A LITTLE FEATHER ON MY HAND

For some time now I have felt a ‘presence’ while I cook. I can’t explain but I know exactly who to connect it to. It makes me smile because if it were the thought of who I think, it would be quite strange. I do not have a good character, which is much worse alas, I am quite drastic when I decide to say enough, I rarely go back, men know that I am difficult, they consider me a piece of non-malleable granite. In fact, I can’t blame them, it’s better to give up someone like me, yet I haven’t always been so hard and adamant, I have a past as a ‘puppy looking for a master’. I wanted to be loved, like in fairy tales … stupid exactly like this sentence. The men I met made me realize that fairy tales are a collective deception, that princes and princesses are unlikely characters and that all of us, male and female, are just lower and sometimes very mean beings. Love is exploited, often used as the perfect shit gift one can get, the perfect rip-off. For love we do a lot of bullshit, we dress with good intentions those who have none at all. And so we find ourselves inside apparently wonderful stories, but that to see them like this, it is only us. What does this have to do with ‘presence’? It has to do with it because in 2015, while I was on the new social Tsu, I came across a very enigmatic man (eh I always fall for it!), Named P., he had a nickname that I loved mondomagico and who wrote wonderful things. I had met a unicorn, finally in the middle of nowhere! I put a lot of the things we said to each other here too, parts of chats and private messages, I also came to read on thce chat because my writing about ‘us’ made him happy. He was meditating, he had a sculpted physique, a beautiful voice with an Emilian accent and a top secret job, which I still don’t know about and which I will never know. We dated ‘virtually’ for many months, then things fell apart because too much mystery stops being fascinating after a while. I’m not the type who remains a thought, I want to become presence if, as they say, things are becoming serious, so the moment I feel a reticence, a deliberate lengthening, I tend to close the relationship. ‘If they don’t want you, don’t offer you’ is rule No. 1 now on my basic scale, so I told him we were fine like this, each in his own world. Too bad, I really liked his sweetness: he was able to hug me from afar, always making me feel his presence. And it makes me strange to hear it again, like this, after years. In the end, I hope he’s fine … better than me.

Then the problem is not that there is no hope, it is that there would be nothing to hope for. Who among you can say you know this sense of irrelevant vastness of the world – I wish I had better words to describe it – this closet world, stacked things, bad pyramid under which the dead sleep unhappily. For years I have said to myself: the trick is to find a moment of acute pain, which lasts at least half an hour and it is done. If you start thinking about it, if you let yourself slip into the phase of emptiness in the stomach, of the perpetual squeezing of the heart, then it becomes impossible: life has its tricks, it is on you like a blanket of tiredness, like the working day for workers , then you go to bed and sleep and wake up and you’re still alive and so again, like an absurd vice. I think it’s been a year since I last hugged someone. The intolerable semantics of tenderness – this too is difficult to explain. A year has passed, the exams are back in high school – you haven’t returned, despite Nietzsche. My waist is light and awaits the wind like a feather on the back of my hand.

BODY POSITIVITY

Fat, hair, bones, spots, vitiligo, moles, blood: never before has the body-positive captured the media attention as today. Body Positivity was born as a political and social movement aimed at challenging the canons and prejudices of society on bodies. Its origins are intertwined with the history of the 1960s claims on fat-acceptance, to combat discrimination against fat people and celebrate plus-size bodies; they burned photos of models like Twiggy and even books on diets, organized lectures and seminars in schools. From concrete activism then a part of Body Positivity has turned into a real economy in its own right, coming to coincide with the photos on Instagram made of glittery stretch marks.

The online version that we could define as “a little fake”, was created by liberal feminism under the influence of pinkwashing, that is all those marketing activities that use themes related to women (feminism, sex / body-positive etc.) to gain market advantage. The message, however, is obviously deviating until it reaches the paradoxical situation whereby the Body Positive movement itself is marginalizing the bodies that were previously at the center. This is because brands show new standards in advertisements, this time a little curvy, but always new standards. This also happens in the fashion shows, where luxury brands give more and more space to models with different bodies. Yet, as Antonio Mancinelli noted: “when people go to the boutiques of the same brands to buy a suit, they often find only very small sizes”.

For each cover that praises Body Positivity and self-acceptance, “without judgments”, in the magazine on duty there are dozens of advertisements and articles on fitness that talk about how to lose weight in a few weeks, and that promote the diet cultures.

Lizzo talked about how the body positivity movement is marketed and most of the time when you see that hashtag it’s smaller, curvy, white girls, and that’s not inclusive

It cannot be denied that an openness from the media towards these issues is positive news, especially if one thinks of all the problems of self-acceptance that adolescents experience, but there is almost never a concrete translation of the great declarations and reflections that are made. In this way, this Instagram caption-sweetened narrative risks remaining an end in itself.

Suffering from your appearance is wrong, you are okay as you are ”. It doesn’t matter if you are thin, fat, wide or narrow hips, stretch marks or small breasts, belly or frizzy hair, big nose or thin lips, teeth or crooked legs – you are fine exactly the way you are. .

Andrea Watcher, a psychotherapist and author says – I have learned that changing my body will not make me feel loved, loving myself will. To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance  and all women and men have the right to accept their body. The shame is on the ones who use that to attack their self esteem.

 

WHY AMLETA CREATES SOMETHING

Art is his need. An instinctive need to create. An instinctive need to be and communicate one’s being to others. Affirming its existence with the creative act is the only way for Amleta to live. Feeling such a force within oneself, an energy, an immense explosion, a storm that never settles down. A sea that is always stormy to its depths. Being a river in flood, dangerous for others, not accustomed to strong liquid currents, but a natural and splendid element for her. Art is its power. The power to create from nothing. To give life to what has never existed, which has never been seen, which has never been read. A sublime, divine, most envied power. Art feeds on souls. Art is insatiable, it is its fierce demon, and it has walked this path all its life looking for an escape. But you never get rid of art because only art makes it free and alive. It is like a second skin and if you take it off you become skinned and you cannot live anymore. Amleta has art in every cell, like a deadly virus, which never becomes a disease but which accompanies it throughout its life as a faithful travel companion. Art grinds the flesh, the spirit, the whole life. He raises it in the highest sky, being able to see without eyes, hear without ears, draw without using his fingers; and then makes it descend into the most terrible depths of the human abyss. Art is a miracle of life and death. Whoever possesses the gift is condemned to a parallel life. Amleta goes in and out as if from a window. She enters and exits herself, feeds herself to the pigs, gives her vital breath, remains in pieces and then begins again. Who would ever want such a life? Yet many envy it and do not know what it means to have the fire of inspiration that consumes! Art is its condemnation. She didn’t choose to start drawing, then painting, writing and playing at the same time. A dark force took his hands, and guided his dark energy. He was thus able to empty the pain he felt while living and to enclose it within his creations. Nothing remains of that period: everything burned. Unfortunately, something was saved from his subsequent dark periods, still not gone and up in smoke. Hamlet was born on a cursed island, in a sick country, and soon she got rid of her life and the pain took her far away, where she continued to suffer and create, create and destroy, herself, paintings, installations, plays, notebooks, sculptures, … Amleta creates and destroys what he creates. Hamlet is and is not at the same time. He yearns for this perennial creation and has tried several times to free himself from his prison without success. This gift, this power, this torment of colors and words, is the nectar of his days. Everything else is just a bitter side dish.

I WAS A TOMBOY

The trouble is this. See how life goes. You see that working does not bring happiness. Not even love gives happiness. Neither are friendships. And neither does the money. So what’s the use of all this play? Adaptation to society. From an early age they tell us that we are here and we must do as they tell us to do. And we all to obey. Whoever escapes is lost. Lost or free? Boh. Freedom always has a price. But in the meantime we are in a cage like lions and have to be content with this stupid survival? I am tired. I have been protesting for many years, since high school, and giving advice through my blog, but I see that very few people are interested. They also don’t even know what zero waste is. Especially young people who use the web are not interested in things related to the climate. Or they say they do but then buy items that produce non-recyclable waste. I grew up in a family where my parents tried to reuse anything.
I’m italian. I used to dress like a boy until I was 22. I had been abused at 4 years old. So I didn’t accept my female body. I wanted to be a boy because I was afraid of being raped again. This fear caused a lot of shame in me. I always covered my breasts. I crushed it. I didn’t want to have a female body because I knew that men only love it as an object to own. Many years have passed and I am very different. I have long hair, I wear makeup and I always dress like a woman. But men have not changed at all.

WOMEN ARTISTS AND RIGHTS

Louise Bourgeois – Femme Maison, 1946-47

Feminism’s most powerful tool for transmitting the message was surely art, in all its forms. It is true that women were present in art history both as artists and models, but only the latter is widespread and offers plenty of information, while the former barely stands ground. It was the men who painted women, often objectifying and misinterpreting them, and the topic seems to be more than recurrent.

While there’s no doubt some of them are world’s greatest artworks, it was time to bring to light also the achievements of women in the field, and to do it now.

https://www.widewalls.ch/magazine/how-art-fought-for-womens-rights-feature-2015

WHY DO MEN ALLOW THAT?

Who we are? 
We are the ones who swallow 
tears in silence instead of 
sleeping. We swallow very 
bitter toads and sorrows 
that take away our hearts.
 We are the ones who must 
always resist and keep 
the hut upright.
 I am very tired of seeing 
that the years pass and women 
are still not adequately 
evaluated for what they 
do at home or away from home. 
I'm tired of men who want 
super-perfect and fascinating 
superhero women.
 I'm tired of hearing that so 
many women die every day and
 no man does anything.

why men do nothing to 
eliminate violence against 
women?
Yet they have mothers, sisters,
 wives, daughters, grandchildren. 
Why don't they struggle to prevent 
a woman from suffering or being 
killed?
Why don't they actively participate?

WOMEN HANDICRAFT

some years ago I believed that
 female creativity and craftsmanship
 could give me satisfaction and help me
 with my family expenses. but afterwards
 I realized that I and all the other 
women we created all those beautiful 
things we were destined not to sell
 nullaxe and not to have any profit. 
the reason? the other women bought
 branded items, branded bags, branded 
clothes and branded jewels. 
all things produced in factories 
where donbe are exploited themselves.
 but it didn't matter that we said 
that female creativity is important.
 every artisan who had a blog closed 
it after a while. every creative woman
 looked for a job in the factory. 
husbands and boyfriends believed and 
still believe that female craftsmanship 
has no market. and they are right. 
in fact many artisans have stopped 
creating. I'm throwing everything out
 today. because this company does not 
value women's manual skills. 
I'm tired of being considered unproductive.
( things in the basket are my creativity stuff and now I'm

I'm throwing them in the garbage)
)

SAVE WOMEN