Andrea Gibson, Lord of the Butterflies
Giuseppe Pennasilico (detail)
I had a vision
Genuinely, what happened to “feminism is for everyone”?
That’s the feminism I grew up with: encouraging people to recognize that fighting sexism and restrictive gender roles helps folks of every gender. We’d push back on the idea that feminists hate men, pointing to inclusive feminist literature and how many men are feminists.
Now, there are so many people insisting that the solution to patriarchy is to openly hate and ostracize men no matter what. Why? What is the benefit? It’s certainly not effective in fighting oppressive structures to exclude half the population from your cause on the basis of immutable traits. It may feel cathartic to say horrible things about men and try to punish them for your frustrations with patriarchy. But the only actual effect I see is the increasing right-wing radicalization of young men, who are being told that the left hates them for the way they were born and presented with an abundance of proof that it’s true.
Why are we going back to treating men and women as different species? It doesn’t fix things to say “well women are the good gender and men are the bad one” this time. If you sincerely want to dismantle sexism, you’re going to have to unpack and let go of all sex and gender essentialism—even that which considers women inherently pure and men inherently immoral.
E. Hughes, from "My Mother at Twenty-One"
I have a beautiful friend. Half a year younger than me, with almond eyes and skin maybe two to three shades darker than caramel. Dusty sunset. It reminds me of spices and the billowing fumes of a barista coffee machine.
She has Columbian heritage, with glossy, thick black hair and long eye lashes. Dark eyes, bright teeth. She laughs big, smiles wide. The slight figure of a doe. She gets excited about everything. She's naive. She's adorable. She wants to explore.
She's beautiful, everyone tells her. She's terrified.
My friend sees the eyes. Of course she does. They're not admiring. They're predatory. She wears who she is on her sleeve, and she's a wondering, easily amazed person. She wants to be happy. Oh, have you ever heard of a better rape victim.
She wants to kiss someone. She wants to be in a relationship, with cuddles and pinky finger promises. She wants to be desired.
We smile. We watch her drink. We make sure she gets home afterwards.
Beauty is a lot of things. But I'd wager to say that no matter if you've carefully cultivated it yourself, were born into it, want it, use it, hate it, are aware of it
Broken down, all social veneers and descriptors stripped away,
It attracts attention.
Oh, Silvia Plath was right.
LOOK INTO MY EYES AND TELL ME THIS ISNT SPOCK CODED I DARE YOU
via @/_weloveyou__ on tiktok
Carved this small gallery after filling the shell with resin first, to try and make smaller windows (so it won't break).
(She/her) Hullo! I post poetry. Sometimes. sometimes I just break bottles and suddenly there are letters @antagonistic-sunsetgirl for non-poetry
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