Toda luna. Todo año. Todo día. Todo viento. Camina y pasa también. También toda sangre llega al lugar de su quietud.
Early in her career as a women’s rights leader, Susan B. Anthony concluded that the ballot contained the real secret of women’s emancipation, and that sexism itself was far more oppressive than class inequality and racism. In Anthony’s eyes, ‘(T)he most odious oligarchy ever established on the face of the globe’ was the rule of men over women.Anthony’s staunchly feminist position was also a staunch reflection of bourgeois ideology. And it was probably becaues of the ideology’s blinding powers that she failed to realized that working-class women and Black women alike were fundamentally linked to their men by class exploitation and racist oppression which did not discriminate between the sexes. While their men’s sexist behavior definitely needed to be challenged, the real enemy - their common enemy - was the boss, the capitalist, or whoever was responsible for the miserable wages and unbearable working conditions and for racist and sexist discrimination on the job.An oligarchy of wealth, where the rich govern the poor; an oligarchy of learning, where the educated govern the ignorant; or even an oligarchy of race, where the Saxon rules the African, might be endured; but this oligarchy of sex which makes father, brothers, husbands, sons, the oligarchs over the mother and sisters, the wife and daughters of every household; which ordains all men sovereigns, all women subjects - carries discord and rebellion into every home of the nation.
- Hay tres cosas que saben a derrota –me dijo mi amigo en el interior del campo improvisado en el estadio de Slavonski Brod, donde fueron encerrados más de tres mil croatas y musulmanes que, empujados por una fuerza invisible, habían buscado refugio en el estado vecino, Croacia–: son el hambre, la sed y la vergüenza. Nos darán comida y agua –continuó Greba, mientras nos uníamos a una larga fila de personas rotas y agotadas ante el camión de Cruz Roja que distribuía raciones del ejército americano–, pero me temo que la vergüenza nos sobrevivirá.Cuando escuché aquellas palabras, me aparté de la cola y permanecí largo tiempo bajo el abrasador sol de julio.Algo amargo y salado me corría por el rostro. Me consuelo diciéndome que no era más que el sudor. Al menos, eso me atrevo a esperar.
Campamento de Slavonksi Brod, Croacia, julio de 1992
in the cane fields.
above the cane fields.
beneath the cane fields.
that flows from us.
I am not superwoman. My mother is not superwoman. My mother’s mother is not superwoman. I am, we are, soft. Can shatter. Crumble in your hands. Our survival does not mean we prosper. We are like other women but unlike them. So do not tell us we can handle anything. We only seem like superwoman, a figment of your imagination, because you have forced our lives to be perpetual labor with only seconds of relief. If we carry the world on our shoulders and the children on our backs, what are we but your glorified mules slapped with guilt praises of perseverance and strength. Our bones and our blood and our sweat have built the wealth of nations. Our burial should not be the first time we rest.
We have a natural tendency to assume that a remarkable chemistry between two souls is confirmation that they are meant to be together. In the heat of profound feelings, it seems counter-intuitive to imagine ourselves separate from our beloved. But chemistry and longevity are not natural bedfellows. Just because we feel earth-shatteringly alive with someone doesn’t mean they are supposed to be our …life partner. They may have come for a very different reason - to awaken us, to expand us, to shatter us so wide open that we can never close again. Perhaps they were sent from afar to polish the rough diamond of your soul before vanishing into eternity. Perhaps they just came to give you new eyes. Better we surrender our expectations when the beloved comes. They may just be dropping in for a visit.