Reddit reviews Mercy: A Novel

I was curious so I did some internet sleuthing. It's from her novel Mercy (info here), which is a sort of fictional autobiography. The quote comes from this long passage that seems sort of free thought (there were no good paragraph breaks for me to figure out where to start and stop). So here's a long passage that includes the quote.

>There’s anonymous women moving
through the night; I have my husband here, right in front o f
me, I have a gun to his head, I pull the trigger, it is an
execution, my right, any time, any place; his life is mine,
because he hurt me; dreadful; a dreadful hurt. I want him
executed so I can be free o f fear; and if there was justice I could
do it any time, any place; I’d have the gun; I’d have the choice;
I’d have the right. I think I have a twin in the night, some girl
standing in for me; who will just smash his fucking head in. I
think one day they will gather, the women, outside where he
lives, I think there will be thousands o f them, I think it will be a
crowd, a mob, a riot, a revolution, and I think they will chant
his name, and I think they will surround his house, and I think
they will block the city streets for blocks, and I think they will
stop traffic, and I think no one will be able to pass in or out and
they will stop the police from getting to him to protect him
because they will stretch for miles and someone, an unknown
someone, will kill him, it will be one and it will be all and no
one will ever know who except for her herself, they will smash
him or shoot him or knife him, or fifty will knife him, or a
hundred, but so it’s final, not making a mistake, they will kill
him good and real and quick, and no one will know who,
because it will be all o f them; for me; do this; for me; and when
an indictment is read they will all stand up; for me; including
the ones who heard me scream and including the ones who
weren’t born yet. My eyes work. I see. It is not a mystery. If
it’s in front o f you you can see how it works itself out. It’s not
prophecy; it’s simple seeing; what is there; now; naked from
the lies. I see the future, a pretty place. The men make a sex
circus, we are the performing animals. There are hoops o f fire,
we are chained in cages, they whip us to make us jump: high
enough for them to look under. We jump, we hop, we spread
our legs; they’ll paint us purple underneath; or shave us so we
look like babies; or put brands on us, or chains through us,
underneath; they’ll hurt us, more; more than now; more;
killing won’t be enough; rape will be the good old days, when
it was simple, how they just forced us, in private, or how they
just beat us, with fists, in private, or how they put fingers
inside us, when we were too small, underneath; we’ll be the
dog-and-pony show; they’ll leash us and they’ll manacle us
and they’ll paint us pink and we’ll have nostalgia for the good
old days when the living was easy before they grabbed us off
the streets in vans and gang-raped us and bashed us with
baseball bats, smashing us not looking where, arms, head,
chest, stomach, legs, and filmed it, and dumped us, some o f us
lived, some o f us died, or before they set dogs on us to fuck us,
and filmed it, or before they cut us open, to ejaculate on us,
and filmed it, or before they started urinating on us, using us
like common toilets, to film it; but I don’t expect to be listened
to or believed, certainly even the simplest things o f an already
distinguished life cannot be believed, I couldn’t say anything
simple in the whole course o f my actual life and have there be
belief; as if justice for me, from him to me, could count; but I
been through that; my grievances on that score are between
the lines, at least there, always read the white space; I’m tired
from it and I’m sad; Walt could say blah blah blah this will
come and this will come and this will be and he was venerated
for dreaming, as if his dreams was true dreams o f a true future;
my nightmares are true dreams o f a true future. I’m not alone;
though I can’t find them; in the dark raped girls wander;
smashing drunks; sometimes someone sets one on fire; I see
the flames; I smell the carcass; the raped have stopped being
kind, generally speaking, though it’s still a secret. I personally
have done the following. I have blown up several rape
emporiums. I don’t have bombs or explosives but I cannot be
stopped. I steal a car; I back it into the rape emporium when it’s
deserted; I make a fuse to the gas tank; I light the fuse; the
whole thing blows; it’s simple, if a bit extravagant. Any man
will follow any feminine looking thing down any dark alley;
I’ve always wanted to see a man beaten to a shit bloody pulp
with a high-heeled shoe stuffed up his mouth, sort o f the pig
with the apple; it would be good to put him on a serving plate
but you’d need good silver. Y ou ’re the piece o f ass; he’s
invulnerable, o f course; it’s his right, to come after you; so if
he follows you and you have the urge to smash him to death
he’s asked for it, hasn’t he? I mean, he actually did ask for it.
The army o f raped ghosts got together and we marched, we
marched, we marched in Times Square and the Tenderloin
and Soho; we marched; everywhere there’s neon we’ve
marched; we visit the slave auctions; we have the names o f the
pimps, addresses, photos, telephone numbers, social security
numbers; I plaster their neighborhoods with pictures o f them;
I say they are pimps who slaughter women for fun and money;
I say he’s at your P. T . A., he’s with your children; I pursue
him; the army o f raped ghosts stays on his tail; we drive him
out. They hide; they run. One day the women will burn down
Times Square; I’ve seen it in my mind; I know; it’s in flames.
The women will come out o f their houses from all over and
they will riot and they will burn it down, raze it to the ground,
it will be bare cement; and we will execute the pimps. No
woman will ever be hurt there again; ever; again; it is a simple
fact. I threw blood all over their weaponry; their whips; their
chains; their spiked dildos; their leashes; I have buckets o f
blood, nurses give it to me, raped nurses; and I cover
everything, the slave clothes, the bikinis, the nighties, the
garter belts, and the things they tie you down with and the
things they stick up you and the things they hurt you with,
nipple clips and piercing things; I drench them in blood; I
make them blood-soaked, as is a woman’s life; I think over
time I will engage in a new art, painting their world blood red
as they have painted mine; simple self-expression, with a
political leaning but neither right nor left per se, the anti-rape
series it will be called, with real life as the canvas; and I will try
to make the implicit explicit; a poet said, make the implicit
explicit; a political theorist said, make the implicit explicit; the
blood o f women is implicit in the weaponry; I will take the
blood o f women implicit in the weaponry and I will make it
explicit; and from this I enunciate another political principle,
which is, The blood o f women is implicit, make it explicit.

http://www.amazon.ca/Mercy-A-Novel-Andrea-Dworkin/dp/0941423883

3DimensionalGirl wrote:

I was curious so I did some internet sleuthing. It's from her novel Mercy (info here), which is a sort of fictional autobiography. The quote comes from this long passage that seems sort of free thought (there were no good paragraph breaks for me to figure out where to start and stop). So here's a long passage that includes the quote.

> There’s anonymous women movingthrough the night; I have my husband here, right in front o fme, I have a gun to his head, I pull the trigger, it is anexecution, my right, any time, any place; his life is mine,because he hurt me; dreadful; a dreadful hurt. I want himexecuted so I can be free o f fear; and if there was justice I coulddo it any time, any place; I’d have the gun; I’d have the choice;I’d have the right. I think I have a twin in the night, some girlstanding in for me; who will just smash his fucking head in. Ithink one day they will gather, the women, outside where helives, I think there will be thousands o f them, I think it will be acrowd, a mob, a riot, a revolution, and I think they will chanthis name, and I think they will surround his house, and I thinkthey will block the city streets for blocks, and I think they willstop traffic, and I think no one will be able to pass in or out andthey will stop the police from getting to him to protect himbecause they will stretch for miles and someone, an unknownsomeone, will kill him, it will be one and it will be all and noone will ever know who except for her herself, they will smashhim or shoot him or knife him, or fifty will knife him, or ahundred, but so it’s final, not making a mistake, they will killhim good and real and quick, and no one will know who,because it will be all o f them; for me; do this; for me; and whenan indictment is read they will all stand up; for me; includingthe ones who heard me scream and including the ones whoweren’t born yet. My eyes work. I see. It is not a mystery. Ifit’s in front o f you you can see how it works itself out. It’s notprophecy; it’s simple seeing; what is there; now; naked fromthe lies. I see the future, a pretty place. The men make a sexcircus, we are the performing animals. There are hoops o f fire,we are chained in cages, they whip us to make us jump: highenough for them to look under. We jump, we hop, we spreadour legs; they’ll paint us purple underneath; or shave us so welook like babies; or put brands on us, or chains through us,underneath; they’ll hurt us, more; more than now; more;killing won’t be enough; rape will be the good old days, whenit was simple, how they just forced us, in private, or how theyjust beat us, with fists, in private, or how they put fingersinside us, when we were too small, underneath; we’ll be thedog-and-pony show; they’ll leash us and they’ll manacle usand they’ll paint us pink and we’ll have nostalgia for the goodold days when the living was easy before they grabbed us offthe streets in vans and gang-raped us and bashed us withbaseball bats, smashing us not looking where, arms, head,chest, stomach, legs, and filmed it, and dumped us, some o f uslived, some o f us died, or before they set dogs on us to fuck us,and filmed it, or before they cut us open, to ejaculate on us,and filmed it, or before they started urinating on us, using uslike common toilets, to film it; but I don’t expect to be listenedto or believed, certainly even the simplest things o f an alreadydistinguished life cannot be believed, I couldn’t say anythingsimple in the whole course o f my actual life and have there bebelief; as if justice for me, from him to me, could count; but Ibeen through that; my grievances on that score are betweenthe lines, at least there, always read the white space; I’m tiredfrom it and I’m sad; Walt could say blah blah blah this willcome and this will come and this will be and he was veneratedfor dreaming, as if his dreams was true dreams o f a true future;my nightmares are true dreams o f a true future. I’m not alone;though I can’t find them; in the dark raped girls wander;smashing drunks; sometimes someone sets one on fire; I seethe flames; I smell the carcass; the raped have stopped beingkind, generally speaking, though it’s still a secret. I personallyhave done the following. I have blown up several rapeemporiums. I don’t have bombs or explosives but I cannot bestopped. I steal a car; I back it into the rape emporium when it’sdeserted; I make a fuse to the gas tank; I light the fuse; thewhole thing blows; it’s simple, if a bit extravagant. Any manwill follow any feminine looking thing down any dark alley;I’ve always wanted to see a man beaten to a shit bloody pulpwith a high-heeled shoe stuffed up his mouth, sort o f the pigwith the apple; it would be good to put him on a serving platebut you’d need good silver. Y ou ’re the piece o f ass; he’sinvulnerable, o f course; it’s his right, to come after you; so ifhe follows you and you have the urge to smash him to deathhe’s asked for it, hasn’t he? I mean, he actually did ask for it.The army o f raped ghosts got together and we marched, wemarched, we marched in Times Square and the Tenderloinand Soho; we marched; everywhere there’s neon we’vemarched; we visit the slave auctions; we have the names o f thepimps, addresses, photos, telephone numbers, social securitynumbers; I plaster their neighborhoods with pictures o f them;I say they are pimps who slaughter women for fun and money;I say he’s at your P. T . A., he’s with your children; I pursuehim; the army o f raped ghosts stays on his tail; we drive himout. They hide; they run. One day the women will burn downTimes Square; I’ve seen it in my mind; I know; it’s in flames.The women will come out o f their houses from all over andthey will riot and they will burn it down, raze it to the ground,it will be bare cement; and we will execute the pimps. Nowoman will ever be hurt there again; ever; again; it is a simplefact. I threw blood all over their weaponry; their whips; theirchains; their spiked dildos; their leashes; I have buckets o fblood, nurses give it to me, raped nurses; and I covereverything, the slave clothes, the bikinis, the nighties, thegarter belts, and the things they tie you down with and thethings they stick up you and the things they hurt you with,nipple clips and piercing things; I drench them in blood; Imake them blood-soaked, as is a woman’s life; I think overtime I will engage in a new art, painting their world blood redas they have painted mine; simple self-expression, with apolitical leaning but neither right nor left per se, the anti-rapeseries it will be called, with real life as the canvas; and I will tryto make the implicit explicit; a poet said, make the implicitexplicit; a political theorist said, make the implicit explicit; theblood o f women is implicit in the weaponry; I will take theblood o f women implicit in the weaponry and I will make itexplicit; and from this I enunciate another political principle,which is, The blood o f women is implicit, make it explicit.