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Art, Fear, Voicemail



I originally posted this on Facebook and the story proved resonant enough that I wanted to extend its reach as far as I can. The more people it helps the less upset I am that it happened.

Guys, I just had a truly bad day. I wouldn’t normally post about it on Facebook, but I feel like the lesson…

"Treat yourself like an equal of the people you admire." This is my friend Lauren.  She’s a creative powerhouse in terms of writing, film, theater, and that sort of thing.  When I saw her post this on FB this morning, it really got in my head.  CREATIVE PEOPLE (but also other folks), ESPECIALLY WOMEN (but also dudes): Most of us have this kind of thing in our brains.  It’s hard. I know it.  So take Lauren’s words and think on them.

Male fantasies, male fantasies, is everything run by male fantasies? Up on a pedestal or down on your knees, it’s all a male fantasy: that you’re strong enough to take what they dish out, or else too weak to do anything about it. Even pretending you aren’t catering to male fantasies is a male fantasy: pretending you’re unseen, pretending you have a life of your own, that you can wash your feet and comb your hair unconscious of the ever-present watcher peering through the keyhole, peering through the keyhole in your own head, if nowhere else. You are a woman with a man inside watching a woman. You are your own voyeur.
Margaret Atwood, The Robber Bride (via daetrimental)

(Source: courcel)

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