It's been almost five years since I discovered feminism. A few months after that, I started this blog.
I have a very Sofía Coppola-ish memory of the moment it dawned upon me that I needed this blog. It was an afternoon math class, a month before my 17th birthday, and my legs were pantyhose free under my plaid school uniform, a tribute to the dawning spring. It was a few months after I discovered feminism, and I felt very out of place in a High School that was brimming with guys who felt superior because they had junk between their groin and girls full of hateful gossip. I couldn't believe that I was turning 17, an age when one is old enough to do great things, and yet, I had done nothing. And because I had already had a few (unsuccesful) blogs and knew the power of THE ONLINE, 1+1= Start "Dancing without Moving."
(It's funny how I haven't felt the need to change the title. Dance still feels to me like the body exploding with beauty, and by "dancing without moving" I meant something akin to prayer, something akin to awe.)
I was a young girl full of dreams and necessity and I still am. Five years older, still a feminist, still guilty with the feeling that I am piddling away my time, filling it with worthy things but not important things. Perhaps I am a bit more patient, a bit less rebellious, a tad less worried about what others will think.
But in essence, five years have gone by, sort of in vain. I am, however, still a lover of beauty, a child in a woman's body, a person who feels the injustices of the world like knives to the heart, a woman searching for love and finding reality. Etcetera.
I am flawed, and I will always be. But I am a fighter, and I always will be.
Thank you for enjoying the journey with me, dear Blog Readers.
|Me, five years ago. Even physically I am still the same.|