polytechnique

I don't usually post in the morning, but I woke up early this morning because I forgot to set my alarm. Good thing my brain is looking out for me. It is currenly pitch black out, as dark as midnight. Probably the grey pre-dawn will begin in about half an hour.

I'm sitting here in my kitchen, waiting for the kettle to boil so I can have an a-typical cup of tea. There, it's steeping. I'm thinking about Montréal, and the massacre of women that took place there in 1989. I was eleven. The murder of those 14 women simply because they were women in a man's world changed my life I think. It is one of the first times in my life that I remember being outraged and terrified at the same time. It made me want to do things that women weren't supposed to do. Perhaps we could say that is the day I became a feminist. Or maybe the day I realized that it was necessary, or the day that I realized that I already was... I felt that injustice and helplessness so strongly. Perhaps it took something like that to help us, women in a privileged world, to better understand the plight of millions of women in other, far more oppressed places than this. Unveil some solidarity with women under veils, silent, in danger, barred from the kind of life I expect to have.

There goes the morning reverie. Fucking Wingman. What an asshole.