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Monday, July 24, 2017

Morning Reflections: Feminism and Me

I am not sure, where or when my “feminism” began, but I am sure it was not an outside influence 

that inspired me. 

As far back as I was conscious of reason, I had a very strong sense of independence and justice 

which, got me into trouble at a very young age and throughout my school years, particularly in 

boarding school, where such matters were strongly opposed. It failed to change me. Stop me. I 

failed to bend me, conform me.

Throughout the years I was first granted the honorary title of “defender of the poor” and later on, 

was “accused” of being a feminist for exactly the same reason. But it was not before decades past 

that I had come to terms with the role. In my own way.

I simply dreaded the term and, I hated the feminists of the day. I found mostly them combative, 

rude, careless... Sill, I found myself (with my brother, he though she was cute) at an University 

talk of a foreign one (the one I most disliked).  Just had to hear what she had to say. (well, I 

learned a lot about her, nothing that the I liked or wanted to emulate).

The event was disgraceful for all her (unfortunately tolerated)  bad behavior in general. She did 

not dispel the loathe increasing in my belly. My perverse curiosity for what is contrary to myself 

has always propelled me towards understanding what exactly I did not like about the idea or the


I continued being myself, “doing my thing”, independently and mindfully,  way before  

mindfulness became a virtue... (My goodness, such an elevation of simple manners!).
However, I have always been strictly concerned with “human rights”. Everyone’s rights. Male, female, adult, child. 

Old, young, middle aged. Living/alive, was good enough for me.

The couple of decades of resenting “bullying” feminists faded away quietly as most of them 

did... Some, are still around. One, I admired somewhere “in between”.  Still,  my favorite people.  

In the meantime, I arrived back at one of my youth’s passions of painting, and because of it, have 

been consistently invited to share works for the celebration of  International Woman’s Day 

during these past twelve years. A number of subjects on the topic came to the fore and I

addressed them as observed, as a woman. How else could I?

Here I am again, in the role of the (unwilling) feminist. But this time is different. 

I am totally focused on the rights of group of people: women, which actually, make me by 

default or, perhaps even willingly, a feminist. 

I began to embrace the thought. The concept of having been one all of my life, and understanding 

(as in lightbulb going on) that in fact I have been/was a feminist. 

I actually embodied feminism, before I had any inkling of it, let alone have knowledge nor conscience of it.

I was a full fledged feminist. I have plowed through life according to the 

circumstances.  It was never a concern of mine if it was considered a “male or a “female” job; 

while knowing we are intrinsically different, apart and aside from being human beings.

Therefore, I was many “first” in a series of positions/jobs, volunteer and salaried that were met 

with some surprise, amusement (at the beginning) and also resistance with scorn. Occasionally, 

also malice.  To think of it, I was most likely the first female “consultant” in our area, 

when “consultancy” was still in the womb.

In some cases, there weren’t  facilities available for females. As was the case when applied at the 

zoo to become a zoo keeper.  At the time I felt I rather shovel animal shit, than take any human 

one! It was not to be. I understood by the tone of our interaction this was not personal, just a fact. 

And determined as I though I was, I did not follow through; What I missed, was the opportunity 

to state or do something that would have opened the doors sooner....

However, the zoo director fully supported me later,  while I was collecting signatures for a

petition to change the law, by increasing the penalty for the killing of wild animals in captivity, 

after a couple of tragic incidents in  our area. The law was changed that Fall and was actual until 

recently, when it was greatly objected to by female hunters, shooting wild animals in captive at 

a farm for killing purposes... I believe they succeeded. Glad not live there anymore.  Sorry I 

was not around to oppose them myself. One must effectively conclude, that I do not believe in 

supporting all women in everything because we share a gender.

Despite all the intricacies life threw in my path, I just continued doing “my thing” and lived 

happy and proud of myself. Despite family opposition in some cases (if, not most!). Mostly, I 

accomplished what I desired. Other times, I gave up my determination for my sanity.  Of course, 

as much as I love certain trades, like carpentry (inherited from grandfather), I had no desire to 

have any trade jobs traditionally held by males. (not really, they are a number of jobs though, none that include the 

use of muscles)

Except, and,  a big “except”, for painting. Yet, it never occurred to me personally that, this was a 

male dominated profession (mainly, by male peacocks!)... A “tradition” of ignoring great art 

executed by women, as well as the women themselves.

A few years back I decided to revisit my “investigation” on the topic and  learned that there are 

many types of feminism. So, I quietly, privately, added my brand to it.

“Just do it”. Not to plagiarize a slogan...  The way each one of us lives is, (should be) a 

building block, a “tribute to the cause”. 

No virtue in being a feminist if, all aspects of our daily lives are not permeated with humanity, 

decency, compassion, justice, respect, understanding  and love for others; which, are not 

exclusively feminine attributes. We are all in it together. As in: All of humanity is in it together.

Shuffling, solving the Rubik's cube of life....


"Thorn" Giclée - 16" x 20" ©

Tuesday, July 11, 2017

Words, words, words!

Is it only me that at the sight of a word or a "string of words" conjures up images of unrelated
For example: Sign reads
"Live yoga"... as opposed to dead yoga? Or, what is that they had in mind?
Is it a drop-in yoga place?
The instructor is alive?
The participants are required to be alive? And so on...

And then there are a couple of retirement homes that in themselves are not funny, but the choice of names have my smiling or laughing at their site:
White Cliff: as in "readying to jump off"?
Peace Arch: as in "Once you are through the doors, you are done?

Words have such power over me... and I love it. It makes for interesting walks and thoughts, letting
imagination run wild!

Wednesday, April 20, 2016

a Very short Wednesday story

Considering he was on a five year downward spiral, would never find his way to GQ's sidewalk, let alone grace its pages, he dumped her after 5 years of unending love promises, within minutes of her telling him she put on some weight again....

Thursday, March 26, 2015

"Moments": Germanwings Flight 4U9525

On this sunny and warm afternoon, Manuela sat sipping her black coffee, inhaling her cigarette smoke and picking at her cuticles, alternately.... high above, an airplane hummed its passing by.
The contents of her stomach fighting to hurl up the earlier lunch, while she fought back tears. No one she knew on Germanwings Flight 4U9525, yet, the overwhelming sadness in her was undeniable; she felt a deep loss.
It was a deep loss of trust, as she thought about the times she trusted more the pilots of the planes she flew, than perhaps that one particular physician in her entire life...
How will she ever be able to climb upon such magnificent flying contraption again and trust? As she now realized the enormous trust placed upon them in the past. Honest, spontaneous, unquestioning trust.
She felt no longer capable to do so. Would she demand a look into the eyes of both pilot and co-pilot next time,  would she board hoping to safely land. Possibly many others feel this way today. How soon will it take for this feeling to fade away? And how much scotch would have to be consumed to ease the panic of the memory? No question she would have to trust.

Monday, March 23, 2015

Momentos/Solamente, otro dia en el paraiso"

Manuela despertó lentamente, pero lo suficiente como para apretar sus ojos cerrados aun más. Es que no quería despertar otro lunes en medio de este  inerte, estéril e insípido suburbio norteamericano, el cual luego aun más la irritaría con los ruidos incesantes del dribar de la pelota, y los  innumerables fracasados atentados a dominar el skateboard y la bateria de un vecino distante con  demasiada ilución. Un auto que otro agintando el aire... Nada  deliciosamente cosquilloso y estimulante. Solamente, otro dia en el paraíso!

"Moments / Just another day in paradise"

Manuela woke up gently, but enough to squeeze her eyes shut with all her might, for she did not want to wake another Monday in the middle of this inert, sterile and insipid north american bit of suburbia; which, she knew would further irritate her day with sounds of apparently incessant  basketball dribbling, skateboarding attempt failure and the distant overly optimistic neighbour's battery sound. The odd passing car rousing the air, but not much else. Nothing deliciously ticklish and stimulating. Just another day in paradise

Friday, March 20, 2015

"Moments" - The call

The land line rung itself out and disengaged; she was not available, no one was available despite the urgent prompting of the phone. The caller, survived and forgot the urgency.
She was driving away when the intrusion occurred; would the cell have rung, she would have immediately snapped herself to answer it, a silly matter, as usual. She also survived.
Life has such a determined way to go on...

Wednesday, March 18, 2015

"Momentos" - 2

Ella, soñaba y soñaba.... ese mundo creado era su latiente realidad.

"Moments" - 1

With quick efficiency the smart phones staked themselves to transform their lot into monoliths... then, went daringly silent!

Tuesday, March 17, 2015

"Momentos" 1

Manejando, encontrándose sumergida en una densa sopa emocional, se llegó a una intersección; obsevando el tráfijo volando como flechas en tres direcciones... "posiblemente" mil,  no la despaviló!