Paulina

“...the belief that the threat of rape is everywhere, that it can happen at any time, that it is the worst fate that can befall women, is enough to make us police ourselves and restrict our own mobility. But on the other hand, feminists also want to demystify rape, to begin to see it not as a unique and life-destroying form of violation from which one can never recover, but as (merely) another kind of violence against person.”
― Nivedita Menon, Seeing Like a Feminist

“In a certain light, feminism is just the long, slow realization that the stuff you love hates you”
― Lindy West

“When I was in high school, I would drive into Seattle to see bands and sip coffee late into the night, and I always ended up taking the long way home. I'd be a little anxious about stalling my Datsun on one of the hills around the city, so when I saw Denny Way, I always turned onto it, even though it led away from my home to Seattle's Capitol Hill district. From there I navigated winding hills and eventually ended up at home. A quick look at a map would have revealed the freeway that heads straight to my house, but since my circuitous route was familiar, I stuck to it. I should have known better, but I was just a kid. What excuse does the richest nation on earth have for driving around in the dark like an adolescent? Just because our familiar arguments over how best to help families and the economy lead us along well-trod paths doesn't make them the best ones we could be taking.”
― Heather Boushey, Finding Time: The Economics of Work-Life Conflict

“El miedo era un hombre que huía de su propia sombra. Era una mujer con auriculares que solamente podía oir por ellos su propio terror. El miedo era un solipsista, un narcisista, era ciego a todo lo que no fuera él mismo. El miedo era más fuerte que la ética, más fuerte que el discernimiento, más fuerte que la responsabilidad y que la civilización. El miedo era un animal lanzado a la carrera que pisoteaba niños mientras huía de sí mismo. El miedo era un fanático, un tirano, un cobarde, un enajenado y una puta. El miedo era una bala que le apuntaba al corazón.”
― Salman Rushdie, Two Years Eight Months and Twenty-Eight Nights