Blaming the transits for my dark thoughts is fun 🙂 And I had written a cranky dark post this morning on my phone and although I’m feeling less cranky and dark now, I think I’ll post it anyway:
Last night a certain male friend of mine informed me that “women are sex objects” and that it was God’s fault for making me this way. There was, of course, a context to this remark, a long story, and then he insisted that he was only teasing. He loves loves loves to tease me. And I fall for it every time.
Still, it made me think. I’ve never thought of myself as a sex object. Why would I? I’m a subject. Visions of film theory class (undergrad) danced through my head, Laura Mulvey, The Male Gaze, et al. I’m out of touch with today’s feminism. All I know is that I’m disturbed by the constant objectification and sexualization of women, and children. There is no privacy anymore. No one is self-conscious. Remember the Garden of Eden story? Adam and Eve are ashamed when they hear God’s voice. They realize they aren’t alone. They realize they are naked. I know I know it’s after they ate from the Tree, which changed things BUT STILL… why… ladies… why do you want every man on the street and on the train to see your wares? Every inch? I don’t fucking get it, not at all. Not judging 🙂 I just. Don’t. Get. It.
And I’m not male-identified either. Not a tomboy. Just never hooked into any male fantasy of what a woman is supposed to be or how she is supposed to look, from virgin to whore and everything in between.
And then on the train, I was thinking… that perhaps my repulsion (to the idea of women’s function in this world as being primarily sexual) comes from childhood experience. That there was a man, when I was a child, who wanted me sexually. Who tried to take me sexually. Imagine the mind of a child, and the world of a child, powerless, choiceless, dependent. I had to stop things from happening that no child (no adult) should have to stop. What power.
Mars, among other things, is sex. Saturn, among other things, is death. Sex is squaring Death in the sky now; it’s applying. Sexual abuse, rape, IS a death. Even if you live.
Saturn was in Libra then, too. And Mars was likely transiting Cancer.
So this is the anniversary of my death. You know what though? It’s good to write about it, good to remember it because… and I don’t know how to finish this sentence because I didn’t realize until a moment ago that even in my prison, i.e. childhood, I protected the innocent (myself) like any Mars in Cancer would.
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