questions define every woman__ existence, regardless of where she was raised or what religion she does or doesn__ practice. She may grow up to love women instead of men, or to decide she simply doesn__ believe in marriage. No matter. These dual contingencies govern her until they__e answered, even if the answers are nobody and never.

I stand in my own power now, the questions of permission that I used to choke on for my every meal now dead in a fallen heap, and when they tell me that I will fall, I nod. I will fall, I reply, and my words are a whispermy words are a howlI will fall , I say, and the tumbling will be all my own. The skinned palms and oozing knees are holy wounds, stigmata of my She. I will catch my own spilled blood, and not a drop will be wasted.

All her young life she has tried to please her father, never quite realizing that, as a girl, she never could.

Lucy could see that love unconfined, love outside convention, might well make a woman an unfit mother; you were one kind of woman or another: you were good or you were bad, as the world saw it, and no stations in between. They allowed you to choose; you could be the maternal or the erotic, but not a bit of both. The latter made you forget the former. Men married the maternal and then longed for the erotic. Or they married the erotic by mistake, and set about making it into the maternal, and then were just as disappointed.

The object, the woman, goes out into the world formed as men have formed her to be used as men wish to use her. She is then a provocation. The object provokes its use. It provokes its usebecause of its form, determined by the one who is provoked. The carpenter makes a chair, sits on it, then blames the chair because heis not standing. When the object complains about the use to which she is put, she is told, simply and firmly, not to provoke.

The lipstick is a dark, dark red. The kind Hollywood stars wear. Not a shade good girls in Davisburg wear to the movies. I try it on anyway and gaze at my reflection in the mirror.I don't look sick. I certainly don't look like that kind of girl.What does that kind of girl look like, anyway?

When I was at home with papa, he told me his opinion about everything, and so I had the same opinions; and if I differed from him I concealed the fact, because he would not have liked it. He called me his doll-child, and he played with me just as I used to play with my dolls.

It is an extravagant gesture,' she said, turning to the torpedo, 'which is just the sort of gesture I like.

Dear Men Everywhere,Please don't think that being a feminist means we hate you or don't need you. -We absolutely love you and couldn't live without you! ...We are just on a mission to be treated equally and with respect. No hard feelings. With love, Feminists of the World xoxoox P.S. Yes we do shave our legs!

That she was now more tired and forgetful, while able to do three times what she had been able to do when she was somewhat less tired and forgetful but also stressed, guilty, grouchy, and overwhelmed, seemed a small price to pay.

Actually he looks like a nice young man, and perhaps can't be blamed for his crass conception of women since all men think that way. I've met only one who appreciated me as a human being and even he didn't really.

Because the pure girls get rescued." Mary Lou felt something she didn't let herself feel often. She was well and truly pissed off. "Why do girls have to be all pure and innocent and good? Why don't guys have to be?