I never wished I was not a woman, even those days that I was ashamed of my desires because they were as simple and primary as feeling the wind blow in my hair, or the sunlight on my shoulders.
Not even those days that I was in art school, dealing with the Islamic disciplinary guard for which you were always a criminal, unless proven you�re not.

Like Simone de Beauvoir said, a new bassinet every month is built in the body, like a chance for a new birth which then gets ruined. and I'm telling you, until that moment, I don�t know exactly which hormones get what, but you are the most insecure, and sometimes depressed creature.
You know the moment that pain twists in your womb it�s over but until then you have to deal with it. If ask me, this is the hardest part of life for a woman -at least the one who's writing here.

This time along with it, a shock related to my paintings �one of those that first makes you laugh and the next day becomes an orange stuck in the throat- brought me to my minimum.

But still, if I could believe in reincarnation I�d rather to be reborn as a woman�wait, may be after the seventh life once being a man would be fun.





Painting: Port lady; oil and pastel on paper; December of 2000.