Sylvia Plath (Mujeres que inspiran a Mujeres)
Hola gente de La Mujer y su Sexualidad. Vengo a hablaros de una mujer escritora que decidió quitarse la vida un día como hoy 11 de febrero hace 60 años. No era la primera vez que lo intentaba, ya lo hice en la universidad con 20 años. No sólo era una gran escritora si no que en 2011 a través de una publicación se dieron a conocer sus dibujos.
En su novela, La campana de cristal reflejó todo el infierno vivido por su trastorno afectivo bipolar.
Su poemario Arielse publicó póstumamente en 1965. Dicen que fue una de las representantes de la poesía confesional. Un tipo de poesía en la que el autor confiesa detalles íntimos de su vida, digo yo si no es todo confesional últimamente, aquí dejo un debate abierto.
En parte el sufrimiento que transmitía en su poesía era inspirado por su turbio matrimonio con el también poeta Ted Hughes.
Aquí os dejo una canción de Lana del Rey para la que Sylvia Plath es una gran inspiradora, Hope is a dangerous thing que dice así:
He estado dando vueltas con mi maldito camisón / 24/7 Sylvia Plath / Escribiendo con sangre en las paredes / Porque la tinta de mi bolígrafo no funciona en mi libreta / No preguntes si soy feliz, sabes que no lo soy.
I was reading Slim Aarons and I got to thinking that I thought
Maybe I'd get less stressed if I was tested less like
All of these debutantes
Smiling for miles in pink dresses and high heels on white yachts
But I'm not
Baby, I'm not
No, I'm not
That, I'm not
I've been tearing around in my fucking nightgown
24/7 Sylvia Plath
Writing in blood on the walls
'Cause the ink in my pen don't work in my notepad
Don't ask if I'm happy, you know that I'm not
But, at best, I can say I'm not sad
'Cause hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have
Hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have
I had fifteen-year dances
Church basement romances, yeah, I've cried
Spilling my guts with the Bowery Bums
Is the only love I've ever known
Except for the stage, which I also call home, when I'm not
Servin' up God in a burnt coffee pot for the triad
Hello, it's the most famous woman you know on the iPad
Calling from beyond the grave, I just wanna say, "Hi, Dad"
I've been tearing up town in my fucking white gown
Like a goddamn near sociopath
Shaking my ass is the only thing that's
Got this black narcissist off my back
She couldn't care less, and I never cared more
So there's no more to say about that
Except hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have
Hope is a dangerous thing for a woman with my past
There's a new revolution, a loud evolution that I saw
Born of confusion and quiet collusion of which mostly I've known
A modern day woman with a weak constitution, 'cause I've got
Monsters still under my bed that I could never fight off
A gatekeeper carelessly dropping the keys on my nights off
I've been tearing around in my fucking nightgown
24/7 Sylvia Plath
Writing in blood on your walls
'Cause the ink in my pen don't look good in my pad
They write that I'm happy, they know that I'm not
But, at best, you can see I'm not sad
But hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have
Hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have
Hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have
But I have it
Yeah, I have it
Yeah, I have it
I have
