And it’s the smell of your own flesh. A woman lies on an operating room table. She’s been given a light sedative and a local anesthetic. She came in this morning in search of beauty, and now she’s finding that beauty really is pain. Tears quietly stream down her face as she beings to shake uncontrollably from the pain. The plastic surgeon continues to cauterize the fresh wounds above her eyes that will hopefully heal and become upper eyelid folds. I can smell her seared flesh, and I know that she can too. Despite her most valiant efforts at controlling herself, she moans and lets out muffled shrieks of pain. I step out of the room and wipe tears from my eyes.
Today I smelled the patriarchy, and it’s the smell of human flesh. Cannibalism in it’s most pristine form.