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Quote by Allyson S. Barkley

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A Vision in Smoke

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Allyson S. Barkley

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“For power to be withdrawn, power itself would have to be understood as the retractable operation of volition; indeed, the heterosexual contract would be understood to be sustained through a series of choices, just as the social contract in Locke or Rousseau is understood to presuppose the rational choice or deliberate will of those it is said to govern. If power is not reduced to volition, however, and the classical liberal and existential model of freedom is refused, then power relations can be understood, as I think they ought to be, as constraining and constituting the very possibilities of volition. Hence, power can neither be withdrawn nor refused, but only redeployed.”

“As feminism has sought to become integrally related to struggles against racial and colonialist oppression, it has become increasingly important to resist the colonizing epistemological strategy that would subordinate different configurations of domination under the rubric of a transcultural notion of patriarchy.”

“Further, although pornography is predefined as a form of violence against women, several clauses of this definition have nothing to do with such abuse. Instead, they deal with explicit sexual content-e.g. women as sex objects who "invite penetration." This is more of an attack on heterosexual sex than it is on pornography. After all, if there isn't an "invitation to penetration," how can the man know that consent is present?”

“You dare offend us when you need our help?” It was Louana again, her gaze turned bitter. “You aren’t offended,” Margeaux replied. “You’re putting on a show in hopes of tricking me into submission.” She gave them a well-practiced smile, flashing her teeth wide, letting the delight touch every corner of her face except her eyes. Never her eyes. “And I don’t need your help.”

“And women who came from the sea could do anything and be anything. They felt the ceaselessness of the tides, knew the crash of the waves, and understood the power of the storms. They carried on because the ocean was infinite, an eternity of pain and wind and sun and hope and beautiful, sparkling horizon. She could tell them about the tiny shack on the outskirts of Aguela, the sound of the waves against her mother’s fishing boat, or the scrape of a good knife against her enemy’s blade under open skies. But none of that meant freedom and power. None of that would the mermaids understand. “These waters that you call home,” she said. “They are my home, too. And it’s about damn time for the tide to rise.”