Sublime

what about the shame of being madly in love and waiting for a man behind a door he did not open, being called totally deranged and a whore around the edges? Has The Second Sex cleansed me of all that, or on the other hand, completely submerged me?

It is a different kind of shame from that of being the daughter of shop-and-café keepers. It is the shame of having once been proud of being an object of desire. Of having considered her life at camp an emancipation. The shame of Annie, what does your body say, of I don’t know you from a hole in the wall, and the scene by the message board; the