I will bury the woman of the twentieth century in the last part? Hm. I have to pay attention. I've been falling for black and white again for a long time now, I've always been very receptive to it. But at the same time I'm wary of it, to slip into a feminist drawer. I know, that I would limit myself with that. I wanted to write/talk about it several times, that from the disease ME, except for a quarter, only women are affected. So it can't be a coincidence, that this disease in particular experiences such discrimination or reduction to a mere ailment. I wanted to write about it, that the protagonist now finally hates and has become that, what is on the other side of the misogynist. But that's true and just wasn't true for me! Not only, that I haven't found a term for the counterpart to misogynist in the Duden (an ambiguous absence!). The protagonist—- and so me—- survived precisely in its properties, who she considers and considered male: bizarrely ambitious, angry and somehow performance-crazy, aggressive, full of desires, obsessive, jealous of the masculine and feminine, seized by hate, selfish etc. ….. and not through the feminine qualities of devotion, delicacy, humility and weakness. These characteristics lead to the disease very early on, the young girl— who only lived for romance, just dreamed, sang, played, marveled and danced— into physical illness, also, understood, one too receptive, too thin and too devoted body.( all sickness is transformed love. T. Mann) The female psyche, on the other hand, has the masculine (the myth!) acquired over the course of later years, imitated it, practiced, recorded, like a foreign one, exciting instrument, you could say. I could go further, and claim, that I do that, what I desired- the male- had to take into myself- had to embody myself– because no one was there, physical enough, to take all of me (see Plath)—- but physically couldn't do this. If I the “Woman of the Twentieth Century” not at the end of my last chapter”bury”, then less, because I suspect, that these cultural gender roles will no longer exist in the future— they will continue to crumble, even if there is still revolt against it from both sexes—, but because I failed with my own role. Who knows because of female biology (heavy periods, that caused my immune system to collapse, Adoring male authorities and at the same time being extremely afraid of them), I became ill in direct relation to my female biology …. but at the same time I know, that women are generally extremely strong and tough and have always been so: as women giving birth, mothers, World savers, as patriarchs, matriarchs, as undead! etc etc. Not …. and so my idea of femininity as devotion to the point of weakness must come from the books of the Victorian era, and there too, from books, which describe the glorified middle class and thus a kind of illusion and not the reality of the poor, hard working ugly women. So with summaga, No, I do not know, whether I “Woman of the Twentieth Century” bury, in this one sentence; this woman, in which the idol man was planted, truly, and grew into the stupidest illusion since the creator's departure! To the most excessive pleasure in pain! ( that's not a joke, until about 1980 was taught to women; the most important is, that they find a man, that they love …).
So I guess I'll just leave this sentence alone and concentrate on differentiation again, although I like polarizing and radicalizing. My protagonist has to say truthfully at the end: “I have to have the courage, to no longer be a single disturbance. I must be unidentifiable, outward, invisible. It's uncomfortable, to be like that, but I'm disappearing, because I'm falling through all the cracks. And I'm still only human.”
Further up, in the chapter about thirty-five, The protagonist describes herself as a kind of overreaction to individualism. Which is now resolved again at the end of the book. Since it is self-realization, which fails, a stupid, brain-mad solo effort without a fruitful legacy.