A Room of One's Own-Virginia Woolf

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...Be that as it may, I could not help thinking, as I looked at the works
of Shakespeare on the shelf, that the bishop was right at least in this;
it would have been impossible, completely and entirely, for any woman to
have written the plays of Shakespeare in the age of Shakespeare. Let me
imagine, since facts are so hard to come by, what would have happened
had Shakespeare had a wonderfully gifted sister, called Judith, let us
say. Shakespeare himself went, very probably,--his mother was an
heiress--to the grammar school, where he may have learnt Latin--Ovid,
Virgil and Horace--and the elements of grammar and logic. He was, it is
well known, a wild boy who poached rabbits, perhaps shot a deer, and
had, rather sooner than he should have done, to marry a woman in the
neighbourhood, who bore him a child rather quicker than was right. That
escapade sent him to seek his fortune in London. He had, it seemed, a
taste for the theatre; he began by holding horses at the stage door.
Very soon he got work in the theatre, became a successful actor, and
lived at the hub of the universe, meeting everybody, knowing everybody,
practising his art on the boards, exercising his wits in the streets,
and even getting access to the palace of the queen. Meanwhile his
extraordinarily gifted sister, let us suppose, remained at home. She was
as adventurous, as imaginative, as agog to see the world as he was. But
she was not sent to school. She had no chance of learning grammar and
logic, let alone of reading Horace and Virgil. She picked up a book now
and then, one of her brother's perhaps, and read a few pages. But then
her parents came in and told her to mend the stockings or mind the stew
and not moon about with books and papers. They would have spoken sharply
but kindly, for they were substantial people who knew the conditions of
life for a woman and loved their daughter--indeed, more likely than not
she was the apple of her father's eye. Perhaps she scribbled some pages
up in an apple loft on the sly but was careful to hide them or set fire
to them. Soon, however, before she was out of her teens, she was to be
betrothed to the son of a neighbouring wool-stapler. She cried out that
marriage was hateful to her, and for that she was severely beaten by her
father. Then he ceased to scold her. He begged her instead not to hurt
him, not to shame him in this matter of her marriage. He would give her a
chain of beads or a fine petticoat, he said; and there were tears in his
eyes. How could she disobey him? How could she break his heart? The force
of her own gift alone drove her to it. She made up a small parcel of her
belongings, let herself down by a rope one summer's night and took the
road to London. She was not seventeen. The birds that sang in the hedge
were not more musical than she was. She had the quickest fancy, a gift
like her brother's, for the tune of words. Like him, she had a taste for
the theatre. She stood at the stage door; she wanted to act, she said.
Men laughed in her face. The manager--a fat, looselipped man--guffawed.
He bellowed something about poodles dancing and women acting--no woman,
he said, could possibly be an actress. He hinted--you can imagine what.
She could get no training in her craft. Could she even seek her dinner
in a tavern or roam the streets at midnight? Yet her genius was for
fiction and lusted to feed abundantly upon the lives of men and women
and the study of their ways. At last--for she was very young, oddly like
Shakespeare the poet in her face, with the same grey eyes and rounded
brows--at last Nick Greene the actor-manager took pity on her; she found
herself with child by that gentleman and so--who shall measure the heat
and violence of the poet's heart when caught and tangled in a woman's
body?--killed herself one winter's night and lies buried at some
cross-roads where the omnibuses now stop outside the Elephant and
Castle.

That, more or less, is how the story would run, I think, if a woman in
Shakespeare's day had had Shakespeare's genius. But for my part, I agree
with the deceased bishop, if such he was--it is unthinkable that any
woman in Shakespeare's day should have had Shakespeare's genius. For
genius like Shakespeare's is not born among labouring, uneducated,
servile people. It was not born in England among the Saxons and the
Britons. It is not born to-day among the working classes. How, then,
could it have been born among women whose work began, according to
Professor Trevelyan, almost before they were out of the nursery, who
were forced to it by their parents and held to it by all the power of
law and custom? Yet genius of a sort must have existed among women as it
must have existed among the working classes. Now and again an Emily
Brontë or a Robert Burns blazes out and proves its presence. But
certainly it never got itself on to paper. When, however, one reads of
a witch being ducked, of a woman possessed by devils, of a wise woman
selling herbs, or even of a very remarkable man who had a mother, then I
think we are on the track of a lost novelist, a suppressed poet, of some
mute and inglorious Jane Austen, some Emily Brontë who dashed her brains
out on the moor or mopped and mowed about the highways crazed with the
torture that her gift had put her to. Indeed, I would venture to guess
that Anon, who wrote so many poems without singing them, was often a
woman. It was a woman Edward Fitzgerald, I think, suggested who made the
ballads and the folk-songs, crooning them to her children, beguiling her
spinning with them, or the length of the winter's night.

I told you in the course of this paper that Shakespeare had a sister;
but do not look for her in Sir Sidney Lee's life of the poet. She died
young--alas, she never wrote a word. She lies buried where the omnibuses
now stop, opposite the Elephant and Castle. Now my belief is that this
poet who never wrote a word and was buried at the cross-roads still
lives. She lives in you and in me, and in many other women who are not
here to-night, for they are washing up the dishes and putting the
children to bed. But she lives; for great poets do not die; they are
continuing presences; they need only the opportunity to walk among us in
the flesh. This opportunity, as I think, it is now coming within your
power to give her. For my belief is that if we live another century or
so--I am talking of the common life which is the real life and not of
the little separate lives which we live as individuals--and have five
hundred a year each of us and rooms of our own; if we have the habit of
freedom and the courage to write exactly what we think; if we escape a
little from the common sitting-room and see human beings not always in
their relation to each other but in relation to reality; and the sky,
too, and the trees or whatever it may be in themselves; if we look past
Milton's bogey, for no human being should shut out the view; if we face
the fact, for it is a fact, that there is no arm to cling to, but that
we go alone and that our relation is to the world of reality and not
only to the world of men and women, then the opportunity will come and
the dead poet who was Shakespeare's sister will put on the body which
she has so often laid down. Drawing her life from the lives of the
unknown who were her forerunners, as her brother did before her, she
will be born. As for her coming without that preparation, without that
effort on our part, without that determination that when she is born
again she shall find it possible to live and write her poetry, that we
cannot expect, for that would he impossible. But I maintain that she
would come if we worked for her, and that so to work, even in poverty
and obscurity, is worth while.

Friday's Poll Question

What has caused the most devastation to the Lesbian Community?

 Use this space to discuss today's poll question.

Comments are open...

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An email from a Reader

I'll let her speak for herself:

Thank you for your words and great luck on your journey to loving the beautiful woman you are, never forget she is worth all the difficulties in doing so.

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Astraea LESBIAN Foundation for Justice-another NCLR

 

Astraea  is another "lesbian" org using a slight of hand through using lesbian identity to fund non lesbian cases.

This org claims to have a "commitment to feminist principles" yet clearly supports trans/trans ideology which is steeped in anti-feminism by its continued adherence to the shrinking roles of women, promotion of hyper femininity and the misogyny that is the foundation for all who transition. That is NOT a "commitment to feminist principles", that is paying lip service to feminism in name only in the same way this org is paying lip service to lesbians.

Save your dollars for a more worthy cause lesbians.

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Mid Week Discussion: Lesbian Films

Since a discussion of sorts has broken out on the post seeking dyke films, how about we utilize this space for the discussion of what constitutes a lesbian film and leave the other space for film suggestions?

So, in your opinion makes a lesbian film? (notice I said film, not lesbian)

And a polite reminder, it isnt having a sexual past with males that revokes your lesbian card, but having sexual futures with men that does.

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Trans Trending-Who is Transitioning

Any one of these young females could be your daughter. Misogyny + the male medical machine + limited roles for females and hyper femininity equals what you see before you, self hating females desperate to eradicate all traces of their femaleness. 

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Butch/Woman

Woman. Until I was nearly 40 years old, I couldn't bring myself to apply "woman" to myself. There is so much shame attached to the word and I as Butch attached even more. I could be girl. When flounced by the public with "are you a boy or a girl" questions I always said in a matter of fact voice "a girl." It just was. I never attached much meaning to it, if I thought about it at all. Girl. But woman always seemed so much more, woman represented things that I never saw when I looked into a mirror. It's that disconnect, Butch Invisibility feeding Butch Shame. I can go anywhere, any country, any city and when I scan the crowds of people, among the women I see, I don't see or rarely see me in any of them.

I often wondered how could woman feel so right against my skin, but so wrong inside my head? I could easily recognize the power, the beauty, the passion and grace in other women, but when I felt powerful, attractive, passionate and moments of gracefulness woman felt nothing less than utter grossness when I tried applying her to me. How can a word feel gross? But it did. Shameful, yucky and wrong, that's what woman felt like to me. Logically, I could tell myself that adult females are women, but there was no logic to my shame. I could literally feel myself flinch whenever woman was applied to me. For years I used Butch as a crutch, as a way not to have to identify as woman. I'm a Butch not a woman, and when you say it enough times, those around you take the hint, especially lovers. Femmes who feel our shame as much as we do, Femmes who try to ease or eliminate our pain, Femmes who we see wince whenever we flinch over being called woman.

When you partner with a woman and you are a woman and you cannot fathom the woman you are? You hurt the woman who loves you, the woman you love - and maybe all women, but most definitely the woman who loves you. Realizing that was my biggest stepping stone to being a woman. My repulsiveness to woman and my physically negative reactions to being called a woman in the presence of a Femme lover was akin to me punching her in the gut with my fist. Because she SEES the woman I am and she LOVES the woman I am, desires her even so that when she struggles amid a world of female hatred to love the woman she is, when I reject myself as woman, I reject her too. Butch and Femme are intricately wound, and both are bound by our love of woman, which is the essence of us both, that unique adult lesbian femaleness. We may carry woman differently, maybe you cradle yours in your strong Femme arms, maybe I toss mine over a shoulder like a cave dweller and pad her around in my socked feet, we both need and want her and need to be proud of her so we can both face another day.

So well into my thirties, I became a woman for the first time, or rather I allowed myself to be the woman I had been all along. I packed away those kid comments that I heard repeatedly and even participated in between boys, where woman was used the ultimate insult. "You don't wanna play tackle football, what are you a woman???!!!" To admit and apply woman to myself was a liberation from some of the Butch Shame I carried, not all of it, but so god damn much of it. And I won't lie to you, it didn't feel right at first, but it did feel freeing and through years since of running free with her, she became who I am today.

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Calling for Lesbian Film Suggestions

I want have a blog list of lesbian films. Please list your favourite lesbian films suggestions. Preferably films that portray the unique friendships and romantic relationships between lesbians. Films that capture that non spoken knowingness that goes on only between dykes.

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Calling for Lesbian Fiction Suggestions

I'm looking to comprise a blog list of lesbian fiction. Please list some lesbian fiction you feel would be beneficial to other dykes, preferably fiction with some literary merit.

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Lesbian Only and Lesbian Student Only Orgs

I spent several hours yesterday searching Lesbian/Student Lesbian only organizations and found none. I will continue to look and if I do find any or if you happen across any email me them and I will keep that list at the side. But while searching and coming up empty, my searches werent a total bust, I found out that according to wiki, Audre Lorde is now a queer poet and activist! Oh really, does the deceased LESBIAN poet and activist Audre Lorde know this? Does she also know her name is being used for this "project"...???

Using a LESBIAN activist's name, claiming to be for the "queer" alphabet soup, yet its front page picture clearly illustrates just what this "project" is all about: TRANS.

The Audre Lorde Project is another deceptive organization utilizing a famous black LESBIAN for its deceptive needs.

If you are interested in helping lesbians, do NOT donate your lesbian time or lesbian money to this "project". This is another org. who needs to alter their name to reflect their true goals.

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NCLR and where your Lesbian dollars are going

Miss Kendell has been asked repeatedly on HER own FB "note" for a break down of where the money is going and to whom for the NClR. Obviously I have no access to those numbers nor is the NClR going to show us any TRANSparency, I can however show you where some of the money isnt going and it isnt LESBIAN issues.

 

Click for full article.  

How does allowing biological males to compete against biological females in sports benefit lesbians or females period? Am I missing something???

Click here for full article.
Special privileges for "trans travelers", your lesbian dollars at work.

Click for full article.
Money going towards a male transitioner in PRISON no less! Maybe while they are at it they could put some money in Manson's prison account.

Click for more info.

A malecentric self hating female, promoting the self hatred of other lesbians, not something I want MY time or money or NAME going to! 

Click for more info.
A male transitioner wanting to be treated like a real woman, gets treated like real woman, then complains! Malecentric and male privilege to boot, sickening that lesbian dollars went to fight and lose cases like this. Change society, NOT your body!

I see "transgender" listed as a specific, yet on an org that calls itself a national center for LEBIAN rights, while lesbians may have issues in the other areas listed here, issues specific TO lesbians are not addressed, YET trans is.

This obviously is just a tiny smattering of what this org is about and not about, but lesbians rights, lesbian issues are not the focal point for this organization. Out of cases pending not having to do with "gay marriage" two cases pending are lesbian specific, SEVEN cases are non lesbian specific. You dont have to take my word for it, do your homework, go to their website and you will be as disgusted as I am.

Lesbians as a minority group make FAR less money than any minority, especially lesbian who are non white. We work hard for our money, it often doesnt come easy to us, especially if we live openly as lesbians. The NClR does not value your lesbian dollars, if it did, the name would reflect their practices. Save your money for a more worthy place, lesbians deserve better for a fucking change.

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