For if a man chooses to be
prom.iscuous,
he may still aesthetically turn up his nose at
prom.iscuity.
He may still demand a woman be faithful to him, to save him from
his own l.ust.
But women have l.ust,
too. Why should they be relegated to the position of custodian of
emotions, watcher of the infants, feeder of soul, body and pride
of man? Being born a woman is my awful tragedy. From the moment I
was conceived I was doomed to sprout breasts and ovaries rather
than p.enis
and sc.rotum;
to have my whole circle of action, thought and feeling rigidly
circumscribed by my inescapable femininity. Yes, my consuming
desire to mingle with road crews, sailors and soldiers, bar room
regulars - to be a part of a scene, anonymous, listening,
recording - all is spoiled by the fact that I am a girl, a female
always in danger of assault and battery. My consuming interest in
men and their lives is often misconstrued as a desire to seduce
them, or as an invitation to intimacy. Yet, God, I want to talk
to everybody I can as deeply as I can. I want to be able to sleep
in an open field, to travel west, to walk freely at
night…
