Big woman envy

I've never had penis envy. If you're prepared to lower your ethical standards its always possible to get your hands on a penis. What I do get is big woman envy. I had a moment of big woman envy when I saw this picture. I'm a skinny,at best wiry, human and in all my years of resisting arrest I have always been carried off like laundry, more or less bruised, without scraping so much as a police shin. I once, and once only, managed to be a sack of potatoes. I never thought of collaring a cop though. Worth remembering. It took some time for the memory of Theresa to percolate through this picture. Sometime after Mandela's unbanning but before the elections we picketed the Supreme Court. I do recall the boy I was illicitly in lust with but I don't remember the issue. I remember also getting the sense that it had become unclear to the functionaries of apartheid whether history might after all turn out to be on our side. The warders didn't bother to lock the doors of the individual cells after we were arrested. (Convenient, because the aforesaid boy could tenderly minister to the bruise down the side of my left breast.) But I digress: back to the scene of the aquisition of said bruise. By the time the cops got round to throwing me into the van I had to duck smartly as the women inside launched a volley of kicks whenever the door opened. But most clearly I remember Theresa. She had been on death row for some time in a notorious 'common cause' case: she faced hanging for having been in the crowd when a suspected informer was killed. Now she was on some kind of special bail and even being at this protest violated its conditions. I looked out from under the kicking legs and saw Theresa - hat lost, freedom and for all she knew her life in jeopardy, and with her shoe in hand, beating away at the cops with the heeled end while they dragged her to the van. Probably the only time in my life i ever thought, what a pity she wasn't wearing stillettos.