What woman here is so enamored of her own oppression that she cannot see her heel print upon another woman's face?

Somedays, if bitterness were a whetstone, I could be sharp as grief.

But in a crunch, when all our asses are in the sling, it looks like it is easier to deal with the samenesses. When we deal with sameness only, we develop weapons that we use against each other when the differences become apparent. And we wipe each other out - Black men and women can wipe each other out - far more effectively than outsiders do.

For women, then, poetry is not a luxury. It is a vital necessity of our existence.

If our history has taught us anything, it is that action for change directed against the external conditions of our oppressions is not enough.

The master's tools will never dismantle the master's house.

The erotic has often been misnamed by men and used against women. It has been made into the confused, the trivial, the psychotic, the plasticized sensation.