02/08/2022
I wanted to revisit my favorite piece. I completed it two years ago today, inspired by this passage from Mary MacLanes "I Await the Devils Coming"
Mary was an openly bisexual, vocal feminist writer in the early 1900s, her first memoir being so controversial that rebellious behavior in teenage girls was dubbed, "MacLaneism."
Looking back today, perhaps MacLaneism can better be defined as the bubbling of frustration and dissatisfaction with "business as usual," moments from erupting - MacLaneism is impending change.
Her first memoir is in the public domain and can be found here (https://www.gutenberg.org/files/43696/43696-h/43696-h.htm)
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𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐜𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐞, 𝐀𝐠𝐞 𝟏𝟗, "𝐈 𝐀𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐬 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠", 𝐉𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝟐𝟔, 𝟏𝟗𝟎𝟏
"𝘐 𝘴𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘶𝘱𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘵𝘰𝘱𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘯𝘦𝘺𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘉𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘦. 𝘈𝘴 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘺, 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘨𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨.
𝘗𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴.
𝘜𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘧𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘫𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘺—𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘯, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘶𝘭𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘺.
𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳? 𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘥, 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘵. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦, 𝘱𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺, 𝘱𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳.
𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦, 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴, 𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘢𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴.
𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘷𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦, 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦, 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘧-𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘴. 𝘚𝘰 𝘷𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘶𝘱 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘺, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯 𝘶𝘱𝘰𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘚𝘰 𝘷𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘯 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦; 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘸 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘣𝘦, 𝘪𝘯 𝘷𝘪𝘦𝘸 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘷𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘦.
𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘧𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘪𝘦; 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘯 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘧𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘶𝘱𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘺 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮—𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘪𝘦; 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰 𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘦𝘯𝘥.
𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦—𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥, 𝘷𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘊𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘴.
𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘷𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘰𝘶𝘴.
𝘐 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘺. 𝘐 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢 𝘷𝘰𝘸, 𝘋𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘭, 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘦𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵.
𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘨𝘦. 𝘈 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘰𝘶𝘴. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦, 𝘯𝘰 𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘨𝘦. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘴. 𝘐𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱 𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵—𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯? 𝘞𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘶𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘷𝘦.
𝘐𝘧 𝘐 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘷𝘦. 𝘐 𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘴, 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴.
𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘢 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘳; 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯’𝘴 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦, 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯’𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘯—𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘸.
𝘔𝘢𝘺 𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳, 𝘐 𝘴𝘢𝘺, 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘣𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘭, 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘭, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘺—𝘢 𝘷𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯.
𝘈𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘋𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘭, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵.
𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰, 𝘢𝘴 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘧𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘯𝘦𝘺𝘴, 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘺, 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘨𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨."