Archive for the Eve Ensler Category

Our Good Bodies…

Posted in Books, Eve Ensler, Personal ramblings on April 12, 2008 by boychick1

She kept groaning out “you’re so fucking hot” over and over and my head left the moment. I left, not literally but I left because it was over the top. Not literally over the top (well at times but I digress). But I flipped, left the building as I have not thought of myself that way, say it to me and I tend to not believe you. I try to have a good self image and am finally getting there – that place where you feel good about your body, attractive…it has only taken 45 years.

Having said that – when I first read Eve Ensler’s brilliant book “The Good Body” – I finished it, started over and the next day went to the bookstore to buy six or more copies. It became a gift for everyone who mattered to me, empowerment in a slim little volume.

I read blogs (lots of them) and I hear us attacking ourselves, how we look, how our bodies work or do not work. We are at war with our physical selves, instead of in a place of gratitude and peace. I think of my niece a beautiful young girl with anorexia – I grow very sad.

Here’s a passage from “The Good Body” may it inspire you to be grateful, to be at peace, make good choices (too many of us queer folk spend our lives addicted to destructive behavior) – or to just go buy the damn book, then buy a dozen more copies…and spread it around.

(you are all so fucking hot)

From the chapter entitled “Leah”

Leah, a 74 year old African Masai Woman

Leah: Do I like my body? Do I like my body? My body. My body. I love my body. God made this body. God gave me this body. My body. Oh goodness, I love my body. My fingers, look at my fingers. I love my fingernails, little crescent moons. My hands, my hands, the way they flutter in the air and fall, they lead right up to my arms- so strong-they carry things along- I love my arms – and my legs, my legs are long, Masai people, we are tall, I get there fast, my legs can wrap around a man and hold him there. My breasts…My breasts, well look at them, they’re mine, my breasts still round and full and fine.

Eve: Leah, wait, I don’t know how to do this. I want to feel like you. I want to love my body and stop hating my stomach.

Leah: What’s wrong with it?

Eve: It’s round. It used to be flat.

Leah: It’s your stomach. It’s meant to be seen. Eve, look at that tree? Do you see that tree? Now look at that tree. (points to another tree) Do you like that tree? Do you hate that tree ’cause it doesn’t look like that tree?

Do you say the tree isn’t pretty ’cause it doesn’t look like that tree? We’re all trees. You’re a tree. I’m a tree. You’ve got to love your body, Eve. You’ve got to love your tree. Love your tree.


Around The Web – the bad, the dumb, the pondscummy…

Posted in Eve Ensler, Feminist Issues, Human Rights on February 24, 2008 by boychick1

Articles of Faith: Ridiculing gay man is hateful way to preach.

Time For Bill O’ Racist To Resign In Disgrace

V-Bombs and Sex-ed Fights: Vaginas in the News

Vaginas, V-Day and Anti-Violence Activism: Three Things Conservatives Wish Would Dissapear

On Insecurity.

Posted in Eve Ensler, Human Rights, Politics on December 30, 2007 by boychick1

The introduction from “Insecure At Last” by Eve Ensler. Progressive thinking for our security obsessed world – great book, highly recommend it.

Introduction from: Insecure at Last
Eve Ensler

I am worried about this word, this notion – security. I see this word, hear this word, feel this word everywhere. Security check. Security Watch. Security clearance. Why has all this focus on security made me feel so much more insecure? What does anyone mean when they speak of security? Why are we suddenly a nation and a people who strive for security above all else?
In fact, security is essentially elusive, impossible. We all die. We all get sick. We all get old. People leave us. People surprise us. People change us. Nothing is secure. And this is the good news. But only if you are not seeking security as the point of your life.
When security is paramount you can’t travel very far or venture too far outside a certain circle. You can’t allow too many conflicting ideas into your mind at one time, as they might confuse you or challenge you. You can’t open yourself to new experiences, new people, and new ways of doing things. They might take you off course.
You can’t not know who you are; it’s more secure to cling to hard-matter identity. So you become a Christian or a Muslim or a Jew, you are an Indian, or an Egyptian or an Italian or an American. You are heterosexual or homosexual or you never have sex or at least that’s what you say when you identify yourself. You become a part of US, and in order to be secure, you must defend against THEM. You cling to your land because it is your secure place, and you must fight anyone who encroaches on it.
You become your nation, you become your religion. You become whatever it is that will freeze you, numb you, and protect you from change or doubt. But all this does is shut down your mind. In reality, you are not a drop safer. A meteor could still fall from the sky, a tsunami could rise up next to your beach house, someone could fly a plane through your building.
All this striving for security has in fact made you much more insecure. Because now you have to watch out all the time. There are people not like you, people you now call enemies. You have places you cannot go, thoughts you cannot think, worlds you can no longer inhabit. So you spend your days fighting things off, defending your territory, and becoming more entrenched in your narrow thinking. Your days become devoted to protecting yourself. This becomes your mission. This is all you do. You collect canned goods or bottles of water. You find ways to get as much money as you can, and food and oil, in spite of how much you have to take from other people or the methods you have to devise in order to take it. You submit to security systems to check your pockets and IDs and bags. Every object becomes a potential weapon. One week it’s tweezers, the next week it’s rubber bands.
Of course you can no longer feel what another person feels because that might shatter your heart, contradict your stereotype, destroy the whole structure. Ideas get shorter-they become sound bites. They are evildoers and saviors. Criminals and victims. There are those who, if they are not with us, are against us.
It gets easier to hurt people because you do not feel what’s inside them. It gets easier to lock them up, force them to be naked, humiliate them, occupy them, invade them, kill them – because they do not exist. They are merely obstacles to your security.
How did we, as Americans, come to be completely obsessed with our individual security and comfort above all else? What do we think we mean when we talk about security, and what do we really mean? Whose security are we talking about? Is it possible to live surrendering to the reality of insecurity, embracing it, allowing it to open us and transform us and be our teacher? What would we need in order to stop panicking, clinging, consuming, and start opening, giving- becoming more ourselves the less secure we realize we actually are? How has the so-called war on terrorism give rise to this mad national obsession for homeland security, which has actually made us much more insecure at home and in the world?

I Am Leaving My Father’s House.

Posted in Eve Ensler, On Poetry on November 30, 2007 by boychick1

Eve Ensler performing her poem “Leaving My Father’s House” from her book Insecure At Last – a fantastic read and very thought provoking, empowering. D honey send the book back please. There are so many difficult things about relationships like getting one’s books back.


I am leaving my father’s house
Stepping out
Stepping off
Free falling outside the confines
Of what is acceptable or known.
I am leaving this cage
Which suppressed
Made less of me
So thoroughly
I came to call it my legacy
My country
My home.
I am leaving those angry men
Whose broken hearts and wounds
Became more painful and urgent
Than my own.
I am not going to be sorry anymore
Or responsible or wrong.
I am not going to give everything
That is mine
And call it yours.
I am going to stop believing
I can wake you up
Or break open your shell
Or get you to feel
Your sorrow your grief
Your tenderness
I am going to stop mainlining my life force
Into your self-esteem:
Air pump girl blowing up boy rubber ball
You can stay flat and go nowhere by yourself.
I am leaving my father’s house
I am not going to whisper anymore or tiptoe
Or lie flat on my back,
I am not ducking, flinching, waiting till you finish
Or whimpering in the dark.
I am moving out.
I am not going back.
I am leaving my father’s house
I no longer believe your lies
About freedom and democracy
That it hurts you more
Than your whips or words or policies hurt me.
I am going to believe what I see:
Bruises on my neck
Floating corpses in the streets
Iraqi women with their voting fingers
Chopped off
Emaciated polar bears
Melting from corporate greed.
I am leaving your guilt-tripping fear-inducing
Evil-projecting idea of me.
I am fleeing your disguised terror of my bigness,
My hunger, my vagina, my compassion,
My tongue.
I am leaving my father’s house
I see how it is punishing spinning
Out insanely in paranoid desperation
Dividing the world into
Evildoers and saints.
I am leaving my father’s house
I do not want a position there
I will not imitate your cold tactics
To get a seat on the floor
I will not leash your prisoners
Or jerk them off
I will not starve your workers
Organize lynch mobs
Or camouflage your crimes
I will not be tits and ass on your arm
Or smile till my face breaks off.
I am leaving my father’s house
Corporate towers
Cathedrals, mosques, and synagogues
Picket-fenced houses and Pentagons.
I am going out
The neighborhoods
Fundamental doctrines
And misinterpreted laws.
Past the reach of your fist
Past the fire breath of your rage
Past the tentacles of your seductive melancholy
Or your unspoken promises to change.
I am willing to be alone, disliked, slandered
And misconstrued
Because my freedom is more important
Than your so-called love.
Because my leaping
Will be the ultimate jumping off
Will be the new beginning
Without a daddy in charge,
On top
In control
Of all the goods, ideas,
Interpretations, and cash.
I am going out there by myself
But I know I will find the rest of you there
Knee-deep in the garden
Hands raised in the water
Way way out past my father’s house.