I find I am constantly being encouraged to pluck out some one aspect of myself and present this as the meaningful whole, eclipsing or denying the other parts of self.
There is no Hierarchy of Oppressions
... it is not difference which immobilizes us, but silence.
There are no honest poems about dead women.
Somedays, if bitterness were a whetstone, I could be sharp as grief.
We tend to think of the erotic as an easy, tantalizing sexual arousal. I speak of the erotic as the deepest life force, a force which moves us toward living in a fundamental way.