i hate that “LOL SO IF WOMEN ARE EQUAL CAN I PUNCH YOU” shit bc 1 in 3 women are abused
y’all are already punching us
the issue is that we’d like you to stop
You want to reappropriate life for yourselves?
In the meantime, destroy the bosses that are in you, destroy the capitalistic characteristics within you. Destroy yourselves as our bosses. Destroy yourselves as the inexhaustible vacuums of our domestic labor.†
from «Le operaie della casa», June-July, ‘76
†Yes, vaccuums. Vacuum cleaners. Aspiratori. (As in, that which gobbles up without limit.) A remarkable line, as it figures men both as the endless void that swallows up unpaid labor and as the very tool – the industrially produced machine – that’s part of that labor, which allegedly “lightens the load” and “makes housework a breeze!” No, not a breeze. A tremendous sucking of time.
oh love those Italian Autonomistas.
IN BEGINNING, HULK SMASH FOR LOVE OF SMASH. LATER, HULK REALIZE CRAVING FOR SMASH CAUSED BY HEGEMONIC FORCES WHICH DISCONNECTED HULK FROM SELF. HULK QUESTION SYSTEMS OF PRIVILEGE. SOON HULK SMASH WITH GREATER PURPOSE. CULTURAL MINDFULNESS GIVE HULK SUPERPOWERS OF ANTI-PATRIARCHAL SMASH!
PATRIARCHY NOT WORK ALONE. SEXISM, RACISM, CLASSISM AND HOMOPHOBIA REINFORCE EACH OTHER. HULK SAY TO FOLLOWERS: SMASH ON MULTIPLE FRONTS. AND, JUST IN CASE YOU STUMBLE, BRING EXTRA PAIR OF PURPLE SHORTS.
I ENJOY tremendously being adored, loved, and provided for by my husband. I adore staying home and taking care of him and my children on these miserable cold, ugly days. I am fulfilled, happy and content. Who are you kidding that I need more?
From “Our Readers Sound Off on Women’s Lib” in the Chicago Tribune, March 28, 1972.
I particularly enjoyed this letter, which seemed so sad and conflicted. It reads with a seething discontent: why only focus on the ugly days?
Antifeminism today isn’t all that different than it was back in the 70s; online criticisms of feminist websites don’t read that differently from reactions to Ms. in 1972.
The Life Of An Archivist (or Historian): A Constant realization of how far we HAVEN’T come.