The necessity of rage

I do not recognize myself in your description, sister. I do not identify as such, not as you define it. I don't feel comfortable with the semantics, depraved of dynamics, differentiation, of meaning as I see it. Your analysis imposing me with guilt, assigning me to that shameful corner of non-existence. Your definition doesn't fit my skin, sister. Can I counterargue: I am not (like that).

But I'm indebted to you, sister, for revealing my true nature, for creating antagonism where I do not see any (patriarchy just scored its second goal).

I love you though, sister, for if you're not enraging me, if you don't turn my thoughts into turmoil, make me feel something, there will not be development. And this is precisely what brings theory forward, brings practics to its utmost.