Lletra de dona es un espacio de publicación y difusión de reseñas de obras escritas por mujeres, dentro de los ámbitos tanto de la creación literaria (narrativa, teatro, poesía, ensayo, autobiografía) como de la teoría crítica
“Mandásteme, señora mía, que contase esta noche un desengaño, para que las damas se avisen de los engaños y cautelas de los hombres, […] siendo mayor entretenimiento decir mal de ellas: pues ni comedia se representa, ni libro se imprime que no sea todo en ofensa de las mujeres, sin que se reserve ninguna.” (p. 124)
“Cuando los cuerpos ocupan espacios que no solían tender a habitar, ocurre algo distinto a la reproducción de los hechos materiales. La esperanza en que la reproducción fracase es la esperanza de nuevas impresiones, de que surjan nuevas líneas, nuevos objetos, o incluso nuevos cuerpos, que se reúnen al juntarse en torno a esta mesa.”
“The archive was an opaque hope, yet it kept slipping away as though it didn’t want to be found, plundered, excavated. It became outright seductive in its evasiveness, and it kept making clear that it didn’t want our masturbatory desire for it” (22).
The strange, the incoherent, that which falls "outside", gives us a way of understanding the taken-for-granted world of sexual categorization as a constructed one, indeed, as one that might well be constructed differently.
And yet, I want to argue that if we are to make broader social and political claims about rights of protection and entitlements to persistence and flourishing, we will first have to be supported by a new bodily ontology, one that implies the rethinking of precariousness, vulnerability, injurability, interdependency, exposure, bodily persistence, desire, work and the claims of language and social belonging.
Oddly, but importantly, if the thesis is right, then the «I» comes into sentient being, even thinking and acting, precisely by being acted on in ways that, from the start, presume that non-voluntary, though volatile field of impressionability. Already undone, or undone from the start, we are formed, and as formed, we come to be always partially undone by what we come to sense and know.
Let's face it. We're undone by each other. And if we're not, we're missing something.