Progressive. Queer. Feminist. Opinionated.

Wednesday, November 02, 2005

Quote Post - Dorothy Allison's Skin

From Dorothy Allison's Skin: Talking about Sex, Class, and Literature, page 157-158:

What was it like to be a lesbian before the woman's movement? It was to have the most dangerous addiction, risk the greatest loss, defy the most terribly consequences. The moon was not sufficient, and too many of us hated ourselves and feared our desire. But when we found each other, we made miracles - miracles of hope and defiance and love. This is the story that takes years to tell, my hand in hers and her trusting eyes, loose hair and learning to dance at thirty, borrowing and translating all my aunts' old stories, not talking in code, just pulling these butch girls down.

Everything is so sexual to me. Everything is a miracle. I am forty-four, almost the kind of old I intend to be - insistent, startling, sexual, and surprising. I like to use the rough words off my aunts' porches and use them to my own intent. I like to do the outrageous and tell stories about it, make nervous women giggle and giggly women nervous. I am never discrete, never what is expected. I have always loved those tough girls, those women who combine silence and power, but I am in my blossoming still, my long-delayed adolescence, my perfectly femme phase, and only half a mind to tell all I know.

This is the coda.

I have an ambition to be my own adolescent fantasy, to realize the science fiction fable and go back to that girl I was. I want to appear out of a moonlit lotus, find her twelve years old on a hardwood floor, reach down and take her hands, pull her up and tell her the story she has not yet lived. My life, her life, the life of a lesbian who learned the worth and price of sex. I want to call her Little Sister and laugh in a voice she will recognize. Say, sex is delicious. Sex is power. Never pretend that you do not want power in your life. Sex.

I'm going to get there somehow, swing my hair and promise my younger self that the struggle will be worth it.

"Girl," I want to say to her. "Hang on, honey. You are going to like it. It is going to be worth the price, worth the struggle. Child," I want to say, "you are going to be happy."


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