I haven't had too many experiences reading feminist literature - the one I remember best is Volga's Svechcha (translated from Telugu by Ari Sitaramayya), a book that moved me
deeply when I read it. I suppose it fits the stereotype of the angry feminist book, but I read it when I was still forming my own thoughts about the concept of freedom, so the fundamental theme of the book - a woman's right to self-determination - struck a chord.
A few days ago, I had a conversation with a cousin of mine on women's rights and ended up writing a blog post here titled A Vagina Monologue (in a manner of speaking). It was about the freedom of women, and I just decided to name it after a fairly famous one-woman play by Eve Ensler that I had read about.
The problem was, I hadn't actually read/seen the play. And for some reason, that bothered the heck out of me, so I decided to correct that oversight. I just finished reading it, ergo this post.
It's a really well-written piece of work. The woman has a nice, easy style. The language is fairly graphic at times. But there are also moments that made me laugh. I realized that she was making a serious point as well, but I couldn't help chuckling when the old Jewish lady talked
about the flood. So sue me. But here's the thing: when she has to talk about something traumatic, she doesn't pull any punches. There are moments when it takes some effort to continue reading.
And you know what, despite a reasonably well developed sense of cynicism, I feel that the title of my earlier post was a bit flippant. I'm not going to change it, though - it's gonna stay that way, to remind myself of the need to be a little less of a motormouth.
deeply when I read it. I suppose it fits the stereotype of the angry feminist book, but I read it when I was still forming my own thoughts about the concept of freedom, so the fundamental theme of the book - a woman's right to self-determination - struck a chord.
A few days ago, I had a conversation with a cousin of mine on women's rights and ended up writing a blog post here titled A Vagina Monologue (in a manner of speaking). It was about the freedom of women, and I just decided to name it after a fairly famous one-woman play by Eve Ensler that I had read about.
The problem was, I hadn't actually read/seen the play. And for some reason, that bothered the heck out of me, so I decided to correct that oversight. I just finished reading it, ergo this post.
It's a really well-written piece of work. The woman has a nice, easy style. The language is fairly graphic at times. But there are also moments that made me laugh. I realized that she was making a serious point as well, but I couldn't help chuckling when the old Jewish lady talked
about the flood. So sue me. But here's the thing: when she has to talk about something traumatic, she doesn't pull any punches. There are moments when it takes some effort to continue reading.
And you know what, despite a reasonably well developed sense of cynicism, I feel that the title of my earlier post was a bit flippant. I'm not going to change it, though - it's gonna stay that way, to remind myself of the need to be a little less of a motormouth.
powered by performancing firefox
No comments:
Post a Comment