It is cruelly, bitterly ironic that in order to read the powerful, feminist volume that is A Megaphone, I must touch its cover drawing, done by my husband who has told unto power unimaginably horrific lies about me.
It is cruelly, bitterly ironic that in order to read the powerful, feminist volume that is A Megaphone, I must touch its cover drawing, done by my husband who has told unto power unimaginably horrific lies about me.
It has some ironies like that. Like I am trying to buy it but it has work by a dude who had a blog where a bunch of men “clucked” at me and called me “hen boyer” etc. and so then I don't buy it (though logically, right, he gets no money? so why care? why I am so awful that I care about being clucked at by men and called just another animal like women are always called by men?)
But all this including can be awful feeling. I am sorry it has to be awful feeling for you.