So I met up with the girls last night. It’s been a long time, far too long, since the three of us were together. There’s such an energy there, I get giddy just thinking about it. There is something that hums inside of me, something that seems like it’s tangible when the three of us are together. It’s present regardless of our moods, our temperaments, or our circumstances.
In Lit class, we learned about the “True” woman and the “New” woman. Granted, this was early 19th Century, but it still loosely applies today. A true woman was comprised of purity, piety, domesticity, and submission. Sounds a bit patriarchal to me, but who am I to quibble with the source? It’s been a while since we’ve covered new womanhood, but what struck me most was that it wasn’t the antithesis of these qualities, but rather the choice to enact them as they choose them.
I was hit by an image of a quilt coming home from meeting the girls. One piece of cloth being stitched to another, some more closely and, as you get away from the first piece, some further away. The needle goes in, and it pinches; it goes out, and it’s pulled.
Lyrical Fool 