I just watched it.
It is a metaphor of my life walking amongst the cis-het war boys every day.
Their absolute insane shit, what with the horrible loud motors, the crazed music, and their orgiastic thirst for the blood of the weak, the meek, the innocent and women…
sometimes when men give me their disdain and hatred it is like how this movie sounded…that mad demon guitarist may as well follow me out in the world and be flailing like a madman while the world around me glories in my humiliation, my shame and policing.
I honestly fucking LOVED the warrior women in this…and the original warrior woman in “The Road Warrior” was my original hero and I was her wanna-be.
I freaking despise those who prattle on about “not all men”…I say that it is all men who will not allow a woman to redeem them. For it is ours to bring deliverance and redemption to them and their fucking macho bullshit quest to some fantasy boy valhalla…
…and I have had my precious memories shit on…I have had the sacred sheep that ran from the mountains to me at the behest of God been raped and savaged and murdered in the words and thoughts of one who ripped out my very soul and shook it bloody in my face.
No…not all men…any who will be strong enough to be weak and vulnerable and receptive in the moment to the mothers made of living flesh.
No doubt this post is full of pain, of rage…but my heart can take no more violation and rape and pillaging…I can take no more walking free and clear only to be mocked and murdered with every pair of eyes I meet.
Do you see…the job that Mama has in taking this twisty slimy dirty clay and making me into some kind of vessel fit and present in the world for healing?
I am no Furiosa…but perhaps a Capable…who might deliver some poor fool from his foolishness and turn him to the Life.
Very very challenging movie…watching my inner torment come to life on the screen before my eyes.