I contend not with men and their rhetoric, but with self and its defiance to the greatness that is alive in me.

I contend not with the debates of ideals, philosophies or idle banter of religious superiority, but with flesh and its insistence that I accept today as though it were the defining standard of tomorrow.

I contend not with society’s woes or its flagrant hedonistic proclivities, but with the rampant portrayals of self-degradation, gender emasculation and the rejection of tolerance and love.

I contend... daily... not against men of flesh and blood but against the ideology that good is enough, love is irrelevant and the hope of something profound is all but dead. I contend... daily... not against women of flesh and blood but against lies that seek to define me—restrict me—to ‘my place’ as a single woman, lover or friend. I contend, daily. It’s me vs. them—one of these will die. And it ain’t gonna be me.