Women Authors From The United States

"I sit with my books all day. But then the evening comes, quiet, nostalgic and sad and, unnoticed, the work slips away out of my hands. I suddenly get the urge to see wide, open skies and dark earth, the urge to breathe freely and not suffocates under heavy stones. Here in the long, narrow streets between high walls, you won't find wonders such as these. I throw myself down on the bed, close my eyes and my fantasy takes me away to where the sky is broad and wide and the earth is free to breathe-to my"

"Reality and dreams are weaving together, flowing into each other and I don't know where one ends and the other begins."

"I'm young and strong and not afraid to stare my sorrow in the eyes, drinking it down to the dregs. And because I am young and strong the work draws me in, just as life does, the joy of life. Lately I find myself pausing in wonder when faced with the creations of the long-gone, half-forgotten peoples. The past is becoming as familiar and dear to me as the present, as the advance fulfillment of tomorrow. I sometimes feel as though I'm bathing in the light of those stars, long dead, which continue to send us their bright, shining light. We are bound to them by thin threads, spun from gold."

"My books, my great friends, gaze down on me with quiet resentment, calling me to them."

"Yearning conquers fear."

"This is how it always goes: when my life becomes dismal and sombre, I delve into my past and select sparks of pure joy, of untainted happiness and use them to light up my blackened soul. And here it is, my beautiful dream: A quiet, trembling night spread its wings over the blooming valley, shrouding it in starless obscurity."

"I have no desire for rhetoric, for platitudes, and cannot find the words as deep and great as my awe for mankind, as my awe for its creation. Not with words-I will prove it with my life."

"My face burns with shame."

"Above is a patch of sky, but this has already turned grey, cold and deeply calm. Slowly, slowly, as though embarrassed, long, soft, dark shadows crawl in through the open window, stealing their way into the room, growing bold, and making themselves comfortable in every corner."

"If my idea is weak, it will flare up just for a moment, halting, fearful of every hurdle. I want to select the brightest and most beautiful ideas in generations, ideas which have until now only revealed themselves to a select few, and make them clear and comprehensible for thousands and tens of thousands of people. May those thousands, tens of thousands, warm themselves in the same sun that shines for me, may they enjoy the same happiness that has been lavished on me."

""A man over forty is in his prime. When can one live if not now? When does one know how to live if not in these years? It's not with twenty, but with forty that one comes into one's true youth. In France they understand these things."

"Restless and dislocated, Margolin was deeply at odds with the world in which she found herself."

"No sooner does one rise a little above one's own petty joys and pains, than crystal clear wellsprings of new joy and new pain open up."

"Anna Margolin's reputation rests on one slim volume of Yiddish poetry published in New York City in 1929. Her poetry remains remarkably fresh and contemporary in spite of having been written a long time ago: the language is original and personal, and her themes of anxiety, loneliness, and search for identity and meaning are, if anything, more relevant today than they were in her lifetime."

"The Yiddish newspapers provided only limited opportunities for female writers. These women did not write about economics or politics, but were invariably consigned to the other side of the mekhitse (the barrier separating men from women in the synagogue)-to the women's pages, where they were limited to writing about fashion, home decor, and child rearing. Many of them, including Anna Margolin, resented this restriction. In addition to a weekly column, Margolin wrote fiction and essays...With her flair and style, she succeeded in leaving the mark of her considerable writing ability and literary consciousness on even trivial subjects. Her articles soon came to the attention of the major Yiddish and Hebrew writers, such as Chaim Nachman Bialik, Mani Leyb, and Itsik Manger. But many critics refused to believe that these articles were written by a woman. Reuven Ayzland said of her fashion section in Der Tog (The Day) that "it read like poetry.""

"Anna Margolin was an exceptionally beautiful and gifted woman, fiercely individualistic and with a volatile temperament, who lived a tempestuous, unconventional life. Like many other Jewish women writers-Clare Goll (Franco-German poet, 1901-1977), Elsa Lasker Schüler (German poet, 1869-1945), and Yente Serdatsky (Yiddish writer, 1877-1962)-she adopted a bohemian and an eccentric lifestyle. A complex personality torn by fundamental tensions, Margolin had a keen wit, intellectual acumen, and uncompromising honesty; she was also high-strung and aggressively self-confident. She threw herself into both intellectual pursuits and romantic attachments with great passion and had a succession of lovers beyond her two marriages. Most of her liaisons were with exceptional and prominent men."

"While most of the Yiddish poets of the 1920s were conventional in their use of rhyme and observed the linguistic proprieties of that time, Anna Margolin-along with other Yiddish women writers-experimented with free verse and with incongruous and jarring juxtapositions of diction and sound. Although no specific connections have been established between Anna Margolin and other Yiddish women writers, she acknowledged their general influence in a letter to Reuven Ayzland: “If I have borrowed from anyone, it was not from men, never, only from women. And if my own work shows signs of other minds, other hearts-these are the minds and hearts of women I have encountered. I never forget them.”"

"Anna Margolin created her own language and style, which even now seems fresh and contemporary."

"Margolin's fierce, individualistic expressiveness was not at all concerned with the literary niceties. In a letter to the critic S. Tenenboym, she declared: “My poems are not just mumblings, aromas, spiderwebs. A large part of them are texture-massive, rhythmic, broad; and the context-dramatic.""

"The Yiddish poet Reuven Ayzland kept her informed about how her poems were being received in the New York cafes where the Yiddish literary intelligentsia gathered. About the reception of her poem "To Be a Beggarwoman," which had just appeared in the weekly newspaper, Di Fraye Arbeter Shtime (The Liberated Workers' Voice), he wrote: "Last night, Anna Margolin was the main topic among the literati. A thousand hypotheses were offered about who might be hiding behind the name, and the general opinion is that it must certainly be a man." Later, he wrote her again: "Why people want Anna Margolin to be a man is beyond me. The general opinion, however, is that these poems are written by an experienced hand. And a woman can't write like that." These clearly prejudiced responses indicate how widespread such attitudes were at that time and perhaps cast some light on the reception her book was to receive."

"Margolin's major themes of anxiety, loneliness, and a search for meaning run through all the sections of her book...Anna Margolin's central motifs include her yearning for transcendence, her resistance to the constraints of gender, and the tensions between rigid immobility and graceful movement-between proud, calm exteriors and inner turmoil, between mirror images that mock her and the masks and shawls that conceal her."

"Although Anna Margolin was neglected by male critics of her time, who dismissed her as a "woman writer," and her reputation suffered during the general decline of interest in Yiddish writing, now after more than half a century of obscurity, her work has been rediscovered. A new generation of feminist scholars-Adrienne Cooper, Marcia Falk, Kathryn Hellerstein, Norma Fein Pratt, Sheva Zucker, and others are reappraising Margolin's achievement. Her poetry, reissued in a Yiddish edition, speaks to us across the generations with perhaps even greater strength today than it had in her lifetime. Anna Margolin dreamed of immortality. In the last of her three poems titled "Autumn," she wrote: “Heavy autumn, heavy step, I am old./Dark heart of mine, don't curse, believe in miracles:/somewhere in the world, in a city/I am flowering like a lily.”"

"Enamored of the work of the poet Federico Garcia Lorca, she undertook to learn Spanish. She was greatly influenced by Baudelaire, Verlaine, and Rimbaud; among the Germans, by Else Lasker-Schüler and Rainer Maria Rilke; and among the Yiddish poets, by Itsik Manger and Avrom Sutzkever. She was knowledgeable about the major literary trends in poetry and was a formidable critic. When Margolin's collection Lider (Poems) was published in 1929, leading writers in Warsaw discussed her work with great admiration, and gatherings were held to read and study her poetry. Although Lider was well-received in New York, it did not gain the wide readership Margolin had hoped for-even though such well-known writers as Chaim Nachman Bialik and Moishe Nadir praised her work."

"During the early decades of the twentieth century, Yiddish women writers in North America considered themselves emancipated and enlightened. They created an extensive literature that ran the gamut from chronicles of the domestic scene to the experimental and highly complex writing of Anna Margolin and others."

"I am a person who applies the United Nations to community life and daily living. It is not enough to hope that the United Nations succeeds. To make it work, people must do something about it."

"The charter of the U.N. is in reality an amplification of the admonition mankind was given centuries ago, 'Therefore all things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them.'"

"Could the title of the Gospel of Thomas—named after the disciple who, tradition tells us, went to India—suggest the influence of Indian tradition?"

"...she is enormously strong. Pagels not only survived two tragedies in the space of fifteen months but since then has written another book, reared her children, taught her many students. She is, by all reports, a good colleague, a devoted friend. Her mind is quick and generous. At fifty-two, she has a mild, earnest appearance (a rounded, friendly face, windblown blond hair), and yet in conversation she is absolutely fierce, focussed, picking apart the careless question, delighted by the unexpected one. When she delivers her lectures for an undergraduate course on the New Testament—Monday and Wednesday mornings at ten—she does not so much pace the room as prowl it. Pagels radiates so much intensity that you somehow imagine a fast-burning cigarette in her hand. There is none. She does not smoke. She smolders."

"Yet the gnostic Gospel of Thomas relates that as soon as Thomas recognizes him, Jesus says to Thomas that they have both received their being from the same source . . . Does not such teaching—the identity of the divine and human, the concern with illusion and enlightenment, the founder who is presented not as Lord, but as spiritual guide—sound more Eastern than Western? Some scholars have suggested that if the names were changed, the 'living Buddha' appropriately could say what the Gospel of Thomas attributes to the living Jesus. Could Hindu or Buddhist tradition have influenced gnosticism?"

"At one point in my life, I had to make a decision...I had to decide whether to have too little or too much in my life...Study, children, friends, travel—all of it. That was an easy one. I chose too much.”"

"Satan is a way of perceiving opponents. You may not believe the mythology of such a universe, but it’s in you, a background perception.”"

"There are certain ecological structures in any marriage—some with a traditional gender bias and some not. Simply, people take on certain roles. In a way, I had to do everything. But, most of all, I also wanted to take on the challenge of not giving up, of not despairing. Because Heinz was on the side of life. He loved life. He was full of explorative excitement, interest, passion. I realized that it would be no honor to him to say, ‘I can’t take this, I can’t go on, it’s too hard.’ Somehow, I wanted to take on something of what I’d learned from him, the way he embraced life, with all its dangers and difficulties. I was challenged to do that. I can’t say I’ve done it, but that’s what I wanted to do."

"Luzma, when asked to share a verse that best describes her today, replied: “I imbibe/bringing unending existence/in the never ending/cycle of life that is our oneness-/our only island.”"

"Luzma compellingly stated how she was openly a Latina lesbian academic at a time and place where it was outright dangerous: "I received sexual harassment calls and death threats. I was always on the lookout. It was very difficult, but it was very important because it also showed me I had to be courageous, not only for myself but also for others.""

"Luzma was very quick in enumerating lessons for the younger generations stemming out of her life experiences. Her advice reflects an open perspective toward life: "You will have moments of glory and moments of pain. You will have many losses-losses of friends, parents, lovers, and teachers. The world revolves more slowly than you wish at times and your mind goes faster than the world. Acquire your own pace. Stay true to what people who loved you the most taught you. Value your culture but be open to learning about other cultures. Value also the acquisition of languages. Don't be afraid to ask if you don't know, nor to say that you do not know something either. Humility is an important path to learning. Admit the value of others in your life and let them know. Discrimination is best fought with excellence if you are a minority or a woman. Don't look for others to grant you your rewards in life-give them to yourself.”"

"Luzma's narrative of transforming difficult experiences in life into advocacy and activism runs as a unifying thread through her life. She belongs to a cohort of gay and lesbian activists who came to age in a more liberated sexual culture of the 70's"

"In 1978, she became the first Puerto Rican to receive tenure in the Spanish Department at Rutgers University. In a deep but heartfelt tone she expressed: "My life in exile took me to become the mentor and teacher of other exiled students and that was very rewarding since I had made the decision to stay in the USA to be of service to that group.""

"The last piece of the tapestry revealing her complex identity was woven in place when Luzma realized her alliance with Latina and African American writers gave her an extended identity. She found kinship in women of color who had been left out of the Women and Gay and Lesbian movement. She narrates this kinship poignantly: "We realized we were on our own and started bonding together, Latina women writers like Cherrie Moraga, Jewel Gómez, black writers like Audre Lorde and Ntozake Shange, who wrote For Colored Women, we understood we had to support each other or nobody would.”"

"When one "steals" a dress code from another gender, one is crossing a line in this country and walking into the realm of irrational fears living in people's minds."

"I want to suggest to the readers that taboos are not something foreign to "intellectuals" reading this piece or attending the MLA. On the contrary, the taboos within academia are probably more harmful to Lesbian women than those associated with mountaineer men in Kentucky or low class white "Americans.""

"I do not wish anyone to think that I am a saint and that people project on me their insecurities and that is how I deal with life. But, unlike some of these people, I have spent countless hours in introspection, alone and in therapy. I am very happy with who I am, but that took years of pain, suicidal thoughts, tears, panic attacks, and insecurities to develop. I have dealt with many of my problems as a Lesbian, as an abused child, and as an anorexic teenager. I am, indeed, not perfect, but I am happy with who I am. And, if maintaining my happiness and the happiness I can bring to others through my voice and writings means that I will be the object of persecution, banned, ignored and left out, I am willing to pay that price."

"I have also been called and labeled "crazy" for daring to break stereotypes and taboos-for questioning white women on their racism."

"Listening to or reading about Lesbian writers and their works does not make anyone of us less fearful of taboos, crossing gender lines or trespassing male/female hierarchies. On the contrary, I have felt more acceptance of my voice, writings and Self while working in jails for youths, cultural centers in barrios, or teaching Appalachian university students. Perhaps, in the midst of this essay, we should start questioning ourselves as to whose taboos we are talking about or referring to. I, for one, can say that our taboos in academia have provoked more emotional and career harm to me than those held by what we, as academicians, call the "others"-"theirs"-the street people, the illiterate, the white trash, youths in jails."

"What I needed to verbalize is the fact that I am, among many other things, a Lesbian. Second, I wanted to communicate in some viable form with some One who came to represent all women to me."

"I had long ago found courage in Audre Lorde's Sister Outsider when she says: “I find I am constantly being encouraged to pluck out some one aspect of myself and present this as a meaningful whole, eclipsing or denying the other parts of self. But this is a destructive and fragmenting way to live. My fullest concentration of energy is available to me only when I integrate all the parts of who I am, openly, allowing power from particular sources of my living to flow back and forth freely through all my different selves, without the restrictions of externally imposed definition. Only then can I bring myself and my energies as a whole to the service of those struggles which I embrace as part of my living""

"This book is an answer to Cherrie Moraga's valiant Loving In The War Years."

"I have always thought that my poetry is a reflection of my life in all its many capacities."

"I feel that self promotion of one's misfortunes for gain is highly deplorable and a treason to the self."

"My first collection: Una puertorriqueña en Penna came out of those years and the racism I experienced while being a graduate student at Bryn Mawr College. Some of the poems are also a defense of my Puerto Rican culture and language. It is sad to say that the poems were not accepted by a Latino publishing house at the time because I did not write "like a woman." In other words, I was supposed to write about flowers, gardening and domestic chores. This first anthology was amplified to be the final book, En el país de las maravillas, which my dearest Chicana sister, Norma Alarcón, agreed to publish as the first book from her established press: Third Woman. Third Woman Press gave me a platform from which to publish without pressure from the establishment on thematics. They also published my next two books: ...Y otras desgracias and The Margarita Poems. The day I received a hand written note from Maya Angelou, stating that she had read The Margarita Poems and I should consider her another Margarita, was a private moment of recognition."

"The chapbook was published in Puerto Rico as a gift to Nemir, my muse at that time (2008/2009); a woman I truly love."