Best 3209 quotes in «feminism quotes» category

Enseñamos a las chicas a tener vergüenza. "Cierra las piernas." "Tápate." Les hacemos sentir que, por el hecho de nacer mujeres, ya son culpables de algo. Y lo que sucede es que las chicas se convierten en mujeres que no pueden decir que experimentan deseo.

Entonces supe que el coronel... y otros como él tienen sus días contados, porque no han podido destruir el espíritu de esas mujeres.

En todo acto sexual esta implicado lo Otro, y su rostro más habitual es el de la mujer.

Era così che si viveva allora? Vivevamo di abitudini. Come tutti, la maggior parte del tempo. Qualsiasi cosa accade rientra sempre nelle abitudini. Anche questo, ora, è un vivere di abitudini. Vivevamo, come al solito, ignorando. Ignorare non è come non sapere, ti ci devi mettere di buona volontà. Nulla muta istantaneamente: in una vasca da bagno che si riscaldi gradualmente moriresti bollito senza nemmeno accorgertene. C'erano notizie sui giornali, certi giornali, cadaveri dentro rogge o nei boschi, percossi a morte o mutilati, manomesso, così si diceva, ma si trattava di altre donne, e gli uomini che commettevano simili cose erano altri uomini. Non erano gli uomini che conoscevamo. Le storie dei giornali erano come sogni per noi, brutti sogni sognati da altri. Che cose orribili, dicevamo, e lo erano, ma erano orribili senza essere credibili. Erano troppo melodrammatico, avevano una dimensione che non era la dimensione della nostra vita. Noi eravamo la gente di cui non si parlava sui giornali. Vivevamo nei vuoti spazi bianchi ai margini dei fogli e questo ci dava più libertà. Vivevamo negli interstizi tra le storie altrui.

Essa é uma expressão, Sir John - disse Marianne, energicamente -, que eu particularmente detesto. Odeio todos os lugares-comuns com um subentendido picante; e "dar em cima de um homem" ou "fazer uma conquista" são os mais abomináveis de todos. Tendem à grosseria e à vulgaridade, e se a criação de tais expressões pôde alguma vez ser considerada inteligente, o tempo há muito destruiu toda essa engenhosidade.

[Eric Schmidt] explained that only one criterion that mattered when picking a job- fat growth. When companies grow quickly, there are more things to do than there are people to do them. When companies grow more slowly or stop growing, there is less to do and too many people to not be doing them. Politics and stagnation set in, and everyone falters, He told me, "If you're offered a seat on a rocket sip, you don't ask what seat. You just get on.

Es extraño lo lejos que están las mujeres de la realidad. Viven en un mundo propio que jamás ha existido y que nunca podrá existir. Es demasiado hermoso y, si quisieran construirlo, se vendría abajo antes de la primera puesta de sol. Cualquiera de las malditas cosas con las que los hombres llevamos conviviendo sin problemas desde el día de la creación se pondría de por medio y lo desharía en pedazos.

...este cuidado por la reputacion de la castidad es valorado por las mujeres en la misma proporcion en que es desdeñado por los hombres, y los dos extremos son igualmente destructivos par la moralidad

Esto es lo que piensa la gente de la lucha por la igualdad. Que es irrelevante, superflua e inútil. Algo que no vale ni un pedo.

Es una cuestión de actitud, de valentía, de insumisión. Existe una clase de fuerza, que no es ni masculina ni femenina, que impresiona, que enloquece, que da seguridad. Una capacidad de decir que no, de imponer una visión propia de las cosas, de no ocultarse. Me da lo mismo que el héroe lleve falda y tenga dos tetas como melones o que la tenga como un toro y fume puros.

...este cuidado por la reputacion de la castidad es valorado por las mujeres en la misma proporcion en que es desdeñado por los hombres, y los dos extremos son igualmente destructivos para la moralidad

Eu incomodava. Por quê? Simplesmente porque não ficava em casa, como todas as outras... Tinha um restaurante, trabalhava com homens, tratava-os de igual para igual e: estava ganhando dinheiro.

Ethics is the triumph of freedom over facticity.

Eu sentia uma ausência de medo, esse sentimento não existia. Dou minha palavra. Só depois dos ataques mais furiosos um dente cariado me incomodava. E por pouco tempo. Eu me consideraria muito corajosa até hoje, se não tivesse ido a especialistas alguns anos depois da guerra por causa de umas dores constantes, insuportáveis e absolutamente incompreensíveis nos pontos mais variados do meu corpo. Um neuropatologista experiente, depois de perguntar quantos anos eu tinha, ficou admirado: ‘Aos 24 anos seu sistema nervoso vegetativo está completamente destruído! Como vai viver?’ Respondi que ia viver bem. Em primeiro lugar, estava viva!

Even as a child, In-hye had possessed the innate strength of a character necessary to make one's own way in life. As a daughter, as an older sister, as a wife and as a mother, as the owner of a shop, even as an underground passenger on the briefest of journeys, she had always done her best. Through the sheer inertia pf a life lived in this way, she would have been able to conquer everything, even time. If only Yeong-hye hadn't suddenly disappeared last March. If only she hadn't been discovered in the forest that rainy night. If only all of her symptoms hadn't suddenly got worse.

Even beyond the Middle East, the role of the independent women remains as warped as a Lewis Caroll novel. We may control $12 trillion of the world's $184 trillion in annual consumer spending (I read it in Newsweek), and yet our self-worth apparently ccomes in a shampoo bottle ("because you're worth it").

Even bullying was important to Wonder Woman, and in Sensation Comics #23 she stopped a gang who were picking on a young boy, showed the head bully the error of his ways and learned about his home situation, spoke to his father about his abusive tendencies, and then helped the father get a job in a wartime factory. She always took the time to get to the root of the problem.

Even if we all decided to define personhood to include fertilized eggs and embryos and fetuses, they would not have the right to use a woman’s body against her will and at whatever cost to herself. Persons are not entitled to use one another like that: Even if I am the only person in the world who can save my child by donating a kidney, the decision is still mine to make.

Even if you are a woman who achieves the ultimate and becomes like a man, you will still always be like a woman. And as long as womanhood is thought of as something to escape from, something less than manhood, you will be thought less of, too.

Even in my most intimate moments with a man, I am alone.

Even if you had a feminist mother like mine, you still absorbed the messages about our limited future through the pores of your skin…We were baby-making machines, always had been, always would be, and we were supposed to be satisfied with that. The women who were beginning to assert their full and separate humanity were often caricatured as harpies, termagants and shrews.

Even the most egregious captive state, bound and gagged on her damp bunk, felt eerily familiar to her. With nothing to do but lie there and think of things, she reflected that captivity took many different forms. A woman under the domination of her father or husband was as much a prisoner as a hostage on a boat. She had merely traded one form of servitude for another.

Even though it may look like the wicked is gaining ground, God is still in control. We need to pray for our nations, pray for others, pray for forgiveness and mercy over people. We need to love no matter who we are talking to, whether they are Atheist, Moslems, Lesbians, Homosexuals or Pagans. We need to love them and share the love of God with them and not judge and see if we can rebuild our broken nations.

Even though the advocates of feminism gladly use the term to refer to equality between man and woman, the common human brain is not capable of perceiving such equality beyond the gender bias of the very word. It'll be same as using Man to refer to both genders. Hence, the only words suitable in this scenario are Humanism and Human, rather than Feminism and Man.

Even though trauma has a way of becoming the wallpaper of my head, watch me drag the art out of my suffering. Watch me plant seeds down my spine and bloom into a garden of poetry from every horrible thing that has ever happened to me, all the nights my voice turned to cement and I couldn't say anything- Watch me build an empire from the ashes of everything that tried to destroy me.

Even though men have very little interest in wearing women’s clothes, this has not prevented a gigantic industry from arising, dedicated to satisfying women’s desires in fashion. Industries which provide makeup, hair styling, nail polish, hair removal, and weight loss services are similarly “biased” in the direction of females: they disproportionately serve women. These phenomena would be very difficult to understand on the feminist model that female wants are ignored or deprecated in the male’s favor.

Even women deeply committed to the emancipatory promises of modernity were alarmed by the "inappropriateness" of unrelated men and omen socializing in the streets. In the women's press, articles exhorted young men to treat women respectfully in public. Other articles encouraged women to act as their own police and to be more observant of their hijab and public modesty. From the beginning, then, women's entry on the streets was subject to the regulatory harassment of men. The modernist heterosocializing promise that invited women to leave their homosocial spaces and become educated companionate partners for modernist men was underwritten by policing of women's public presence through men's street actions. Men at once desired heterosociality of the modern and yet would not surrender the privileged masculinity of the streets. Women's public presence was also underwritten by disciplinary approbation of modernizing women themselves whose emancipatory drive would be jeopardized by unruly public conduct.

Even with fasting and prayers you still need wisdom. At the root of every great accomplishment is wisdom. In all your getting get wisdom first.

Ever wanted more. After all, women weren’t equal to men. They were better. Certainly not in strength or their skill in killing things, but when it came to propagation women absolutely trounced men. Men could bring some chips to the party, but that shindig was always going down in the belly of a woman. And considering that the hardest part of gathering food now was finding a parking spot, strength and killing things were significantly less high on the list of key survival traits.

Every crisis is a wisdom crisis. If you have no peace around you then you lack wisdom.

Every day that we exist on this planet the forces of white men in power are aimed at policing women's bodies and subjugating our identities to make us feel lesser than, to control us through physical and economic annihilation.

Every generation builds on the work of the last, and pill or no pill, my generation could not have made the strides they have without all the work done by others. The same is true for future generations, although luckily for them the advancement of women is now snowballing. The legacy of the current crop of women over fifty—the accidental feminists—has given a leg up like no other to their daughter and granddaughters, not least through the #MeToo movement.

Every human body has its optimum weight and contour, which only health and efficiency can establish. Whenever we treat women’s bodies as aesthetic objects without function we deform them and their owners. Whether the curves imposed are the ebullient arabesques of the tit-queen or the attenuated coils of art nouveau, they are deformations of the dynamic, individual body, and limitations of the possibilities of being female.

Every man with a vote was considered a foe to woman suffrage unless he was prepared to be actively a friend.

Everyone has a home but me.

Every woman who chooses--joyfully, thoughtfully, calmly, of her own free will and desire--not to have a child does womankind a massive favor in the long term. We need more women who are allowed to prove their worth as people, rather than being assessed merely for their potential to create new people. After all, half of those new people we go on to create are also women--presumably themselves to be judged, in their futures, for not making new people. And so it will go on, and on... While motherhood is an incredible vocation, it has no more inherent worth than a childless woman simply being who she is, to the utmost of her capabilities. To think otherwise betrays a belief that being a thinking, creative, productive, and fulfilled woman is, somehow, not enough. That no action will ever be the equal of giving birth.

Everyone knows what can happen to a woman, on the streets, in their own home, during the safety of the day, in the darkness of night. Yet still, when she dares speak of it, no one believes her.

Every woman knows what I'm talking about when I say girls grow up with a desire to please, to cede their power to other people. . . everyone knows about the sometimes aggressive and manipulative ways men often exert power in the world, and how by using the word empowered to describe women, men are simply maintaining their own power and control.

Every woman, hell, every man should be a feminist, that is the only way to render this word obsolete.

Every woman lives with the constant tinnitus hum of low-level sexism.

Everyone is allowed a weakness, even women of the twentieth century.

Everyone who knows anything of history also knows that great social revolutions are impossible without the feminine ferment. Social progress may be measured precisely by the social position of the fair sex (plain ones included).

Everything that highly educated men can do to obscure a simple truth, to make a woman doubt her feelings, to make her own thoughts a muddle, they do to her. They use their learning as a hurdle to herd her one way and then the other and then finally trap her in contradictions of which she can make no sense.

Every time you rolled your eyes and every little smart remark you made about how silly it was for girls to care about their looks. You refused to let me--or anyone!--like books and silks. Outdoors and cosmetics. You stopped taking me seriously when I stopped being the kind of woman you thought I had to be to be considered intelligent and strong. All those things you say make men take women less seriously--I don't think it's men; it's you. You're not better than any other woman because you like philosophy better than parties and don't give a fig about the company of gentlemen, or because you wear boots instead of heels and don't set your hair in curls.

Every woman is beautiful, but not every woman has someone to tell her that.

Every woman is never enough; she's always too much. We angered someone, somewhere, for our too muchness. If to be too much is to be a witch, then I am a witch, and we are all witches. I told this to the other girls, and I heard them all whisper back yes, because to be a witch means our too muchness serves a purpose: it gives us power.

Eve was framed

Excessive praise arises from the same bigotry matrix as excessive criticism.

Excuse me while I throw this down, I’m old and cranky and tired of hearing the idiocy repeated by people who ought to know better. Real women do not have curves. Real women do not look like just one thing. Real women have curves, and not. They are tall, and not. They are brown-skinned, and olive-skinned, and not. They have small breasts, and big ones, and no breasts whatsoever. Real women start their lives as baby girls. And as baby boys. And as babies of indeterminate biological sex whose bodies terrify their doctors and families into making all kinds of very sudden decisions. Real women have big hands and small hands and long elegant fingers and short stubby fingers and manicures and broken nails with dirt under them. Real women have armpit hair and leg hair and pubic hair and facial hair and chest hair and sexy moustaches and full, luxuriant beards. Real women have none of these things, spontaneously or as the result of intentional change. Real women are bald as eggs, by chance and by choice and by chemo. Real women have hair so long they can sit on it. Real women wear wigs and weaves and extensions and kufi and do-rags and hairnets and hijab and headscarves and hats and yarmulkes and textured rubber swim caps with the plastic flowers on the sides. Real women wear high heels and skirts. Or not. Real women are feminine and smell good and they are masculine and smell good and they are androgynous and smell good, except when they don’t smell so good, but that can be changed if desired because real women change stuff when they want to. Real women have ovaries. Unless they don’t, and sometimes they don’t because they were born that way and sometimes they don’t because they had to have their ovaries removed. Real women have uteruses, unless they don’t, see above. Real women have vaginas and clitorises and XX sex chromosomes and high estrogen levels, they ovulate and menstruate and can get pregnant and have babies. Except sometimes not, for a rather spectacular array of reasons both spontaneous and induced. Real women are fat. And thin. And both, and neither, and otherwise. Doesn’t make them any less real. There is a phrase I wish I could engrave upon the hearts of every single person, everywhere in the world, and it is this sentence which comes from the genius lips of the grand and eloquent Mr. Glenn Marla: There is no wrong way to have a body. I’m going to say it again because it’s important: There is no wrong way to have a body. And if your moral compass points in any way, shape, or form to equality, you need to get this through your thick skull and stop with the “real women are like such-and-so” crap. You are not the authority on what “real” human beings are, and who qualifies as “real” and on what basis. All human beings are real. Yes, I know you’re tired of feeling disenfranchised. It is a tiresome and loathsome thing to be and to feel. But the tit-for-tat disenfranchisement of others is not going to solve that problem. Solidarity has to start somewhere and it might as well be with you and me

(Ezekial saw the wheel (Way up in the middle of the air -- (O Ezekial saw the wheel (Way in the middle of the air! (Now the big wheel runs by faith (And the little wheel runs by the grace of God -- (The above made up by professional hope experts, you might say, because willful, voluntary, intentional hope was the only kind they had in anything like long supply. Faith is not, contrary to the usual ideas, something that turns out to be right or wrong, like a gambler's bet; it's an act, an intention, a project, something that makes you, in leaping into the future, go so far, far, far ahead that you shoot clean out of Time and right into Eternity, which is not the end of time or a whole lot of time or unending time, but timelessness, that old Eternal Now. So that you end up living not in the future ((in your intentional "act of faith")) but in the present. After all. (Courage is willful hope.)