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My First Thirty Years

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Gertrude Beasley

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“[The party] was held at her cousin's house and it lasted for three days. For the duration, they all slept only from dawn to noon and lived on little but oysters and champagne and pastry. Each evening there was music and dancing, and then late in the nights, under a moon growing to full, they went out on the slow water in rowing boats. It was a strange time of war fever, and even young men previously considered dull and charmless suddenly acquired an aura of glamour shimmering about them, for they all suspected that shortly many of them would be dead. During those brief days and nights, any man that wished might become somebody's darling.”

LovePartySouthern Belle
Book:Cold Mountain
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“[Scarlett] knew how to smile so that her dimples leaped, how to walk pigeon-toed so that her wide hoop skirts swayed entrancingly, how to look up into a man's face and then drop her eyes and bat the lids rapidly so that she seemed a-tremble with gentle emotion. Most of all she learned how to conceal from men a sharp intelligence beneath a face as sweet and bland as a baby's. Ellen, by soft admonition, . . . labored to inculcate in her the qualities that would make her truly desirable as a wife. "You must be more gentle, dear, more sedate," Ellen told her daughter. "You must not interrupt gentlemen when they are speaking, even if you do think you know more about matters than they do. Gentlemen do not like forward girls." [Ellen] taught her all that a gentlewoman should know, but she learned only the outward signs of gentility. The inner grace from which these signs should spring, she never learned nor did she see any reason for learning it. Appearances were enough, for the appearances of ladyhood won her popularity and that was all she wanted. . . . At sixteen, thanks to Mammy and Ellen, she looked sweet, charming and giddy, but she was, in reality, self-silled, vain and obstinate. She had the easily stirred passions of her Irish father and nothing except the thinnest veneer of her mother's unselfish and forbearing nature. . . It was not that these two loving mentors deplored Scarlett's high spirits, vivacity and charm. These were traits of which Southern women were proud. It was Gerald's headstrong and impetuous nature in her that gave them concern, and they sometimes feared they would not be able to conceal her damaging qualities until she had made a good match. But Scarlett intended to marry-and marry Ashley-and she was willing to appear demure, pliable and scatterbrained, if those were the qualities that attracted men. Just why men should be this way, she did not know. She only knew that such methods worked. It never interested her enough to try to think out the reason for it, for she knew nothing of the inner workings of any human being's mind, not even her own. She knew only that if she did or said thus-and-so, men would unerringly respond with the complementary thus-and-so. It was like a mathematical formula and no more difficult . . . If she knew little about men's minds, she knew even less about the minds of women, for they interested her less. She had never had a girl friend, and she never felt any lack on that account. To her, all women, including her two sisters, were natural enemies in pursuit of the same prey-man.”

WomanhoodFemininitySouthern BelleSouthern Gentility
Book:Gone with the wind
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“Is she pretty?” That would be a hell yes. Big soft eyes, full pink lips. Legs and tight skirts. And those damn cowboy boots. And the yoga pants and bra top she wore sailing. Long blond hair—-at least he thought it was long; she always kept it wound up and clipped in a messy bun. He’d dated white girls before, a time or two. But never someone that white, from Texas. Or that young. She was what, fifteen years younger, at least. An itty-bitty thing who could throw a grown man to the ground. “Yeah,” he said. “She’s real pretty.”

Beautiful WomanSouthern Belle
Book:Sugar and Salt
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“We have a predator that came from the depths of the cosmos and took over the rule of our lives. Human beings are its prisoners. The Predator is our lord and master. It has rendered us docile, helpless. If we want to protest, it suppresses our protest. If we want to act independently, it demands that we don't do so... I have been beating around the bush all this time, insinuating to you that something is holding us prisoner. Indeed we are held prisoner! "This was an energetic fact for the sorcerers of ancient Mexico ... They took us over because we are food for them, and they squeeze us mercilessly because we are their sustenance. just as we rear chickens in chicken coops, the predators rear us in human coops, humaneros. Therefore, their food is always available to them." "No, no, no, no," [Carlos replies] "This is absurd don Juan. What you're saying is something monstrous. It simply can't be true, for sorcerers or for average men, or for anyone." "Why not?" don Juan asked calmly. "Why not? Because it infuriates you? ... You haven't heard all the claims yet. I want to appeal to your analytical mind. Think for a moment, and tell me how you would explain the contradictions between the intelligence of man the engineer and the stupidity of his systems of beliefs, or the stupidity of his contradictory behaviour. Sorcerers believe that the predators have given us our systems of belief, our ideas of good and evil, our social mores. They are the ones who set up our hopes and expectations and dreams of success or failure. They have given us covetousness, greed, and cowardice. It is the predators who make us complacent, routinary, and egomaniacal." "'But how can they do this, don Juan? [Carlos] asked, somehow angered further by what [don Juan] was saying. "'Do they whisper all that in our ears while we are asleep?" "'No, they don't do it that way. That's idiotic!" don Juan said, smiling. "They are infinitely more efficient and organized than that. In order to keep us obedient and meek and weak, the predators engaged themselves in a stupendous manoeuvre stupendous, of course, from the point of view of a fighting strategist. A horrendous manoeuvre from the point of view of those who suffer it. They gave us their mind! Do you hear me? The predators give us their mind, which becomes our mind. The predators' mind is baroque, contradictory, morose, filled with the fear of being discovered any minute now." "I know that even though you have never suffered hunger... you have food anxiety, which is none other than the anxiety of the predator who fears that any moment now its manoeuvre is going to be uncovered and food is going to be denied. Through the mind, which, after all, is their mind, the predators inject into the lives of human beings whatever is convenient for them. And they ensure, in this manner, a degree of security to act as a buffer against their fear." "The sorcerers of ancient Mexico were quite ill at ease with the idea of when [the predator] made its appearance on Earth. They reasoned that man must have been a complete being at one point, with stupendous insights, feats of awareness that are mythological legends nowadays. And then, everything seems to disappear, and we have now a sedated man. What I'm saying is that what we have against us is not a simple predator. It is very smart, and organized. It follows a methodical system to render us useless. Man, the magical being that he is destined to be, is no longer magical. He's an average piece of meat." "There are no more dreams for man but the dreams of an animal who is being raised to become a piece of meat: trite, conventional, imbecilic.”

ImportantReligionDreamsMagicFoodHumanSlaveryChaosAliensCosmosServiceManipulationSecretsProblemsBeliefsCause And EffectOccultPredatorMind ControlVirusAlienShamanismSorceryMatrixAncient HistoryCognitive DissonanceSorcererAnunnaki
Book:The Active Side of Infinity
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“Naturalmente la distinzione/congiunzione tra essere ed esistenza riguarda tutti gli esseri umani, e la potenziale priorità dell'essere concreto per vivere meglio concerne gli uomini non meno che le donne, seppure con diversi accenti. Nulla vieta a noi maschi - le lettrici e i lettori mi permetteranno questa riflessione di genere, in questo caso maschile - di poter riacquistare una giusta postura al riguardo. Nulla lo vieta se non la stessa terribile scelta millenaria di separazione, di oppressione nei confronti del genere femminile di cui siamo, anche inconsapevolmente protagonisti - e l'inconsapevolezza non è mai stata una scusa per un pensiero virtuoso. Allora, nessun senso di colpa: se proviamo a sentire, a pensare, a volere, a poter vivere diversamente la specie e quindi innanzitutto il genere femminile - per noi maschi significa capirne la positività, provare ad imparare da esso suscitandone gli insegnamenti e quindi, perché ne è un aspetto costitutivo, rispettandolo come genere primo -, se riusciremo in questo miglioreremo noi stessi, liberandoci da tare storiche acquisite, di cui non possiamo essere elettivamente responsabili in prima persona ma che tendiamo a riverberare e perpetuare. Conquistare una visione concreta della specie e dei generi, innanzitutto del genere femminile, vuol dire anche, e con crescente importanza, provare ad elaborare un'ontica e un'ontologia femminile (per ontica intendo il concreto dell'essere e per ontologia la potenzialità dell'essere). Elaborare un'ontica e un'ontologia del genere femminile significa andare alle radici di un'ontica e un'ontologia concretamente intese dell'umanità tutta, e concretamente vuol dire inseparabile dall'esistenza e dal vissuto, inseparabile dalle scelte che si operano, dai valori morali ed etici che si scelgono. E perciò stesso certamente è anche un problema filosofico, e non solo: è un problema di teoresi complessiva, un problema - e un bel problema - della vita.”

VitaMoraleFilosofiaUmanitàScelteEsistenzaEssereConsapevolezzaEticaPatriarcatoEsseri UmaniOppressioneGenereGenere FemminileOntologiaOnticaSenso Di ColpaValori MoraliVissutoVivere MeglioEssere ConcretoInconsapevolezzaOntica FemminileOntologia FemminilePensiero VirtuosoRiflessione Di GenereTare StoricheTeoresiValori Etici
Book:L'origine femminile dell'Umanità. Dialoghi, lezioni, articoli
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