Science Fiction, As I Mentioned Before, Writes

And Middle-class Women, Although Taught To Value Established Forms, Are In The Same Position As The Working Class: Neither Can Use Established Forms To Express What The Forms Were Never Intended To Express (and May Very Well Operate To Conceal).

I Think We Ought To Decide That Man-hating Is Not Only Respectable But Honorable. To Be A Misandrist A Woman Needs Considerable Ingenuity, Originality, And Resilience. A Misogynist Requires No Such Resources.

Art Is Collective. Always, It Has A Tradition Behind It.

Leaning Her Silly, Beautiful, Drunken Head On My Shoulder, She Said, "oh, Esther, I Don't Want To Be A Feminist. I Don't Enjoy It. It's No Fun." "i Know," I Said. "i Don't Either." People Think You Decide To Be A "radical," For God's Sake, Like Deciding To Be A Librarian Or A Ship's Chandler. You "make Up Your Mind," You "commit Yourself" (sounds Like A Mental Hospital, Doesn't It?). I Said Don't Worry, We Could Be Buried Together And Have Engraved On Our Tombstone The Awful Truth, Which Some Day Somebody Will Understand: We Wuz Pushed.

I Didn’t And Don’t Want To Be A ‘feminine’ Version Or A Diluted Version Or A Special Version Or A Subsidiary Version Or An Ancillary Version, Or An Adapted Version Of The Heroes I Admire. I Want To Be The Heroes Themselves.