A text about the effects of patriarchal capitalism on the bodies and lives of women. The text is presented as a classic Greek tragedy of the present where the characters are the objects in a Greek house who are conversing about recent events in the family and the way in which the wider social, political and cultural context informs and determines life in the family.
A copy of this publication can be found in The Feminist Library in London.
To purchase a copy click here.
FIRST STASIMON (ODE): 220-255
CHAIR:
You know what, Grandpa’s Small Wallet? It is
you
that does not understand. Men, your owners, and capitalism have always been in the center of the picture, of the world. They have made no space for anyone else, except themselves. Look at me. Always hurt, always limping. They never took me seriously and that’s why they have left me here rotting. I can not offer anything to this household’s economy, I do not look like the other chairs, my back is sagging and my fabric is ripped. From the moment I broke, I understood that my life is going to change extremely. Not being useful means I am going to the rubbish.
That is something they were teaching their children in this home since they were little. What is useful, who is superior, who is inferior. Who must hurt, suffer for the sake of others. ...
Those are only a few examples of stuff that we’re hearing here. And all these show me that from the moment that those kids are born, they are taught lies in order to adapt to a very specific ideal, the ‘typical’ family of the white Europeans. Because being this ‘typical’ family is profitable. Helps some people, some men, to make money and gain more and more power. To control them more easily and to have them suppressed. Divide and conquer is the saying, right? So they divide. They divide into man-woman, white-black, rich-poor, functional-non functional, gay-straight, beautiful-ugly and so many, many more divisions.
So, I do know that there is no place for me in this society. In such an unequal society, a broken chair is just garbage. I have hated my body for what it does to me, without any of these being my fault. And nobody had thought to use me in a different way. When you are born and look like a chair, you must remain a chair. So, for the same reasons you think that when you are a man you must remain a man. You are afraid to lose the identity that was given to you by someone else. Things aren’t static. Things can change. And this comes from a chair with broken legs and for sure, a broken heart.
...
CASSEROLE:
Shhh, stop talking! Haroula is coming! 940
[Enters HAROULA]
OLD DOILY:
She’s here! What do we do?
WHITE PILLOWCASE:
Nothing! Just observe her.
GRANDPA'S SMALL WALLET:
Is she laughing?
Is she crying?
CHINA CLOSET:
Her eyes red and wet. 945
TV:
Her smile,
wide. Her laugh,
loud.
CHAIR:
I can’t tell.
MUM’S WALLET:
Are those tears? 950
BOOKCASE:
She’s trying to hide them.
TABLECLOTH:
You can see fight in her eyes.
To hold the tear,
but the words coming out of her mouth are too bitter.
Too bitter to be said without a tear. 955
Too bitter to be said without being erased by the saltiness.