"The marriage of two derogatory terms, fag and hag, symbolis[es] the union of the world’s most popular objects of scorn, homosexuals and woman, creat[ing] a moniker that most of those who wear it find inoffensive, possibly because it smacks of solidarity." - Margaret Cho
I've posted this quote before, but I think it's worth re-visiting. I'm working on/just starting a paper with that as my jumping point. Here's hoping there are enough sources. I think I might do something about feminism in Nathaniel Hawthorne's work; we discussed it today in class. It's amazing to me now (after a lecture that partially focused on this, specifically in The Scarlett Letter) that this particular aspect of his writing wasn't discusses when we read it in high school. In fact, I recall very little being taught about women's issues in high school. I suppose it's much to radical a topic for young teenage minds-- or maybe I wasn't a willing receptacle? I will give them the benefit of a doubt.
Yesterday was the Florence Pride Picnic; it was very nice. I thought I would know more people there, but there were really more people from the older community. Father's Day probably wasn't the best Sunday to plan a picnic, either.
Oh, I forgot to mention that I was the accidental feminist the other day; Jeff and I spent the night at my parents' house last week, and I couldn't find a bra to save my life, so... yeah. It was kinda fun, though. I crossed my arms for the first hour of the day or so before the f-it switch was flipped and I was transported to the radicals who began the movement.
I've posted this quote before, but I think it's worth re-visiting. I'm working on/just starting a paper with that as my jumping point. Here's hoping there are enough sources. I think I might do something about feminism in Nathaniel Hawthorne's work; we discussed it today in class. It's amazing to me now (after a lecture that partially focused on this, specifically in The Scarlett Letter) that this particular aspect of his writing wasn't discusses when we read it in high school. In fact, I recall very little being taught about women's issues in high school. I suppose it's much to radical a topic for young teenage minds-- or maybe I wasn't a willing receptacle? I will give them the benefit of a doubt.
Yesterday was the Florence Pride Picnic; it was very nice. I thought I would know more people there, but there were really more people from the older community. Father's Day probably wasn't the best Sunday to plan a picnic, either.
Oh, I forgot to mention that I was the accidental feminist the other day; Jeff and I spent the night at my parents' house last week, and I couldn't find a bra to save my life, so... yeah. It was kinda fun, though. I crossed my arms for the first hour of the day or so before the f-it switch was flipped and I was transported to the radicals who began the movement.
* * *
Those were the days when the Earth was flat, and tourists flocked to the edges with their polaroid cameras and their loud children and their SUVs. And some came to cry, because it was beautiful. And some came to scoff, because nothing impresses some people. And some came to jump, becasue the edge of the world played the same song as the San Fransisco Bridge, if there had been a San Fransisco Bridge. If there had been a San Fransisco...
And Cam came to scoff, her and a van of silver-spoon misfits; instead she cried, and she didn't try to jump, but she almost fell-- different means to the same end, she thought, as the guard pulled her from the fence.
And Cam came to scoff, her and a van of silver-spoon misfits; instead she cried, and she didn't try to jump, but she almost fell-- different means to the same end, she thought, as the guard pulled her from the fence.
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