Sunday, July 25, 2010

Selections From Our Femdom & Feminist Readings Event

We had some wonderful readings earlier today at the Femdom & Feminist Reading event. Find the selections below. It truly was moving to hear them all read aloud. Thank you to all of our fantastic readers.

Every Woman Deserves A Poem
By Dawna Markova
Read By Destiny Teardrop

I want to tell you how beautiful you are
In such a true and unforgettable way
That you will never doubt it again.
It will be as though through the lens of
the poem you will suddenly see: yourself.
Truly the whole of you, naked.

It will be as though you are walking alone
In the woods when a great blue heron lifts
Into the air, or a single wild orchid blooms,
Or the moon shines down on still water,
And it is enough. Your heart stops.
You are left grateful, simply for being alive.

It will be your own beauty this time
Taking you so suddenly and by surprise,
The mysterious beauty of your entire life
Carefully inscribed in your body.

It will be as though the poem becomes
Your dream lover, caresses your skin
With absolute tenderness, lights up
With its touch every cell in your body,
Enters you with a gasp of astonished
Desire, plunges deep into the secret
At the center of who you are.

Witch
By Jean Tepperman
Read By Madeleine Broome

They told me
I smile prettier with my mouth closed.
They said--
better cut your hair--
long, it's all frizzy,
looks Jewish.
They hushed me in restaurants
looking around them
while the mirrors above the table
jeered infinite reflections
of a raw, square face.
They questioned me
when I sang in the street.
They stood taller at tea
smoothly explaining
my eyes on the saucers,
trying to hide the hand grenade
in my pants pocket,
or crouched behind the piano.
They mocked me with magazines
full of breasts and lace,
published in their triumph
when the doctor's oldest son
married a nice sweet girl.
They told me tweed-suit stories
of various careers of ladies.
I woke up at night
afraid of dying.
They built screens and room dividers
to hide unsightly desire
sixteen years old
raw and hopeless
they buttoned me into dresses
covered with pink flowers.
They waited for me to finish
then continued the conversation.
I have been invisible,
weird and supernatural.
I want my black dress.
I want my hair
curling wild around me.
I want my broomstick
from the closet where I hid it.
Tonight I meet my sisters
in the graveyard.
Around midnight
if you stop at a red light
in the wet city traffic,
watch for us against the moon.
We are screaming,
we are flying,
laughing, and won't stop.

Selections From The Women's Bible
By Elizabeth Cady Stanton
Read By Sue Rozen

(note: The Woman's Bible is a two-part book, written by Elizabeth Cady Stanton and a committee of 26 women, and published in 1895 and 1898 to challenge the traditional position of religious orthodoxy that woman should be subservient to man.)

26 And God said, Let us make man in our image after our likeness:

and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl

of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every

creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth 27 So God created man in

his own image, in the image of God created he him: male and female

image, created he them.


28 And God blessed them, and God said unto them, Be fruitful, and

multiply, and replenish the earth, and subdue it; and have dominion

over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over every

living thing that moveth upon the earth.


Here is the sacred historian's first account of the advent of woman; a

simultaneous creation of both sexes, in the image of God. It is evident

from the language that there was consultation in the Godhead, and that

the masculine and feminine elements were equally represented. Scott in

his commentaries says, "this consultation of the Gods is the origin of

the doctrine of the trinity." But instead of three male personages, as

generally presented, a Heavenly Father, Mother, and Son would seem

more rational.


The first step in the elevation of woman to her true position, as an

equal factor in human progress, is the cultivation of the religious

sentiment in regard to her dignity and equality, the recognition by the

rising generation of an ideal Heavenly Mother, to whom their prayers

should be addressed, as well as to a Father.


If language has any meaning, we have in these texts a plain

declaration of the existence of the feminine element in the Godhead,

equal in power and glory with the masculine. The Heavenly Mother and

Father! "God created man in his own image, male and female." Thus

Scripture, as well as science and philosophy, declares the eternity

and equality of sex—the philosophical fact, without which there could

have been no perpetuation of creation, no growth or development in the

animal, vegetable, or mineral kingdoms, no awakening nor progressing in

the world of thought. The masculine and feminine elements, exactly

equal and balancing each other, are as essential to the maintenance of

the equilibrium of the universe as positive and negative electricity,

the centripetal and centrifugal forces, the laws of attraction which

bind together all we know of this planet whereon we dwell and of the

system in which we revolve.


In the great work of creation the crowning glory was realized, when

man and woman were evolved on the sixth day, the masculine and feminine

forces in the image of God, that must have existed eternally, in all

forms of matter and mind. All the persons in the Godhead are

represented in the Elohim the divine plurality taking counsel in regard

to this last and highest form of life. Who were the members of this

high council, and were they a duality or a trinity? Verse 27 declares

the image of God male and female. How then is it possible to make woman

an afterthought? We find in verses 5-16 the pronoun "he" used. Should

it not in harmony with verse 26 be "they," a dual pronoun? We may

attribute this to the same cause as the use of "his" in verse 11

instead of "it." The fruit tree yielding fruit after "his" kind instead

of after "its" kind. The paucity of a language may give rise to many

misunderstandings.


The above texts plainly show the simultaneous creation of man and

woman, and their equal importance in the development of the race. All

those theories based on the assumption that man was prior in the

creation, have no foundation in Scripture.

As to woman's subjection, on which both the canon and the civil law

delight to dwell, it is important to note that equal dominion is given

to woman over every living thing, but not one word is said giving man

dominion over woman.


Here is the first title deed to this green earth giving alike to the

sons and daughters of God. No lesson of woman's subjection can be

fairly drawn from the first chapter of the Old Testament

***


Commentary on the “Garden of Eden, temptation by the Serpent” story:

Note the significant fact that we always hear of the "fall of man,"

not the fall of woman, showing that the consensus of human thought has

been more unerring than masculine interpretation. Reading this

narrative carefully, it is amazing that any set of men ever claimed

that the dogma of the inferiority of woman is here set forth. The

conduct of Eve from the beginning to the end is so superior to that of

Adam. The command not to eat of the fruit of the tree of Knowledge was

given to the man alone before woman was formed. Genesis ii, 17.

Therefore the injunction was not brought to Eve with the impressive

solemnity of a Divine Voice, but whispered to her by her husband and

equal. It was a serpent supernaturally endowed, a seraphim as Scott and

other commentators have claimed, who talked with Eve, and whose words

might reasonably seem superior to the second-hand story of her

companion nor does the woman yield at once. She quotes the command not

to eat of the fruit to which the serpent replies "Dying ye shall not

die," v. 4, literal translation. In other words telling her that if the

mortal body does perish, the immortal part shall live forever, and

offering as the reward of her act the attainment of Knowledge.

Then the woman fearless of death if she can gain wisdom takes of the

fruit; and all this time Adam standing beside her interposes no word of

objection. "Her husband with her" are the words of v. 6. Had he been

the representative of the divinely appointed head in married life, he

assuredly would have taken upon himself the burden of the discussion

with the serpent, but no, he is silent in this crisis of their fate.

Having had the command from God himself he interposes no word of

warning or remonstrance, but takes the fruit from the hand of his wife

without a protest. It takes six verses to describe the "fall" of

woman, the fall of man is contemptuously dismissed in a line and a half.

The subsequent conduct of Adam was to the last degree dastardly. When

the awful time of reckoning comes, and the Jehovah God appears to

demand why his command has been disobeyed, Adam endeavors to shield

himself behind the gentle being he has declared to be so dear. "The

woman thou gavest to be with me, she gave me and I did eat," he whines—

trying to shield himself at his wife's expense! Again we are amazed

that upon such a story men have built up a theory of their superiority!


Femdom Day Writing

Written and Read By Violet Darkstone


From the time when we are born, we are told how girls should and should not behave, and it's made very clear to us that the rules that society sets down for women are very different than the rules that are set down for men. We're told that girls don't run fast, we don't climb trees, we don't talk back, and to dream of growing up to be president is something that just can't be taken seriously. In order to be beautiful, we must be as thin and svelte as the models that are portrayed to us in magazines. And, even in this day and age, we are expected to be demure in our sexuality.


And yet, every day at the Dominion, and other femdom sims throughout sl, I see women who have dared to step outside of the box that we were told that we must fit into as we were growing up. Women who have claimed their own power and their own sexuality and who proudly call themselves Mistress... Domina... Goddess.


For some women, it is still only here in this virtual world that they allow themselves the freedom of being the unexpected. For others, it carries over into their first lives and first relationships. But, either way, I know that with every person who allows themselves to see, or to experience or to become a part of a community where women make their own rules and take control of their sexuality.. that the world gains a little more understanding and acceptance.... not just for Dominant women, but for all of us who dare to be something different.


During this weekend of celebrating Dominant women, I want to encourage each and every one of you to remember that it is up to us to teach our daughters and our grand daughters that they can forge their own paths and become who and what they want in their hearts to be.. not just in their professional lives, but in their personal relationships as well. It is up to us to teach them that there can be pride in being different and that beauty is more than skin deep.


Helen Of Troy Does Countertop Dancing

By Margaret Atwood

Read By Evangeline Eames


The world is full of women

who'd tell me I should be ashamed of myself

if they had the chance. Quit dancing.

Get some self-respect

and a day job.

Right. And minimum wage,

and varicose veins, just standing

in one place for eight hours

behind a glass counter

bundled up to the neck, instead of

naked as a meat sandwich.

Selling gloves, or something.

Instead of what I do sell.

You have to have talent

to peddle a thing so nebulous

and without material form.

Exploited, they'd say. Yes, any way

you cut it, but I've a choice

of how, and I'll take the money.


I do give value.

Like preachers, I sell vision,

like perfume ads, desire

or its facsimile. Like jokes

or war, it's all in the timing.

I sell men back their worse suspicions:

that everything's for sale,

and piecemeal. They gaze at me and see

a chain-saw murder just before it happens,

when thigh, ass, inkblot, crevice, tit, and nipple

are still connected.

Such hatred leaps in them,

my beery worshippers! That, or a bleary

hopeless love. Seeing the rows of heads

and upturned eyes, imploring

but ready to snap at my ankles,

I understand floods and earthquakes, and the urge

to step on ants. I keep the beat,

and dance for them because

they can't. The music smells like foxes,

crisp as heated metal

searing the nostrils

or humid as August, hazy and languorous

as a looted city the day after,

when all the rape's been done

already, and the killing,

and the survivors wander around

looking for garbage

to eat, and there's only a bleak exhaustion.

Speaking of which, it's the smiling

tires me out the most.

This, and the pretence

that I can't hear them.

And I can't, because I'm after all

a foreigner to them.

The speech here is all warty gutturals,

obvious as a slab of ham,

but I come from the province of the gods

where meanings are lilting and oblique.

I don't let on to everyone,

but lean close, and I'll whisper:

My mother was raped by a holy swan.

You believe that? You can take me out to dinner.

That's what we tell all the husbands.

There sure are a lot of dangerous birds around.


Not that anyone here

but you would understand.

The rest of them would like to watch me

and feel nothing. Reduce me to components

as in a clock factory or abattoir.

Crush out the mystery.

Wall me up alive

in my own body.

They'd like to see through me,

but nothing is more opaque

than absolute transparency.

Look--my feet don't hit the marble!

Like breath or a balloon, I'm rising,

I hover six inches in the air

in my blazing swan-egg of light.

You think I'm not a goddess?

Try me.

This is a torch song.

Touch me and you'll burn.


Phenomenal Woman

By Maya Angelou

Read By Destiny Teardrop


Pretty women wonder where my secret lies

I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size

But when I start to tell them

They think I'm telling lies.

I say,

It's in the reach of my arms

The span of my hips,

The stride of my step,

The curl of my lips.

I'm a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That's me.


I walk into a room

Just as cool as you please,

And to a man,

The fellows stand or

Fall down on their knees.

Then they swarm around me,

A hive of honey bees.

I say,

It's the fire in my eyes

And the flash of my teeth,

The swing of my waist,

And the joy in my feet.

I'm a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That's me.


Men themselves have wondered

What they see in me.

They try so much

But they can't touch

My inner mystery.

When I try to show them,

They say they still can't see.

I say

It's in the arch of my back,

The sun of my smile,

The ride of my breasts,

The grace of my style.

I'm a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That's me.


Now you understand

Just why my head's not bowed.

I don't shout or jump about

Or have to talk real loud.

When you see me passing

It ought to make you proud.

I say,

It's in the click of my heels,

The bend of my hair,

The palm of my hand,

The need of my care,

'Cause I'm a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That's me