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
[…]
résiste, camarade
compagne de combat
la montagne nous attend
et avec tous « les insurgés »
tous les innocents
et tous ceux qui veulent
relever l’affront
ne pleure pas camarade
femme
oublie ta douleur
ta résistance
est celle
d’une palestinienne
qui lutte pour Jérusalem (53)
La represión de la sexualidad femenina desaguaba en el ansia de confidencia, de lágrimas compartidas. Por eso se idealizaba al ‘hombre atormentado’. Enamorarse era, en cierto modo, tener acceso a la naturaleza de esos presuntos tormentos varoniles, rodeados siempre de cierto misterio. (p. 149)
—¿Y por qué era pecado ser liberal?
—Porque les daba la gana a ellos y le armaban a uno un bochinche en el confesionario y yo un día me levanté y le dije al cura que no volvería a la iglesia como ellos siguieran con esa falta de caridad [...] una cosa es Cristo y otra los liberales. (Ángel, 92)
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.