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And it stuns me silent, for a moment: just how vast the gap is between who I am and how people see me.

I am so much smaller than the Carrie Soto in Gwen's head.

When did I lose that? The delight of success?
When did winning become something I needed in order to survive? Something I did not enjoy having, so much as panic without?

“It was okay to win as long as I acted surprised when I did and attributed it to luck should never let on how much I wanted to win or, worse, that I believed I deserved to win. And I should never, under any circumstances, admit that I did not believe all of my opponents were just as worthy as I was.”

"When women gain their economic freedom they will cease being playthings and utilities for men," she wrote in 1912 […] "The first step toward getting life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness for any woman is her decision whether or not she shall become a mother. Enforced motherhood is the most complete denial of a woman's right to life and liberty." (Of Margaret Sanger)

When [Mary Edward’s Walker] was captured by Confederate troops after crossing enemy lines to aid in an amputation, a Confederate captain wrote of being "both amused and disgusted" by the sight of her in full uniform: "not good looking and of course had tongue enough for a regiment of men."

"It became very important that I perform in a way that wouldn't provide some reason or cause not to have more women in the future.” - Sandra Day O’Connor, the First Woman of the Supreme Court of the USA

The horrors of that place felt powerless in comparison to my longing for memory.

This was said with a smile, as if the fact of finding in your family tree an innocent woman murdered on grounds of delusional allegations were a cute little anecdote for dinner-party gossip. And it begs the question: which other mass crime, even one long-past, is it possible to speak of like this—with a smile?

he listed the names of dozens of the city's women who were burned as witches in the public square. "Many of Bruges' inhabitants still bear these surnames and, before visiting the exhibition, they had no idea they could have an ancestor accused of witchcraft," the museum's director commented in the documentary Dans le sillage des sorcières de Bruegel.

It hurts
to see how i’ve
betrayed myself
trying to save
the souls of men
who do not want
to be saved
it hurts to see
how my legacy
will only rest
in the space
between my legs

• the book of mary magdalene

J’ai déjà pleuré deux fois 😭

'So you're his wife?' the man said, moving his eyes up and down her body as though
he were trying to guess her worth.

She said that I was also the person who double-cleaned the coffee machine. I protested that no one cleaned it properly, and she laughed and said that I was both chaos and order.

And then she heard [Zeus’] hated voice, telling her she could not escape him. She already knew what she had to do to make the pain stop. Submit to
another pain. Beaten at last, she gave in and reverted to her original form.
As Zeus raped her, she thought of being an eagle.