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American woman

June 23, 2008

The intensity and sheer unadulterated thirst for all life’s pleasure and sorrows of some of the American women I had the fortune to meet never ceases to astound me. Perhaps it’s that I grew up in Prague, a city drenched in traditional attitudes towards feminine roles and attitudes, and so I relish the unbound nature and utter abandon of the American female.

From the intellectual deftly defying the castigation of her university’s department to pursue her passions for female reproductive health and get NSF funding for it, to the classics scholar who moonlighted as a jockey and breaker of wild horses to write plays and article on top of that; to the young web enterpreneuer who hot rod’s old Volkswagens and researches chips for Intel; the Texan oil prospector building a life-searching instrument to be flow to Mars; to the real estate speculator and bike racer and finally the English teacher who used to be a dominatrix in San Francisco.

Such a pedigree: The American soil produces titanic femmes who reach to the stars.

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