I’ve been thinking about the value of women for a while now, and more recently my own value as well. Nearly forty and female, single mother for half these years, struggling through poverty, struggling through domestic violence, and violent degrading rapes, struggling through female-related health problems. Continuing to create anyway, even the little things, like each new day. Apparently still fuckable, still desirable, still gropable, for now, or until my struggles are known, or until my struggle for all women is known (that does require accountability=instantly unattractive).
Nearly forty as a woman in this ball park equates to little or no worth in our society, and so do many other factors: not-being-within-the-beauty-standard, colour of skin, disability, rejection of femininity, rejection of male sexuality, having been prostituted for and by men, and god forbid we keep aging.
So little is our value already, as second class citizens in a world governed by male laws…
View original post 1,201 more words