The real red shoes: year one

It’s been a year since I’ve shown you my real red shoes. I got out of my attic and I started dancing. I didn’t quit dancing and they haven’t cut my feet off. I feel that my initial idea based on Margaret Atwood’s Lady Oracle was not quite right. At least, so far I haven’t noticed anyone directly trying to cut anyone’s feet off. But I fear that now they found another much subtler way than that. They are not barbarians or anything. They now merely look the other way; they get into your mind convincing you that you don’t need the shoes, that there is no hope.

 
But you have to keep dancing no matter what. You have to remember that the red shoes are not necessarily bad for you. If you click your heels together you might go back home, right?

The real red shoes...

"The real red shoes, the feet punished for dancing. You could dance, or you could have the love of a good man. But you were afraid to dance, because you had this unnatural fear that if you danced they'd cut your feet off so you wouldn't be able to dance. Finally, you overcame your fear and danced, and they cut your feet off. The good man went away too, because you wanted to dance."

Margaret Atwood, Lady Oracle

This quote from Margaret Atwood says a lot about writing or living fearlessly as a free woman. So for this blog I had to put my red shoes on and start dancing, the real red shoes because someone made me to. 

I came across this quote while reading The Madwoman in the attic, criticism on women's writing in the Victorian times. Unfortunately, we are still hiding in our attics in the 21st century. This is my way of abandoning mine.