I’m just a loud-mouthed middle-aged colored lady with a fused spine and three feet of intestines missing and a lot of people think I’m crazy. Maybe you do too, but I never stop to wonder why I’m not like other people. The mystery to me is why more people aren’t like me.

When a system of oppression has become institutionaliz ed it is unnecessary for individuals to be oppressive.

Niggerization is the result of oppression – and it doesn’t just apply to the black people. Old people, poor people, and students can also get niggerized.

Now, see there. Just because I’m wearing my Super-Dike sweatshirt, you think I’m a lesbian. I guess if I were wearing a string of pearls, you’d think I was an oyster.

Oppressed people are frequently very oppressive when first liberated. They know but two positions: somebody’s foot on their neck or their foot on somebody’s neck.

Here I am a woman attorney being told I can’t practice law in slacks by a judge dressed in drag.

Everybody’s scared for their ass. There aren’t too many people ready to die for racism. They’ll kill for racism but they won’t die for racism.

Any woman who still thinks marriage is a fifty-fifty proposition is only proving that she doesn’t understand either men or percentages.

Nail polish or false eyelashes isn’t politics. If you have good politics, what you wear is irrelevant. I don’t take dictation from the pig-o-cratic style setters who say I should dress like a middle-aged lady. My politics don’t depend on whether my tits are in or out of a bra.

There’s no way that I know of to avoid pain absolutely, but suffering is the interpretation we choose to place on the pain we encounter.