I think I know a thing or two about feminism; human suffering & social change, and then I see authenticity among the simplicity and I wonder if I feel these feminist triggers not laid to rest, but understood & real.
My reaction to this photo remains inconclusive, however the power of its beauty and intrigue is undeniable; I deprive myself of beauty possibly because the world is ugly and mad, and then when there are those beautiful… moments, I pause; I do not mind thinking on feminism if “feminism” is where my mind lingers… all because I can’t recall the term from debate which describes the phenomena of words like “feminism” not having a continuous meaning.
Despite the aforementioned flaws to an “ism” like the word I’ve said so many times, that as a writer I have grown weary of hearing it.
As a human I grow weary of not feeling it, and I mean more so that I find it strange and upsetting that there isn’t enough solidarity among women, that one hungers for it…
Not to worry. I have seen the future and neuroses like “overhearing” the word “feminism” will not prevent… well to be honest it does drive me nuts to hear the same sound repeatedly. I do not have any working synonyms. “Witchcraft” comes to mind.