Wednesday 10 February 2010

A way to become an anarchist

For the night I made a list of pieces for the radio programming, starting with an interview with a poet.
Instructions - for reasons that completely escape me - at the computer were in Polish and my Polish does not go beyond tak and nie and a few phrases like that.
So after I left I noticed the programme that started was repeated on and on for hours on end.
But that was not the worst part.

The worst part was that the colleague who presented the repeating hour, an amiable divorced father of two children, casually mentioned that "of course" there was a period in his life when he went to prostitutes. The poet at the other side of the glass concurred. "Of course".

As far as  I can see there is nothing "of-course-like" about this. I take the liberty of making myself THE norm for this. For me, there is no other way to look at it. If I do not do it, why should I consider your behaviour as "normal" or "natural"?

And as if it had to happen, on the same day through the blogroll of A Pinch Of Salt I came at this place, whence I reached this place. From which this quote:

And all men who used me look the same.
One way I remember is through the staring of men before, during and after they used me.
It was a look where I could not believe in hope. In that stare, I lose that I was human.
I became a sex object.
I feel that look send fear into me. I feel it turning me into an obedient sex toy.
That stare has enter my nightmares.
I want to to see beyond that stare.
I know I was raped by rich African students. Men who were expecting to be rulers.
Sometimes when I view governments from all countries and cultures, I think of the tortures those men put me through.
Men like that made me an anarchist.

The weblog of the woman who wrote these words and yet another one.

I cannot think of anything more to say about this now.