Looking back on my posts so far, I realise I have written a lot about how liberal feminists are failing other women, and relatively little about the root cause of the miserable state the planet is in: Men. Continue reading
Quick note: This is written mainly for Lesbians, from a Lesbian Radical Feminist viewpoint. This piece should also be read after the two last posts:
These posts clarify my personal experience with the question of motherhood and sum up my thoughts on hetero sex, which will not be a part of this piece here. Continue reading
First of all, I have not forgotten that I owe you a post on motherhood as a follow-up to the ‘Lesbians and Children’ post. This piece here started out as a part of it, but then developed a life on its own. When thinking about motherhood, it was inevitable to think about hetero sex, and while it would be much better for my peace of mind to ignore the topic on grounds of Lesbianism as I usually do, in this case I can’t. Continue reading
Children to me personally are a non-issue. I never wanted them, and since I have a distinctly younger sibling who was a baby and a toddler in my teenage years, I know very well what it really means to have children. The beauty-of-motherhood propaganda is wasted on me. Continue reading
I’m grateful for this piece of twaddle Rob Stephenson, “Associate Professor of Global Health at Emory University and an expert in HIV and sexual behavior among gay men” recently published on Huffpost:
It gives me the opportunity to spell out my thoughts about the nonsensical assumption that there possibly could be sexism against men and why the concept of ‘equality’ is an empty scheme. Continue reading
When I talk to “sex positives”, leftists or liberals, I often get told my Radical Feminist opinions about sexuality to them sound like conservativism of the worst kind. This certainly has nothing to do with me as a person, because it is far from new: This accusation has been hurled at Radical Feminists ever since Radical Feminism came into being. Continue reading
When I talk like we did back home, I am “blunt”.
When I talk like it’s proper for women in academia, I’m “thoughtful”.
Meek social climber.
When I talk like it’s proper for men in academia, I’m “competitive”.
When I talk from my woman’s heart, I’m “enthusiastic”.
Reading around in the Radical Feminist blogosphere, I often come across posts claiming women cannot oppress other women. Continue reading
You get married
And I hurt over
Our light-filled past
Together we grew out of the spongy dark forest
Moss around our feet
Fern around our hips
Berries in our mouths
And our heads like the shoots of firs and beeches
We could have flown on the mountain top wind
And we did, running down rocky slopes
You read mythology and I wrote stories
Sylt Croatia England Scotland France at home
We ironed tea towels and laid the table among the girls
Talking about atoms and birds and Betelgeuse
Building lake dwellings in our minds
And we did
Build pots with raw clay and old ashes we found at the creek.
There was no use for teachers in trying to figure out
Which one of us had written the essay for class and which one had copied from the other
When we claimed we’d written it together
Do you remember how we wrote about the Nibelungs
And quarrelled about who was the true villain?
Do you remember anything at all? And if you do, is there worth to it, or do you remember it faintly, squeezing your chocolate eyes in effort, not even a story of heroic youth, but a pale “Now, that you are saying it”?
There was no point in asking which one of us had written any given essay
It didn’t matter, because we could have done it both
And often did
Your brown limbs in the bog water
Of our vanishing lake in the forest
Your brown hair trailing behind you
When you swam
The hair I plaited for you before gym class began
Smelling your skin of vanilla and earth
That’s not for me anymore,
And I shouldn’t hurt
Because you have left me long ago
For groups and parties and excellence
And I shouldn’t hurt
Because I have no right to
“You are not a school girl!”
“You are not a husband!”
I am a woman
Who was your best friend once
Debris of the past
I will stand in the back of the church
Between two strangers
You will hold flowers without smell
Vow to a god that isn’t there
And I will remember how your mother told me the story at your breakfast table
How she almost said no at her wedding to your father
Because the priest dared to mention Paul
Actually letting her feel the shackles
But you will say yes without hesitation
And then you will leave.