Inga Muscio - Cunt: A Declaration of Independence Expanded and Updated Second Edition

Writers tend to put acknowledgment pages in their books becauseunless authored by the very vain or very hermetic-books do not come to fruition without the support and love of many, many individuals.

In college, I learned the value of unqualified support from a single human being. Dr. Leo Daugherty read my stories, poems, essays and interviews with a sensitivity and insight I hadnt experienced since elementary school, when Mrs. Lingle and Mrs. Housemy second and third grade teachers, respectively prodded my imagination with a gusto I was wholly unappreciative of at the time. I extend my deepest regards to these three educators.

From the outset of this book, Holly Marie Morris was the single human being who believed in me so much my heart positively swells . Trust and respect are huge gifts. I do not take lightly Hollys inspiration for bringing these gifts into my life. Cunt would never, ever, ever have been written if I hadnt seen her that day in New York, gliding cross the room in her cream linen suit like grace was a word made specially with her in mind. Holly, I love you dearly.

My mother was the first person to read an early draft of Cunt . Because her experiences are so integral to my writing, I hoped to procure her blessing before venturing on to a rewrite. Not only is my mother from a different culture, but many of my beliefs are difficult for someone of her generation to understand. Regardless, she never paused in support of my words. She did not ask me to edit out a single iota of her life experiences. Her courage overwhelms me. I am honored to be her daughter.

I gave the final draft of Cunt to my brother, Joe B., and my sister, Elizabeth, for Christmas 1997. A man of few words, my brother left a concise message on my voice mail two weeks later, Its killer, he said. Goddamn, this is just killer. My sister, a person I have aptly nicknamed Hard Customer, called me at least twice a week for a month, gushing with excitement and love.

Obviously, Joe B. and Liz are my siblings and lot of people might think, Of course they had nice things to say, but it is an absolute veracity that my brother and sister would never say things to spare my feelings. If theres shit to be talked, rest assured, they are the first to talk it.

I dont thank them solely for reading my book with such care and devotion, I thank them for letting me know I am as precious to them as they are to me. It is extremely painful that we learned the preciousness of life through the death of our brother, but all the same, I am glad we learned this.

Jennie Goode and Faith Conlon. Goode and Faith, need I say more? Their Goode Faith in Cunt deserves accolades of candy and champagne forever. I know it is considered a risk to publish this book, and they, along with the entire staff of Seal PressLee Damsky, Ingrid Emerick, Laura Gronewold, Kate Loeb, Lisa Okey and Lynn Siniscalchirose to the occasion like prima ballerinas aloft. And dont even get me started on Jennie Goodes paranormal levels of comprehension. Lordisa.

Likewise, many thanks to Leigh Feldman. Her belief in this project wasgiven the aforementioned risk factorastounding. I will never forget the day she told me she felt like standing on the rooftop screaming cunt at the top of her lungs. Thank you. You rule.

Loraine Harkin, naturopathic physician, kindly read the manuscript and shared her knowledge. Her input and support for Cunt were greatly appreciated.

When it was time to get jacket and press photos taken, I went with a gut feeling and called Rebecca McBride. The resulting photographs freaked me out. It was as if she prowled around in my dreamworld and somehow duplicated the precise images I could conjure only nebulous words to describe. Rebecca is a genius.

Sybil, Paul, Memphis, Erin and Christopher were so kind to me during a very difficult time. Ditto Peri Heydari Pakroo, Oh My!, Turtle, Parisha and Jason Speewhoreski.

Lisa Vogel and the Michigan Womyns Music Festival inspired me and goaded me on in ways Im sure they are completely unaware of.

Whenever I feel like maybe theres no magic in the world, maybe Ive been wrong this whole time, I just think of Panacea and Mr. Quintron, and I know there are always spells to cast and pussycats to cavort with.

Om. Her voice, her love, her letters from Japan. How I love Om. Elizabeth Faye spoils her women with laughter and massages. Gasperini sends her women skateboards in the mail, which makes them have total spontaneous orgasms of joy. Dawn Kiss, the beautiful, passionate snowboarding punk rock valkyrie ablaze.

Bridget Irish, 100 percent Irish, born on St. Patricks Day. Bridget tells me I can do anything I want. When voices in my head say stuff like, Inga, you cant call him Keith Piece of Shit Richards, Bridgets face floats into my frontal lobe, and I know, I can call him Keith Piece of Feral Dogshit Smeared on the Washington Monument Richards, if I want.

I am intensely grateful for the support and love of dearest Kotexi, Bart, Mrs. L. and Dr. Flusty.

If home is where the heart is, my heart is where Bambi, Shug, Sini and Alisun are. All four of my housemates listened to me wrestle with various chapters, put up with my freakish hours and respected the importance of bunny ears. My week sucks if Bambi and I dont have our Sunday morning coffee n smokes session. Shugs bright, blazing smile is a pillar of our community. I could listen to Sinis hilarious stories for hours on end. Alisuns logical mind has improved the quality of my life hundreds of times. She never misses a follicle of inconsistency.

I love you all so very much.

And the genius filmmaker, Harperetta Carter. My heart grieves for those who underestimate her scathing perspective on life and society, which she cleverly hides in her sweet, sweet smile and grandmother-spiced tenderness.

At three o clock in the morning, when I hafta share something, to cry or hear a beautiful story, I call Riz, my sunshine in the dead of night. He never gets mad at me even if I wake him up. He is groggy for a few minutes and then swings right into a tirade about love, Oprah, his Grandmother. If I was stuck on my book, I always knew somehow or other Riz would unstick me.

The psycho-enchanting and beautiful Ali . brought into my lifeamong many exemplary thingsthe following sentence: You dont get what you deserve, you get what you negotiate. For that little gem alone, I am forever indebted to her.

Kinnie Starr, Toni Childs, Diamanda Galas, MeShell NdegOcello, Sinad OConnor, Tracy Chapman, the Immortal Caruso and Chet Baker: I wore out their CDs working on my book. I wore out the repeat button on my CD player. I disgusted neighbors who wondered what kind of freckin fruitcake would listen to the same goddamn CD for six hours straight, night after night. I thank them for making music in the world. Diamanda, especially, helped me with the chapter on rape. It was the most painful one for me to write and without Diamandas presence in my kitchen, I dont know how I could have managed.

I extend my deepest gratitude to Dr. Daniel Schiff, but ask his forgiveness for not including him in the acknowledgments last time around.

There are a number of other folks that I forgot to thank, chief among them, my Aunt Genie. How I neglected to acknowledge her is a mystery to me. I also didnt thank my Grammy, who died in February 2001. Let it be known that both of these women have served as role models to me my entire life and I would not know the first thing about asserting myself had I not been blessed with the honor of experiencing them in action since day one.