Mari May was a woman who had been raised by the wind.
In a land dressed in clouds and rainbows she had grown up believing firmly in the power of her own potential. Yet feeling like she needed to survive she left the valley of rainbow whisperings and moved towards the city; to a grey hollow world where life was not so pretty.
As often happened with powerful women in this world the patriarchal imaginary had worked to slowly kill her confidence. It had oh so silently and seductively informed her that in order to be loved she would need to submit to the idea of an inferior feminity; reminding her that power, image and success in the eyes of others were modernity’s newfound holy trinity.
So she combed her wild hair back, painted her face and became an image fit for the masculine mind to adore.. loosing herself in the process each day more and more.
Draped in the tyranny of the majority she sunk into this synthetic world where people told that technology and theology were the fundament of what was right; like a rock eroding under hurricane happenstance she slowly lost her own ability to fight.
Yet Mari May watched as the grey world around her began to fall; drowning under crumbling concrete and addiction to the idea of an external image she wondered what the point was of anything at all?
So dressed in all her external success on one odd October evening she climbed to the highest point in the city; deciding finally to kill the dried up woman who the patriarchal imaginary now thought so pretty.
Yet just as she was readying herself to die, she heard a gurgling… a soft shallow sigh. Then suddenly like a fierce long lost friend she greeted the sky- as the wind rushed past her cold cheeks and whispered goodbye.
‘Say goodbye to the person you were before. Begin once again as the person you are. Remember your home; each mountain, each lake and each far away star.’
A single silver tear slid down her cheek reminding Mari May suddenly of her ability to speak. She would speak in the face of all the blind minds who would not listen to the words of the wind. She would speak for her species, for her sisters, for her kin… she would speak now too for the wind and the sky… because to speak, she remembered, was better than to die.
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