To: Snickering Hound
My boyfriend, who had already wept, watched me as I mumbled incoherently, clutching myself.
An image I will immediately
wipe from my mind, laughing hysterically.
9 posted on
11/11/2016 8:18:23 AM PST by
tet68
( " We would not die in that man's company, that fears his fellowship to die with us...." Henry V.)
To: tet68
But we kept going, thinking these were the dying moans of the dragon known as the patriarchy being stabbed again and again in the stomach. We believed that on November 9, they'd be licking their wounds while we celebrated. It is painful on a cellular level knowing those men got what they wanted, just as it's painful to know you are hated for daring to ask for what is yours. It's painful to know that white women, so unable to see the unity of female identity, so unable to look past their violent privilege, and so inoculated with hate for themselves, showed up to the polls for him, too. My voice was literally lost when I woke up, squeaky and raw, and I ached in the places that make me a woman, the places where I've been grabbed so carelessly, the places we are struggling to call our own.
To: tet68
Which parts of her fat ass did she clutch?
42 posted on
11/11/2016 8:31:20 AM PST by
Gaffer
To: tet68
Her boyfriend sounds more like a little girl than she is.
To: tet68
all these stories sound like really bad feminist commie dystopian fantqsy porn.
60 posted on
11/11/2016 8:44:15 AM PST by
Secret Agent Man
(Gone Galt; Not averse to Going Bronson.)
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