Monday
Sep072020
Rearranging the patterns of life
I was just wondering if you would like to be
The last color on Earth ever to be discovered?
Together we are all over this thing
A threat to the horizon
A mutual recognition
I don't know why it took so long to categorize
And I don't want to put you in a box
- Okay Kaya
I have always been a clenched fist. My entire life. Until now.
An unraveling.
I stood in my shower holding what once was loofah. Tiny bubbles, soapy water like lace sluicing delicately down summer-tanned thighs into the fresh razor cut on my knee. Clumsy, mind elsewhere. Thinking about Her while shaving my pussy. Blooming bloodwater. Beautiful like art. A bloody, sexualized Rorschach dripping down the curve of my calf. Loofah unraveled in my hands, trailing into the bloodwater. A long purple ribbon. Unclenched, finally.
A sigh. An exhalation. A heaving. Release.
I always tried to live within the parameters set forth by...by...by WHOM? That is question one. By a patriarchal all-knowing Santa Clausian god forever threatening to withhold heavenly gifts from naughty children? By man en masse? By a Mormon culture hellbent on hellfire? A family descended from the libidinous loins of Joseph Smith himself? I tried so hard for so long and felt outsider. Always. Girl on the fringe. The not good enough girl. The bad girl. The unMormon.
Mom I like women/Why are you telling me this when you know I hate it?
Then you hate me, who I am. Hate the sin not the sinner, they say, but the sin is yours. Not mine. Your construct. I reject your words and definitions and glory in being the girl on the fringe because within the edges I am discovering the center of the universe/there is no center.
We’ve been brought up in a cultural context in which the universe is presided over by someone serious. A society that pretends to revere democracy simultaneously prostrates itself before the almighty king in adoration and worship. In God We Trust/Fuck the intimidating idea of him wielded like a weapon to batter young hearts and minds into submission with fear and guilt and if it's your first instinct to cluck tongue at the notion of a middle finger shaken gleefully at an alleged almighty you best turn your focus inward, tongueclucker, because you are caught in the trap.
Why so serious? Dance with the universe! Do not fear it. Or an alleged Him. Or all of the hims.
I always thought I had to harden myself to love in order to survive it. To suppress the vulnerable parts of me in order to compete with men at a game they created.
I was wrong.
It is from the softness of woman that everything is born.
The last color on Earth ever to be discovered?
Together we are all over this thing
A threat to the horizon
A mutual recognition
I don't know why it took so long to categorize
And I don't want to put you in a box
- Okay Kaya
I have always been a clenched fist. My entire life. Until now.
An unraveling.
I stood in my shower holding what once was loofah. Tiny bubbles, soapy water like lace sluicing delicately down summer-tanned thighs into the fresh razor cut on my knee. Clumsy, mind elsewhere. Thinking about Her while shaving my pussy. Blooming bloodwater. Beautiful like art. A bloody, sexualized Rorschach dripping down the curve of my calf. Loofah unraveled in my hands, trailing into the bloodwater. A long purple ribbon. Unclenched, finally.
A sigh. An exhalation. A heaving. Release.
I always tried to live within the parameters set forth by...by...by WHOM? That is question one. By a patriarchal all-knowing Santa Clausian god forever threatening to withhold heavenly gifts from naughty children? By man en masse? By a Mormon culture hellbent on hellfire? A family descended from the libidinous loins of Joseph Smith himself? I tried so hard for so long and felt outsider. Always. Girl on the fringe. The not good enough girl. The bad girl. The unMormon.
Mom I like women/Why are you telling me this when you know I hate it?
Then you hate me, who I am. Hate the sin not the sinner, they say, but the sin is yours. Not mine. Your construct. I reject your words and definitions and glory in being the girl on the fringe because within the edges I am discovering the center of the universe/there is no center.
We’ve been brought up in a cultural context in which the universe is presided over by someone serious. A society that pretends to revere democracy simultaneously prostrates itself before the almighty king in adoration and worship. In God We Trust/Fuck the intimidating idea of him wielded like a weapon to batter young hearts and minds into submission with fear and guilt and if it's your first instinct to cluck tongue at the notion of a middle finger shaken gleefully at an alleged almighty you best turn your focus inward, tongueclucker, because you are caught in the trap.
Why so serious? Dance with the universe! Do not fear it. Or an alleged Him. Or all of the hims.
I always thought I had to harden myself to love in order to survive it. To suppress the vulnerable parts of me in order to compete with men at a game they created.
I was wrong.
It is from the softness of woman that everything is born.
Sep 7, 2020 | Comments Off