Misconstruing the idea of feminism appears to be a pastime of choice for a disconcerting number people across the Western world. “Feminist” is treated like a dirty word and regarded with a level of suspicion, if not smug ridicule and derision. Unfortunately, much of this treatment arises from those on the political right, and, surprisingly often (in my own experience), men.Continue reading “When I Say I Am a Feminist: A Clarification”
It is a natural inclination of the human soul, upon feeling alienated in its native country for a protracted time, to take it upon itself to find belonging elsewhere. There exists within mankind a deep and unrelenting need to belong, particularly within a coterie of those whom he deems kindred spirits, those whose orientation—be it earthy, spiritual, mental, or physical—closely aligns with his own, and, upon finding such a group, he endeavours to become a permanent fixture among their ranks.
The demand on the novelist is simple: intimately understand what it means to be human– all the anger, joy, sorrow, weakness, triumph, beauty, brokenness– and depict this humanness in a raw but poetic work of fiction that simultaneously makes readers laugh, cry, and contemplate life (and death), while dramatically and indefinitely altering the way they perceive both themselves and the universe.