Germaine Greer Quotes

In order to approximate those shapes and attitudes which are considered normal and desirable, both sexes deform themselves, justifying the process by referring to the primary, genetic difference between the sexes. But of forty-eight chromosomes only one is different: on this difference we base a complete separation of male and female, pretending as it were that all forty-eight were different.

How do we form ourselves into an activity—a force to improve the situation? I don't have the answers. I'm an academic—[we're] the most useless people in the world.

It is often falsely assumed, even by feminists, that sexuality is the enemy of the female who really wants to develop these aspects of her personality, and this is perhaps the most misleading aspect of movements like the National Organization of Women. It was not the insistence upon her sex that weakened the American woman student's desire to make something of her education, but the insistence upon a passive sexual role

The pain of sexual frustration, of repressed tenderness, of denied curiosity, of isolation in the ego, of greed, suppressed rebellion, of hatred poisoning all love and generosity, permeates our sexuality. What we love we destroy.

Next time round Hitler will be a machine.

Women have somehow been separated from their libido, from their faculty of desire, from their sexuality. They've become suspicious about it. Like beasts, for example, who are castrated in farming in order to serve their master's ulterior motives — to be fattened or made docile — women have been cut off from their capacity for action. It's a process that sacrifices vigour for delicacy and succulence, and one that's got to be changed.

A housewife's work has no results: it simply has to be done again. Bringing up children is not a real occupation, because children come up just the same, brought up or not.

The surest guide to the correctness of the path that women take is joy in the struggle. Revolution is the festival of the oppressed. For a long time there may be no perceptible reward for women other than their new sense of purpose and integrity. Joy does not mean riotous glee, but it does mean the purposive employment of energy in a self-chosen enterprise. It does mean pride and confidence. It does mean communication and cooperation with others based on delight in their company and your own. To be emancipated from helplessness and need and walk freely upon the earth that is your birthright. To refuse hobbles and deformity and take possession of your body and glory in its power, accepting its own laws of loveliness. To have something to desire, something to make, something to achieve, and at last something genuine to give. To be freed from guilt and shame and the tireless self-discipline of women. To stop pretending and dissembling, cajoling and manipulating, and begin to control and sympathize. To claim the masculine virtues of magnanimity and generosity and courage. It goes much further than equal pay for equal work, for it ought to revolutionise the conditions of work completely. It does not understand the phrase 'equality of opportunity', for it seems that the opportunities will have to be utterly changed and women's souls changed so that they desire opportunity instead of shrinking from it.

Sexual religion is the opiate of the supermenial.

The hallmark of egotistical love, even when it masquerades as altruistic
love, is the negative answer to the question ‘Do I want my
love to be happy more than I want him to be with me?’ As soon as
we find ourselves working at being indispensable, rigging up a
pattern of vulnerability in our loved ones, we ought to know that
our love has taken the socially sanctioned form of egotism. Every
wife who slaves to keep herself pretty, to cook her husband’s favourite
meals, to build up his pride and confidence in himself at the expense
of his sense of reality, to be his closest and effectively his only
friend, to encourage him to reject the consensus of opinion and find
reassurance only in her arms is binding her mate to her with hoops
of steel that will strangle them both. Every time a woman makes
herself laugh at her husband’s often-told jokes she betrays him. The man who looks
at his woman and says ‘What would I do without you?’ is already
destroyed. His woman’s victory is complete, but it is Pyrrhic. Both
of them have sacrificed so much of what initially made them lovable
to promote the symbiosis of mutual dependence that they scarcely
make up one human being between them.

At no time did anyone throw his cap in the air and rejoice that another painter, capable of equaling Hals at his best, had been discovered.

We still make love to organs and not people.

Where did you get the idea that the most wonderful thing I could be in life was obedient?

If female liberation is to happen, if the reservoir of real female love is to be tapped, this sterile self-deception must be counteracted. The only literary form which could outsell romantic trash on the female market is hard-core pornography.

Status ought not to be measured by a woman's ability to attract and snare a man.