When I was a student at Cambridge I remember an anthropology professor holding up a picture of a bone with 28 incisions carved in it. “This is often considered to be man’s first attempt at a calendar” she explained. She paused as we dutifully wrote this down. ‘My question to you is this – what man needs to mark 28 days? I would suggest to you that this is woman’s first attempt at a calendar.’
It was a moment that changed my life. In that second I stopped to question almost everything I had been taught about the past. How often had I overlooked women’s contributions?
Bright Eyes—The Calendar Hung Itself
She had eyes bright enough to burn me, they reminded me of yours
Her: Babe I wanna have a baby
Me: When?
Her: Right now… *Climbs on top of me*
Me: *Throws her off*
*pulls out Calendar*
Me: Uh uh. Look here.. right now it’s September and approximately 9 months from now it’ll be around June, which means there’s a strong chance our baby could be a Gemini. Too Risky. Let’s not.
Well the clock’s heart it hangs inside its open chest
With hands stretched towards the calendar hanging itself
But I will not weep for those dying days
For all the ones who have left there are a few that stayed
And they found me here and pulled me from the grass where I was laid
the calendar says september but my soul says Halloween
Department stores
I’m getting very tired of ‘inspirational parents of transgender children’ who get praise because they accept their trans children for who they are. Because they give a nice speech and use the right pronouns. Congratulations for reaching a level of basic human respect for...
I want to be like water. I want to slip through fingers, but hold up a ship.
