Unsafe New York: Part Eleven

LOVE YOUR BODY DAY
I am back. Sadly. And the subject of the matter in lieu of the "Love your Body Day" is: womben's cowardice.
The big question is: why are we such cowards? Why do we give our positions so easily? Why do we shrink in, like oysters, and crawl deeper and deeper to our demise? We don't even need to think about being burried: we are burried already, in oblivion. Why do I say it: very simply. I am an active person. I go to many places and see many things. Women suppresing the rising woman. Telling each other things designed to keep them in place and to keep them from evolving. They will tell you to yield the way, to swallow the insult, to shut your mouth and to forego your rights. They teach each other cowardice and obedience, no, obeisance.
Serve, serve, serve.
They cripple in turn one another. Their spirit is crippled by cowardice. They truly hate anyone who dares to be better. Unbelievable people, they hate the eminent and instead of rejoicing in the opportunity to evolve, dread it and curse the one who attempts the "Shawashang redemption." Among many things that I see is an absolute, blatant ignoring of screaming injustices done to women. A panel of discussion may hold place for injustices on some minority group that got mocked, but the fact that a woman is afraid to claim her rights and settle for lack of physical violence, is overlooked, ignored, footballed around and explained away. A woman gets noticed because of her color, identity and ethnicity, but what does that have to do with her mind, her spirit, and her soul? How about her accomplishments? Ah, but it is very simple. Who do other women hate with impecable an impeccable denial of that person's humanity? - You all know the answer. Other women. Women would rather hand the key to the city to a man, they will look hopefully upon him imagining all the centuries of repeated history of abuse not to be there, but not to a talented, selfless and driven individual of the same gender. And you wonder why there are no power groups or clicks of women? The indentification with the deadly "woman" role is complete because of the corresponding actions: shavings, make-ups, dressing-up. These are constant additions to the female gender and without them a woman, frankly, simply does not exit. Who is she outside of a role imposed by someone of the opposite gender? Who is she without her make up and the role of a watch dog of a man, willing and ready to jump on any woman who potentially may threaten the aptriarch and his power holds? What chances does she stand, without personality, self, and identity? All she has depends on the male, all, including her own identity. How awful! How impossible! How much of slave, but slave not for 300 years, but for the span of entire human civilizations. Myths of free women remain what they are: myths. And try to live the myth out?
Other women will do anything possible to justify why they shave, pluck and make themselves up. They will scream with the foam at their mouth why the lie of who they are is not a lie and the moment you implore them to use reason to differentiate between the truth and the lie, and make distinctions, will call you some name that will serve as a whip or try to use a male weapon of whipping fear into you. They congregate around some male and males and make hen sounds to no end. They lay eggs. They click and cluck and chuckle and make noises. Their vision is small and limited, and fears are huge. Through continuous cultivation of negative traits and denial of cultivation of positive, they have become lowly, treacherous, plotting and cuniving creatures. Congradulations, the world, way to go into the future!