That’s Literally Why She’s So Me

when florence welch said “and everything i ever did was just another way to scream your name” and when mitski said “if you would let me give you pinky promise kisses then i wouldn’t have to scream your name atop of every roof in the city of my heart” and when taylor swift said “and i still talk to you when i’m screaming at the sky” and when phoebe bridgers said “there are no words in the english language i could scream to drown you out” and when oh pep said “heard you were yelling before you could talk” and when

No two women have the same experience. All feminism is founded not on actual essential unity, but on political coalition and affirmation of shared political needs and goals.

Race, culture, class, birth assignment, religion, and countless other factors mean all women experience womanhood differently. Excluding trans women because we have a different life experience misses the point that all women have different life experiences. This idea isn’t even new, its not even specific to trans women, its literally the point Crenshaw and Collins and Mohanty and countless other woc and third world feminists have been making for decades now.

“Godhood is just like girlhood: a begging to be believed.” — Kristin Chang

“I was a girl gulping a woman’s grief.” — Melissa Febos

“If I could do girlhood again, I’d ask to be scarier. Less whimpering—more pyromaniac urges, more flirting with kerosene.” — Sally Wen Mao

“to live past the end of your myth is a perilous thing”

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“I held my grief like two limp tulips. What am I allowed to have? I’m still here. I’m still hers. I’m still a body licked by stars.”

— “Departure” by Erika L. Sánchez (via decreation)

terukie-deactivated20190831 / denice frohman / lang leav / agnes varda / bikini kill / no doubt / jasmin kaur / nikia gill

  The Madwoman in the Attic: The Woman Writer and the Nineteenth-Century Literary Imagination, Sandra Gilbert and Susan Gubar

oh how the horror of existence eats away at my heart but look how i cling on to the simplest acts of compassion, kind gestures, easy natural connections. bitter as i am i can't help looking at the world as if it's handmade just for me. i love loving, i love loving people. i love a soft love. no drama. no loudness. no doors being slammed. a silent love. steeped into the heart like a strong tea. jasmine scented. a love nurtured and moulded delicately with sturdy hands on a potter's wheel. a love made with love. a love to live for. a love that makes you want to stay alive, for tiny birds and the sky, for the ocean and the charcoal night. dying is no feat, we die all the time. if you are a lover, you must do the unthinkable, you must live. for you will be remembered and you will be immortalized in every bit of beauty that ever graces this earth.

“How as a girl, in cut-off jeans and a skimpy string-bikini top, I lay in the back of a pick-up truck, the better to bronze my young, bare flesh. How I wanted to scorch myself, then; how I wanted to burn my beauty onto the very eye of love. How lovely, the way we wreck ourselves on the world; how we shine in it, too.”

— Cecilia Woloch, ‘Girl in a Truck, Kentucky Highway 245’, in Narcissus (via antigonies)