wow, this is a conundrum…where the rubber meets the road, for me. i am a pacifist, a lover of love…a vegetarian, on account of i don’t want blood to spill for me to continue to exist physically. and yet i absolutely love the character of lisbeth salander, heroine of the millenium trilogy of books and movies. lisbeth is a waif of a woman, weighing in at bantam in a world full of heavies. if i was her size, i would never feel safe on this earth. that’s due in part to christian talk radio shows, which played non-stop in my family home, and informed me, at the age of six, that i had a twenty percent chance of NOT being raped sometime in my life. rape is the thing that makes my blood boil, makes me feel justified in dispensing blood sentences…me, the girl who doesn’t believe in bloodshed. i once read a passage in a brett easton ellis novel called ‘imperial bedrooms’, wherein the disaffected male protagonist absentmindedly fists a woman he has kidnapped with a handful of shit. i saw red after reading…imagined this man’s blood painting the surfaces of the room in an elongated act of justified retribution. if you don’t have a vagina, it’s hard to explain the extent of the feeling of violation that’s attached to the unwilling entry of one. it’s so deep, so visceral, so vulnerable…so powerless. if a man treated lisbeth salander in this manner, and didn’t kill her, she would some day come face to face with him, unman him with a knife, shove a rhythmic handful of shit in the gaping hole, and call it even…and that’s what i love about her. so…i call for a world without bloodshed, and yet this animal desire exists inside of me…we are up against it, collectively. it’s the rare human being who can endure injustice and not require an equally unjust act to feel whole again…mercy…
(i fully acknowledge that men get raped too…can’t be any more fun for mouths and assholes. and yes, women can rape men)
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