Dear All,
I was at a party (wait, what is that? It's a thing people go to to have fun and celebrate together- the shadow side is that you might infect each other with viruses or ideas), and a old white guy was talking. No, that isn't quite the whole story, but for now, this description, plus 'inebriated' will do.
Anyway, it was funny, too, because it was a gathering of mostly women, of all kinds of ethnicities, ages, and gender orientations. So, it was funny that this guy was filling, was being allowed to fill, so much space.
Anyway, like I say, this man was talking, and I saw some young women bristle at his talk, and I lamely blew some support in their direction, but still, this guy was talking. Loudly, because, well, people that talk shit quietly aren't really a problem, are they?
Anyway, I heard my lame and weak protestations, which I had designed to undercut but not confront directly, this old loud white guy, and I felt keenly how formed I have been by talk like his. How whispered undercuttings are not really enough.
Anyway, I decided, that even though I have wanted to share some of the great moments; the great openings in my formative years, made possible by the voices of men that seemed to ring very true, very boldly, very expansively; that these moments are kind of polluted, actually, and not good enough to share.
Anyway, by moments I mean words, I mean books.
Anyway, I am going to clear my bookshelf of these kinds of men talking, even though they meant a lot to me, because I don't think we need them anymore. I don't think people need to hear more of the details of what they do not want, and
anyway, I don't need to either.
PS
Here's a source for some books I can put in the newly emptied spaces on the shelf.
