Quotes About Empowerment

best way to deal with fear is to face the nightmare!

A great relationship was when someone accepted your past, supported your present, and encouraged your future.

And we all know when a sistuh gets mad, a sistuh gets athletically creative.

He thinks being black means having plenty of attitude; I think having plenty of knowledge is what black is all about;

A woman can plan. A woman thinks she needs a man for nothing in this world but soon realizes she is wrong. The same way every black- owned business has to acquire goods from a white distributor, women have to do business with men, be it professional or personal, to achieve too many of our goals.

And a woman needs a man to protect her from other men. Well, women used to. . . . Things have changed. Women are in the middle East, fighting and protecting men now.

black woman in the room feels invisible.

Today, our communities are full of children whose future, like Jelani's, will be formed in the places where they go to learn about themselves and the world they'll inherit. They deserve palaces. Whether they get them is up to us.

Remind yourself and others that power is in fact infinite—that we can create it where it does not exist. Our final strategy for doing that is simply this: act powerful. When we act powerful we become powerful. That plays out in the poses and stances we strike in civic life, in the art we make together in everyday life, and in the reality of minority rule.

It's not the disease or infirmity that heals, it's the person.

nobody who can think should ever be forced into a situation that bores them.)

Ich sehe nicht ein, warum nicht zwei Frauen ihren Weg voll Glück und Harmonie allein gehen können. Was brauchen wir die Männer!

Women are their own worst enemies. And guilt is the main weapon of self-torture…Show me a woman who doesn't feel guilty and I'll show you a man.

But the great compensation for being fifty in a culture that is not kind to older women is that you care less about criticism and you are less afraid of confrontation. In a world not made for women, criticism and ridicule follow us all the days of our lives. Usually they are indications that we are doing something right.

As long as women are denied the priesthood, we will try to make our own rituals at our own kitchen altars and we will sew our own magical capes at our own sewing machines

No wonder the word 'feminism' was feared. It had been much too narrowly defined. I define a feminist as a self-empowering woman who wishes the same for her sisters. I do not think the term implies a certain sexual orientation, a certain style of dress or membership in a certain political party. A feminist is merely a woman who refuses to accept the notion that women's power must come through men.

People don't complete us. We complete ourselves. If we haven't the power to complete ourselves, the search for love becomes a search for self-annihilation; and then we try to convince ourselves that self-annihilation is love.

When women have so absorbed the disease of sexism that they themselves can inflict it on each other, we clearly have a perfect, self-replenishing machine for the continuation of sexism. Unable to turn our assertiveness against men, we turn it against each other. Thus we remain stuck in the troubles we always had. It is imperative we renovate the machine -- no, not renovate it, but smash it entirely, so that we allow women to be all they need to be.

Women in America read 'lifestyle' pages which are really glorifications of shopping. They teach us we must veil ourselves in make-up to be loved. And we willingly take the veil, thinking ourselves freed by it. Make-up is no more optional for us than the veil is for Arab women: it is our Western version of the chador.

A person's not free if their freedom has to be given.

At thirty-nine, I learned how to change a tyre, how to shovel snow, how to stack wood. I learned how to meet a deadline without a shoulder to whine on. I became obsessed with firewood. If only there was alsways a fire in the fireplace, I knew that everything would be all right. (Prometheus must have been a women. I reverted to my ancient nature: inventing fire all day, having my liver plucked out all night.)

I had forgotten how awful it was to be a woman alone--the leering glances, the catcalls, the offers of help which you dared not accept for fear of incurring a sexual debt. The awful sense of vulnerability. No wonder I had gone from man to man and always wound up married. How could I have left Bennett? How could I have forgotten?

So there were people who got up at noon, pared their toenails, and sat naked in hotel rooms without regarding each day as an apocalypse. Amazing! If someone had burst into my room and found me naked and paring my nails, I would have died of shock. Or would I? Maybe I was stronger than I thought.

I was glowing with health and well-being, as a woman will glow when she's been fucked four times in one day by two different men