“we found the world in our cervixes” and “never trust anyone over 30”

It has been tough to follow national politics since May 2^nd. I’m in a state of denial about the upcoming provincial election in Ontario. I’m also in denial about the sexist nature of some of my friendships. And denial works… until it doesn’t. Frack. Just when I thought I was being a little hard on myself and maybe I should show myself some compassion about living in political apathy, I flipped my laptop open to see the Google word of the day is “disassociate.” Thanks a lot, Google. Blog time.

Both quotes in the title of this post were slogans of the women’s movement in the 1960s. They’re kinda edgy. Usually I like fuzzy quotes. Edgy femme stuff is on the brain, though, as I prepare to stomp around (peacefully) at the Take Back the Night march this Thursday night at Minto Park. It’s the kind of demonstration that is triggering by nature as we are forced to consider the way walking in fear is commonplace for women. The potential to be raped is so deeply ingrained that we accept it in order to get on with our days. This generally comes off as sounding a little extreme to some of my man friends, but it’s true. And they simply can't relate. It's the main factor that distances me from men. It's difficult to make fuzzy quotes out of this concept.

A few weeks ago, I was tossing around slogans and lifestyle quotes when my new friend Simon told me about his mandate (and plan for his first tattoo): ‘when walking, just walk’ (which I mentioned a few weeks ago in the context of my idyllic trip to Brighton). The 'walk' metaphor is particularly timely for Take Back the Night. Of course I fancy Simon's romantic decree to just be with oneself and others on this journey called life (perhaps with a cup of tea and a stuffed animal! fuzz!), and it parallels various turns of phrase that I resort to in times of motivational drought for personal/political realignment: live every day, love thy neighbour, a loving heart is the truest wisdom, etc. Obviously I'm inclined toward the mysteries of love, even in my political positions. I must have been rolled in honey, rose petals and sonnets as a baby.

But today as I weigh my sense of apathy against an acute sense of anger, these outlooks don't seem to pack enough punch. I need my cri de coeur to be peaceful in it’s aim, but kick more ass ‘cause there’s unjust stuff going on. Maybe: 'when walking, walk with your fucking chin up.' Going to read the whole local newspaper today... and get my mind a little dirty again.