I’ll never (never.) own the means of production.

by on Nov.06, 2012


It’s election day. Did you vote for my uterus? My uterus is ur uterus, after all!

Recently, on his In Quire, the ever-thoughtful H.L. Hix asked me a question about my third book Iatrogenic, and in my answer, I said:

As I’m typing, I’m thinking about this: I accept that my interiority is culturally forged, and not very well forged. […] I’m a breeder who revolts against the body-as-property equations of state and love. Gloria Anzadlúa tells us to develop (or that some of us in that third space will necessarily develop) a “tolerance for ambiguity.” I say, let’s go further. Let’s develop a predilection for ambiguity. Let’s elect it. Let’s become especially skilled at occupying our conflicted terrain, at describing the negative space of the ambiguous by filling in everything around it. This is feminist, which is synonymous with existential or ontological. This is an ontological option that I’m pursuing. Failure abounds. Edification is for the birds. Like an amalgam of my women “Who Chose…” and my Surrogates, I simultaneously choose and am chosen for. I am, and I be-as-constructed. I acknowledge these competing states (though state sounds too static a term). I’ll never (never.) own the means of production, my body, my heart, myself, but I’ll always feel indignant and possessive when someone else—some state entity, some authority or lover—puts claim on them.

I’d like to talk to you about this some more, voters. Meanwhile, bottoms up.

No comments for this entry yet...

Comments are closed.