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Quote by Nnedi Okorafor

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The Book of Phoenix

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Author

Nnedi Okorafor
Nnedi Okorafor

Nnedi Okorafor is a Nigerian-American science fiction and fantasy writer known for her works that blend African mythology with science fiction elements. Her writing spans various genres, including young adult literature, adult fiction, and short story collections. more

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“In his whole presentation, it never emerges that women are different beings – we will not say lesser, rather the opposite from men. He finds the suppression of women an analogy to that of Negroes. Any girl, even without a suffrage or legal competence, whose hand a man kisses and for whose love he is prepared to dare all, could have set him right. It is really a stillborn thought to send women into the struggle for existence exactly as man. If, for instance, I imagined my gentle sweet girl as a competitor, it would only end in my telling her, as I did seventeen months ago, that I am fond of her and that I implore her to withdraw from the strife into the calm, uncompetitive activity of my home. It is possible that changes in upbringing may suppress all a woman’s tender attributes, needful of protection and yet so victorious, and that she can then earn a livelihood like men. It is also possible that in such an event one would not be justified in mourning the passing away of the most delightful thing the world can offer us – our ideal of womanhood. I believe that all reforming action in law and education would break down in front of the fact that, long before the age at which a man can earn a position in society, Nature has determined woman’s destiny through beauty, charm, and sweetness. Law and custom have much to give women that has been withheld from them, but the position of women will surely be what it is: in youth an adored darling and in mature years a loved wife.”

MenWomen
Book:The Complete Letters of Sigmund Freud to Wilhelm Fliess 1887-04
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“I wonder if there is a time in every woman's life when she feels like swallowing stones. Perhaps she wonders why her period is late or wakes up in an unfamiliar bed, or comes across a list of her body parts neatly divided into numbers. Does it make her want to swallow stones? Large, smooth ones, gulping them down. I imagine them settling into my stomach, a pile, then walking into a pond, not to die, but to sink the body, while only my spirit emerges from the water. Much cleaner, I could start over, unencumbered.”

WomenSurvival
Book:Know My Name
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“Margarita scanned the crowd coming up the stairs and found the woman Korovyov was pointing to. She was a young woman of about twenty, with an unusually stunning figure, but with agitated and insistent eyes. "What handkerchief?" asked Margarita. "She has a chambermaid assigned to her," explained Korovyov, "and every night for thirty years the maid has laid out a handkerchief for her on her night table. The minute she wakes up she sees it there. She's tried burning it in the stove and drowning it in the river, but nothing helps. "What kind of handkerchief?" whispered Margarita, raising and lowering her hand. "A handkerchief with a dark-blue border. The fact is that when she was a waitress in a cafe, her boss lured her into the storeroom one day, and nine months later she gave birth to a baby boy, carried him into the woods, stuffed the handkerchief in his mouth, and then buried him in the ground. At her trial she said she had nothing to feed the child." "And where's the owner of the cafe?" asked Margarita. "Your Majesty," squeaked the cat suddenly from below." Allow me to ask you: what does the owner have to do with this? he wasn't the one who smothered the baby in the woods!”

WomenSinRussiaAbortionWomen RightsAbortion Rights
Book:The Master and Margarita / A Young Doctor's Notebook / The White Guard / A Dog's Heart
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“SONG OF ONE OF THE GIRLS Here in my heart I am Helen; I’m Aspasia and Hero, at least. I’m Judith, and Jael, and Madame de Staël; I’m Salomé, moon of the East. Here in my soul I am Sappho; Lady Hamilton am I, as well. In me Récamier vies with Kitty O’Shea, With Dido, and Eve, and poor Nell. I’m of the glamorous ladies At whose beckoning history shook. But you are a man, and see only my pan, So I stay at home with a book.”

Women
Book:Enough Rope
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