No space in bed for a feminist

Man, Woman, Jewelry

I’m one of those annoying feminists wanting to challenge the wold view on what women should or shouldn’t do. Be beautiful; be sexy… but not too sexy! “Too sexy may seem trashy”. And be intelligent ,don’t be a smart ass though. And don’t say anything nasty against your fellow gals; you don’t wanna be a bitch.

I say do it. Be loud be frumpy be happy any and every way you know how. And be strong. Anytime a male treads on the stereotypical I’m first in line to challenge that thinking; “It’s so lazy not to take the time to get to know individuals but rather accept stereotypes as truth”. admittedly I don’t take lighthearted jokes as such… my scale of reaction being based on a belief  that the small daily “attacks” are the foundation of rape, molestation and abuse. I war against men who constantly replenish their idea of women being inferior. Imposing and strengthening that belief in each other (and sadly succeeding to impose it on women too) is dangerous.

But there’s no space for that in bed! Sensuality and pleasure involve vulnerability and a little profanity. If its gonna be fun im going to play those stereotypes and lure him- be that object, that’s the fun for me. To be carefree and lax out.  It’s not fun or sexy to me to want to dominate or be equal all the time (sometimes of course).

I hate to admit it but I am the inferior party in the bed (male-female relationship). If I “just wanna have fun” and hook up or in a long-term relationship; he will get up and go unscaved every single time but one time or another I will change form.  I might change and no one will see during the day or worse my whole body could fall pregnant. There is no 50/50 there. He’s 100 percent satisfied (by natures design pregnancy only happens if he’s satisfied, it makes no difference or consequence if I am) . And I am changed- I’ll look it in a few months ( and go through the bulk of the emotion alone).

It pisses me off frankly. I felt the same when I sat out of swimming and boys jumped in anytime of the month, I felt the same when I realised I would have the kids plus work, and everything else males do – being a woman disillusioned by the prospect of a real 50/50.

But that’s just the way it is.

Maturity might mean realising that in fact, women get the sweeter deal. We are stronger and more capable, it doesn’t hold us back, we have been thriving for ever. You bring life into the world and get to experience creative power. It’s a glorious thing?






“I am awfully greedy; I want everything from life. I want to be a woman and to be a man, to have many friends and to have loneliness, to work much and write good books, to travel and enjoy myself, to be selfish and to be unselfish… You see, it is difficult to get all which I want. And then when I do not succeed I get mad with anger.”

“The average 24 year old.” Search. “Life of the average 24 year old”. Search.

Google can’t tell me what the average 24 year old does or has or earns. Are they 1 or 2 years into their fist job? Are they interning or still in varsity, are they married, in a committed relationship or single?

I’m turning 24 years old in a couple of days.There’s alot I am proud of. Like quitting varsity where i waz unhappy to go to a technicon then working in “record time”- sort of, learning to love and be loved (hardest lesson of my life so far) and working so damn hard to get a good job; getting an internship for that good job. So after a big work project that kept me up for weeks, I decided I was doing great and looking back  I’ve achieved my goals for this point and have been more daring than I thought I was capable of being. I bought cake, some bubbly and celebrated my awesomeness!

Today, though… today im wondering what I will have to show for it when 24 catches up with me. I have a long way to go, to keep proving myself at work, to go for interviews, to  turn this internship into a solid job in this dog eats dog industry and being “only as good as your last fuck up”. I have to stick it through in my relationship after learning it’s not smooth now that I’ve “found the one”-its actually hard work! Its learning how to balance out the ratio so that you are both happy and both your needs are met. Communicating those needs when you don’t always know what you need from your partner when you’re facing a novel challenge in your life and watering my relationship so that it spawns into marriage(some day in the distant future). And the all important keeping in touch with friends and family- calling and visiting and making sure I dont get lost in this rat race through the maze of figuring myself out, so far im not passing at this area of life. There’s a lot to be done…


“If you trust in yourself. . .and believe in your dreams. . .and follow your star. . . you’ll still get beaten by people who spent their time working hard and learning things and weren’t so lazy.”



Oh the star of my soul fell at the wrong time. It smashed and scattered me far. I would take a voyage to find the mates of my soul. Those whose hearts found the world not what they expect.

The star would have stayed up longer but it plummeted with great suddenness,  there was no time to acclimatise. There is no trying now for my heart has found out, that the vessel is strange and the earth seems an enemy.

Bless me, there must be a reason the orbits ejected it. The heart rests not until it knows. I will soon voyage to find tge reason and hope I find on my way the other scatterings of the star. That will make me happy to be alive and open my sleeping eyes to how short life is.

For here days are too long for the words not understood.  I wish the star return but I am closer to the end now than the beginning.  May I rather finish that I may rest my fallen heart. There may be reward at the end, or there might be another voyage.

– There was a fault my dear, of the sort that cannot be reversed. It brought you on a thundering star much sooner than you were expected. Hode my dear, run faster for there are heels to be cut if u dont hasten your step. Forget being understood child, be content with being unmoved. But run… the hearts of your star are running too, but your paths will never meet. Your mates you will never know, just as the reason for the stars tumble.

Getting there


There exists, in the Southern tip of South Africa, a thick forrest where woman like me gather on dark nights to take leave of ordinary life. When the darkness (like i doubt youv ever seen) blankets thicker over the dense forestry, I walk its narrow paths that one can only see if you’ve known them. Edging through the night as it grows in its phases a howling alerts my senses to stratch out my arms and balance the surging flow of impluse, duck my head lower under the umbrella of thick trees and bushes so the crunching noises a few trees over doesn’t turn my way. The air and mist drys my cold lips as I freeze on the spot and chant a pecifing reminder that if I don’t take the next step forward, I wont be taking too many steps back either.

So I edge onto the damp leaves in front of me with my soilded, blisteted feet. Breathing slow and sparingly, only enough not to pass out. The adrenaline sends my body to overdrive so i lift my skirt from my ankles and clutch it to my chest, careful not to get caught on the dry branches or tripped by the protruding roots. Whatever is out there can see me as clear as if it were morning, and smell me, and taste me in the air.

“There they are!”, my heart leaps and sinks remembering there is still the forest to get through, the rapids to face and seeing the faint light at a distance means im much farther to hearing the drums than i anticipated. The rattling wind makes the trees sing a beautiful tone, over the sound of anything that may be approachig. It sounds like the purring of a lurking preditor, but I know its the wind blowing through the clutter of trees on the bank at the stream, even from here i can hear it. I pause to get my bearings, to listern for clarity of what it could be. I swallow hard as I take the next step… the sound of my throat contarcting seems too loud. I have to get to the beating drums and dances of jubilation where they wait for me with open arms. I dart my eyes up and down here and there as if im expecting to develop night vision ,and i am dizzy with caution. Not fear- fear reeks, Im terrified with caution.

Katlego blogged?


About love and life, passions that she allowed to take her too far. Mostly she blogged literature, to turn wierd, crazy, stupid ideas into a word of sincerity; thats why she writes, to express the sincere moments in a way that cleanses her soul of the debris of everyday life and allows a moment of truth.

Continue reading “Katlego blogged?”