24/02 & 23/06
Last summer I read I love Dick by Chris Kraus and I asked my ex-boyfriend if I was less of a feminist because we were in a monogamous heterosexual relationship and he said no of course not, but I did not trust him for he was still a product of the patriarchy and so am I so maybe the patriarchy just wants me to question my feminism while still wearing not a lot of clothes and pole dancing do you think the patriarchy knows? Do you think they giggle when they hear that women are taking up poledancingclasses “because empowerment” and that they laugh and be happy when we buy lingerie and spent all our money on make-up and clothes because I spend really a lot of money on make up my mom is really against the idea of taking up a hobby that is according to her inherent sexist because it was designed for the sexualization of women for men and why would I want to participate on that I didn’t want to put the pole in my bedroom because my ex-boyfriend kept on having these Fantasies out loud where he would walk in and I would be graciously hanging around the ultimate phallistic symbol and it pisses me off it pisses me off so badly it’s just a sport with a connotation but still a sport Taylor swift said that I can still like glitter and be in favor of equal rights and that I can wear pink if I want to
A week before we broke up, he made a reservation for two at the restaurant Amour. I drove to another restaurant by accident (?), Amigo. He only realized when he got the check.
I was so tired of us, of myself. He only heard the last one. Told me everything was going to be okay, and that he would take care of me.
Have you ever felt so paradoxal that you could literally see yourself living two completely different lives?
After the lunch and our talk, I drove home, dramatically crying, while the streets were grey, and it was pouring. After the fourth turn the light of my gas tank went on, to tell me it was almost out of fuel, and all I could think was: same.
Friedle says feminism cannot be a blueprint of your life. It can help you; it can teach you, but it won’t tell you how to live your life.
So, if a man can’t, and feminism can’t; then who can?
Because I can’t. I can’t even tell if I wear make-up and pink because I want to, or because I feel more desired. My mom told me that I always picked out the brightest pink clothes as a kid, and that she hated it. I ordered recently two pink crop tops and a pink mini skirt, and I asked her quite rhetorically “who would wear this?” And she answered me with a sigh “sex workers, Anaïs”
Last summer I read I love Dick by Chris Kraus and I asked my ex-boyfriend if I was less of a feminist because we were in a monogamous heterosexual relationship and he said no of course not, but I did not trust him for he was still a product of the patriarchy and so am I so maybe the patriarchy just wants me to question my feminism while still wearing not a lot of clothes and pole dancing do you think the patriarchy knows? Do you think they giggle when they hear that women are taking up poledancingclasses “because empowerment” and that they laugh and be happy when we buy lingerie and spent all our money on make-up and clothes because I spend really a lot of money on make up my mom is really against the idea of taking up a hobby that is according to her inherent sexist because it was designed for the sexualization of women for men and why would I want to participate on that I didn’t want to put the pole in my bedroom because my ex-boyfriend kept on having these Fantasies out loud where he would walk in and I would be graciously hanging around the ultimate phallistic symbol and it pisses me off it pisses me off so badly it’s just a sport with a connotation but still a sport Taylor swift said that I can still like glitter and be in favor of equal rights and that I can wear pink if I want to
A week before we broke up, he made a reservation for two at the restaurant Amour. I drove to another restaurant by accident (?), Amigo. He only realized when he got the check.
I was so tired of us, of myself. He only heard the last one. Told me everything was going to be okay, and that he would take care of me.
Have you ever felt so paradoxal that you could literally see yourself living two completely different lives?
After the lunch and our talk, I drove home, dramatically crying, while the streets were grey, and it was pouring. After the fourth turn the light of my gas tank went on, to tell me it was almost out of fuel, and all I could think was: same.
Friedle says feminism cannot be a blueprint of your life. It can help you; it can teach you, but it won’t tell you how to live your life.
So, if a man can’t, and feminism can’t; then who can?
Because I can’t. I can’t even tell if I wear make-up and pink because I want to, or because I feel more desired. My mom told me that I always picked out the brightest pink clothes as a kid, and that she hated it. I ordered recently two pink crop tops and a pink mini skirt, and I asked her quite rhetorically “who would wear this?” And she answered me with a sigh “sex workers, Anaïs”
14/06
Life is hard for a young white millennial girl. Between fighting the patriarchy, deconstructing my privileges, and performing my gender, I also need to provide my own capitalist lifestyle, present artworks, and raise a man … child.
It’s like when you dropped your phone, and you take a moment before you check if the screen is broken. I feel like that all the time.”
I am so bored.
Life is hard for a young white millennial girl. Between fighting the patriarchy, deconstructing my privileges, and performing my gender, I also need to provide my own capitalist lifestyle, present artworks, and raise a man … child.
It’s like when you dropped your phone, and you take a moment before you check if the screen is broken. I feel like that all the time.”
I am so bored.
TRIGGER WARNING: SEXUAL ASSAULT
22/07
Sometimes when I think of things that enrage me, mostly things men have said and done to me, but I can’t express it, I see myself in a thought smashing and trashing a room. It’s me in my seventy’s jeans and a green blouse, my hair up, and I’m hysterically crying and trashing everything with a baseball bat. That thought comforts me, that I can snap. That can flash, that I can trash things. I think about it often when I’m in someone’s arms. I feel the rage and excitement coming up, but I can’t go anywhere. Why does the so-called safety of a lover’s arms make me want to trash a room? Why does is want to make me cry and yell with mascara running down from my eyes and my face all red and swollen. Why do I feel so hopeless until I feel I can trash a place? Why do I want that so badly?
I can’t stand loud noises.
Sometimes when I think of things that enrage me, mostly things men have said and done to me, but I can’t express it, I see myself in a thought smashing and trashing a room. It’s me in my seventy’s jeans and a green blouse, my hair up, and I’m hysterically crying and trashing everything with a baseball bat. That thought comforts me, that I can snap. That can flash, that I can trash things. I think about it often when I’m in someone’s arms. I feel the rage and excitement coming up, but I can’t go anywhere. Why does the so-called safety of a lover’s arms make me want to trash a room? Why does is want to make me cry and yell with mascara running down from my eyes and my face all red and swollen. Why do I feel so hopeless until I feel I can trash a place? Why do I want that so badly?
I can’t stand loud noises.
27/07
“What’s the worst thing that has ever happened to you? What pops into your mind first?”
He asked on the third date.
I was driving my car, and in a split second I thought of all the stupid things I could tell, but because I really liked him, I wanted to sincerely answer his question. So, I told him the story of the worst thing that has ever happened to me: when I was 17, I was date-raped
As I start talking, I can feel his body mass sink deeper and deeper into the car seat.
His silence makes me want to talk more, and I keep on telling every detail, until I can’t think of any left.
When I’m done, I ask him
“What do you think of it?”
He answers: “Well I don’t know, it’s kind of a fucked-up story.”
…
And I look into his beautiful brown eyes, and the thickest eyelashes I’ve ever seen, and all I could think is
men are trash.
“What’s the worst thing that has ever happened to you? What pops into your mind first?”
He asked on the third date.
I was driving my car, and in a split second I thought of all the stupid things I could tell, but because I really liked him, I wanted to sincerely answer his question. So, I told him the story of the worst thing that has ever happened to me: when I was 17, I was date-raped
As I start talking, I can feel his body mass sink deeper and deeper into the car seat.
His silence makes me want to talk more, and I keep on telling every detail, until I can’t think of any left.
When I’m done, I ask him
“What do you think of it?”
He answers: “Well I don’t know, it’s kind of a fucked-up story.”
…
And I look into his beautiful brown eyes, and the thickest eyelashes I’ve ever seen, and all I could think is
men are trash.