Now Playing Tracks

History and Picong by Derek Walcott (an excerpt)

“How can the history of this West Indian futility be written?” Mr. Naipaul writes: “What tone shall the historian adopt? The history of the island can never be satisfactorily told. Brutality is not the only difficulty. History is built around achievement and creation: and nothing was created in the West Indies…” Nothing? Come, come, Naipaul. V.S., know your literature, how about “A House for Mr. Biswas?”

“Sir, that book was not created in the West Indies.”
“Where was it created?”
“In England, sir.”
“My apologies, again. You may sit down, Naipaul. And don’t smile before ah make George Lamming hold you!”

Women still buy sanitary towels with enormous discretion, and carry their handbags to the loo when they only need to carry a napkin. They still recoil at the idea of intercourse during menstruation, and feel that the blood they shed is of a special kind, although perhaps not so special as was thought when it was the liquid presented to the devil in witches’ loving cups. If you think you are emancipated, you might consider the idea of tasting your menstrual blood—if it makes you sick, you’ve a long way to go, baby.
Germaine Greer, The Female Eunuch 
To Tumblr, Love Pixel Union