Dear Women. I have tried to love you. I’ve smelled your hair and kissed your shoulder and written poems about your bones. I’ve studied your neck with my fingers for hours. I’ve looked you dead in the eye, shocked into presence by your sight, and said _My God you’re beautiful_ (and I meant that shit too). But not once, not with a single one of you, have I made a dent in your armor. You’re so tenaciously devoted. Married. Committed to being not pretty.
Fantastic, awe-inspiring essay, as usual, from BHJ. But this one struck a nerve, because I share his pain. Women. How on Earth can they not see it? They are goddesses. Each and every one of them. It breaks my heart, seeing such wonderful creatures buckle under the pressure of a stupid society that has long lost its mind.
How on Earth can they not see it?