"Those of us who stand outside the circle of this society's definition of acceptable women; those of us who have been forged in the crucibles of difference – those of us who are poor, who are lesbians, who are Black, who are older – know that survival is not an academic skill. It is learning how to take our differences and make them strengths. For the master's tools will never dismantle the master's house. They may allow us temporarily to beat him at his own game, but they will never enable us to bring about genuine change. And this fact is only threatening to those women who still define the master's house as their only source of support."⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
Audrey Lorde became known through her poetry, which she used to address issues on feminism, womanism and civil rights. Her first poem was published in Seventeen when she was in high school.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
In 1954, after a year as a student at the National University of Mexico she confirmed her identity as a lesbian and a poet. Despite that, she had two children with her husband, Edward Rollins, a white, gay man, before they divorced in 1970.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
In 1972, Lorde met her long-time partner, Frances Clayton.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
Audre used her teaching experiences and chosen lifestyle as black, queer woman in white academia to inform her life work and expressed the importance of celebrating differences, rather than using them as tools of isolation.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
If you are interested in learning more about Audre, may I recommended reading: ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
🌾Нікому не потрібні твої сльози,
Нікого не цікавить твій душевний біль,
І хоч які на серці в тебе грози,
Не говори, нехай болить, не смій!
Не треба довірятися, любити,
Не треба бути щирим, бо вкінці
Залишишся із серцем вщент розбитим,
Залишаться від ран страшних рубці🌾
I am not good. I know what I am.
I don’t intend to fool anyone,
to pull wool over any eyes,
to charm anyone with a song and dance.
I know what I am.
I’d throw the stones in my own eyes
if I could generate enough power
to do myself real damage.
But God didn’t make arms that way,
for better or worse.
I’d rub my own face in the dirt
if I thought it would convince you of remorse.
I’d deprive myself of all luxury,
expel anything good away from me,
learn all the latest methods of punishment
and become their bondservant.
Because I know what I am,
these are the things I would do…
for a faint echo of kindness that abides,
a whisper wafting through wind
that I don’t always feel.
That voice hasn’t utterly vanished,
hasn’t been entirely vanquished.
And somewhere, bone-deep,
I sense that the tune's tenderest parts
will be what turns me back,
what puts my feet
on the path that leads homeward.