If I were shabby no one would have me: a woman is asked out as much for her clothes as for herself.
He looks me to pieces … I realize now that I have been glimpsed and corner-of-the-eyed before, by the Chief and my sister and the yawning tourists. But I have never actually been looked at. Not like t...
There are plenty of images of women in science fiction. There are hardly any women.
There is no need for arms, physical violence, material constraints. Just a gaze. An inspecting gaze, a gaze that each individual under its weight will end by [internalising] to the point that they are...
I spent a lot of time vacillating between wanting to be seen as attractive, being terrified by too much attention, and wanting to succeed and fit in without anyone's noticing me.
She longed to be to him something more than a piece of sentient prettiness, a passing diversion to his eye and brain.