A little thread.
Wallada bint al-Mustakfi (born in Cordova in 1001 – died 1091), was an Andalusian poet. The only child of Muhammad III of Córdoba, Wallada inherited his fortune, and used it to open a palace and literary hall in Córdoba. #CelebratingWomen
There she offered instruction in poetry and the arts of love to women of all classes, from those of noble birth to slaves.
She was considered a great beauty for her time: blonde, fair-skinned and blue-eyed, in addition to being intelligent, cultured and proud. #CelebratingWomen
She was also controversial, walking out in public without a hijab, wearing transparent tunics with her verses embroidered on her clothing. Her behaviour was regarded by the local mullahs as perverse and was criticized, but she also had a tremendous following. #CelebratingWomen
Wallada gained recognition for her skill in public poetry competitions, which was at the time a male pursuit. It was during one of these competitions that she met her great love, the poet Ibn Zaydún, though their relationship had to remain a secret. #CelebratingWomen
Only nine poems by Wallada have survived. Eight of these were written about this relationship, which ended because Zaydún also had male lovers. #CelebratingWomen
One poem implies that the relationship ended because of an affair between Ibn Zaydún and a black lover.
The verse goes as follows:
"You know that I am the moon of the skies, But, to my disgrace, you preferred a dark planet." #CelebratingWomen
Reminder to those still unconvinced about the historical realism of various kinds of diversity: THIS WAS THE EARLY ELEVENTH CENTURY. #CelebratingWomen
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Here's a little thread about GRAMMAR. Indulge me for a minute: it's important.
I see a lot of people on here dismissing correct grammar as pedantic, or talking about "grammar Nazis", as if the freedom to misrepresent the language was somehow a human right. The irony is that *actual Nazis* are very good at using grammar for their own ends. Here's why.
Grammar is basically a security measure. It's a way to check that the language we use does what we intend it to: that is, means delivering a clear message to another person, without error or confusion.
Little thread. I'm seeing a lot of men on here claiming to be "protective" towards women, and expecting praise for it. I'm sure these men mean well, but this attitude is absolutely part of the problem. Here's why.
1. It implies that some women deserve to be protected (and also, that by definition, some don't). 2. It implies that it’s okay for men to assume responsibility (and ownership) for women. It’s not.
3. It implies that women should be grateful for the “protection” of men (and their attention). 4. It gives these men the feeling that they’re entitled to interfere with (and comment) on the behaviour of women, when they’re absolutely not.
Here's a little mini-thread, to test your imagination. 1. Imagine your child has been bitten by a rabid dog. 2. Imagine you, in a panic, driving the child to A&E. 3. Imagine the A&E doctor telling you all about his very tame and non-rabid dog, instead of deaing with your child.
4. Imagine him saying you need to think less about the rabid dog, and more about all the good dogs in the world. 5. Imagine going home at last, to be faced by all your neighbours, all of them keen to explain that their dog would never bite a child.
6. Imagine your neighbours telling you that if the child hadn't been outside, they wouldn't have been bitten. 7. Imagine people saying that your child probably teased the dog into biting them, anyway. 8. Imagine people saying that the dog wasn't really rabid.
#TooManyMen on here saying: "This is the way of the world." It's not. It's the way of the patriarchy. Not all men built the hill. But all men benefit from their position on it: that sense that they deserve more space, more respect, more of what they want than women do.
My first assault by a man. I was 7. I was told not to make a fuss, to be polite, and not to be alone with him again. Throughout childhood and adolescence, I took that advice with a dozen men, some strangers, some colleagues. I was polite; obedient. It doesn't work.
Dozens of incidents down the line, I was attacked on Oxford Street at Christmas by two men who grabbed my bag and tried to drag me into an alleyway. I made a fuss. No-one intervened. So I knocked the fuckers down. Left one of them with a bloody nose. It worked just fine.
There is a story the bees used to tell, which makes it hard to disbelieve. #Storytime
A man built a house in which to live, and to provide for his family and his old age. #Storytime
It was a small house at first, but over the years the man added wings and outbuildings, and in time, the house became very grand. It began to attract attention. #Storytime