Right Wing Women
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Despite all the happy talk of the total women, there is a fierce anxiety there: if men did not need babies, and women to have them, these bright wives would be shivering on street corners like the other fast fucks. Her womb is her wealth; her use in childbearing is his strongest tie to her; she holds his [sic] children, actual and potential, hostage, for her own sake.
Wives were the majority, whores the minority, prostitution the condition of each, rape the underbelly of prostitution.
Yüksek Anlam :
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Norman Mailer, altmışlı yıllarda cinsel devrimle ilgili sorunun yanlış insanların eline geçmesi olduğunu belirtti.
Haklıydı. Erkeklerin elindeydi.
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"Sağ Kanat Kadınlar"
In general, the euphemisms of religion and romantic love keep women from ever recognizing the farming model as having to do directly and personally with them. Modern women do not think of themselves as cows, nor as land that the man seeds; but maleheaded marriage incorporates both these vivid traditions of female definition; and the laws have been built on these same images and ideas of what women are for; and the real history of women has had as its center the actual use of women as cows and as land. The way women are treated, valued, and used has remarkably little in common with how women perceive themselves. The legend says that vampires cannot see themselves in mirrors, but in this case the vampires’ victims cannot see themselves: what would stare back— the cow, the land, the uterus, the crop, the plowing, the planting, the harvest, being put out to pasture, going dry—would annihilate the delusion of individuality that keeps most women going. The laws that made women chattel derived from an analogy between women and cows that hundreds of centuries of men found apt, and the sexual slur was apparently a neutral observation infused with the spleen of the moment—she’s a cow. The idea that the male plants and the woman is planted in originates in antiquity, and Marcuse among others has reiterated the idea that woman is the land in more modern times. The farming model is not discussed as such, even among feminists. It too clearly reveals the hopeless impersonality, degradation, and futility implicit in women’s subordinate position.
In the brothel model, the woman is acknowledged to be for sex without reference to reproduction. She will still have babies perhaps, but no one owes her anything: not the father, not the state, not the pimp, not the john, no one. Some women on the Left accept the male leftist view that this is a giant step for womankind: that this separation of
Women are brought up to conform: all the rules of femininity—dress, behavior, attitude—essentially break the spirit. Women are trained to need men, not sexually but metaphysically. Women are brought up to be the void that needs filling, the absence that needs presence. Women are brought up to fear men and to know that they must please men and to
“Kadın, zekâsını kullanmanın daha kibar yollarını bulmaya çalışacaktır. Ama zekâ hanım işi değildir. Zekâ aşırılıklarla doludur. Keskin zekâ duygusallıktan tiksinir, ve kadınlar, etraflarındaki erkeklerin dehşetli aptallığına kıymet vermek için duygusal olmak zorundadır. Marazi zekâ, pozitif düşüncenin ve ebedi tatlılığın neşeli günışığından tiksinir; ve kadınlar günışığı ve neşeli ve tatlı olmak zorundadır, aksi halde kadının, rüşvet verir gibi gülücükler dağıtarak günün sonunu getirmesi mümkün olmaz. Yabani zekâ her türlü dar dünyadan tiksinir; ve kadınların dünyası dar kalmalıdır, aksi halde kadın sınır ihlal etmiş olur. Hiçbir kadın, sonunda kendini genelevde veya lobotomi yapılmış bulmaksızın, Nietzsche ya da Rimbaud olamaz. Her hayati zekânın, tutkulu soruları, agresif cevapları vardır; ama kadınlar kâşif olamaz; dişi aklına sahip bir Lewis ya da Clark olamaz.”
Dissociation from other women is always the safest course. They are not sluttish, but other women who have had abortions probably are. They tried not to get pregnant (birth control being illegal in many parts of the country before 1973), but other women who had abortions probably did not. They love their children, but other women who have had abortions may well be the cold mothers, the cruel mothers, the vicious women. They are individuals of worth and good morals who had compelling reasons for aborting, but the other women who had abortions must have done something wrong, were wrong, are somehow indistinct (not emerged from the primal female slime as individuals), were sex not persons. In keeping the secret they cut themselves off from other women to escape the shame of other women, the shame of being the same as other women, the shame of being female. They are ashamed of having had this bloody experience, of having this female body that gets torn into again and again and bleeds and can die from the tearing and the bleeding, the pain and the mess, of having this body that was violated again, this time by abortion. Admitting to an illegal abortion is like admitting to having been raped: whoever you tell can see you, undress you, spread your legs, see the thing go in, see the blood, watch the pain, almost touch the fear, almost taste the desperation. The woman who admits to having had an illegal abortion allows whoever hears her to picture her—her as an individual in that wretched body—in unbearable vulnerability, as close to being punished purely for being female as anyone ever comes. It is the picture of a woman being tortured for having had sex.
A political promise is made, and kept, that some women will do some things so that all women must not do all things.
There is the fear of having murdered: not someone, not real murder; but of having done something hauntingly wrong. She has learned (learned is a poor word for what has happened to her) that every life is more valuable than her own; her life gets value through motherhood, a kind of benign contamination. She has been having children in her mind, and