Hatred is a death wish for the hated, not a life wish for anything else.

But the true feminist deals out of a lesbian consciousness whether or not she ever sleeps with women.

If you come as softly As wind within the trees You may hear what I hear See what sorrow sees. If you come as lightly As threading dew I will take you gladly Nor ask more of you. You may sit beside me Silent as a breath Only those who stay dead Shall remember death. And if you come I will be silent Nor speak harsh words to you. I will not ask you why, now. Or how, or what you do. We shall sit here, softly Beneath two different years And the rich earth between us Shall drink our tears.

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

As a Black lesbian feminist comfortable with the many different ingredients of my identity, and a woman committed to racial and sexual freedom from oppression, 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. But this is a destructive and fragmenting way to live.

The love expressed between women is particular and powerful because we have had to love in order to live; love has been our survival.

Because the machine will try to grind you into dust anyway, whether or not we speak.