[b]Tara Westover
Of the nature of women, nothing final can be known.[/b]
So, what do you think, of the nature of men too?
I had decided to study not history, but historians.
Let’s explain the difference.
Tyler stood to go. There’s a world out there, Tara, he said. And it will look a lot different once Dad is no longer whispering his view of it in your ear.
And not just Dad of course.
Not knowing for certain, but refusing to give way to those who claim certainty, was a privilege I had never allowed myself. My life was narrated for me by others. Their voices were forceful, emphatic, absolute. It had never occurred to me that my voice might be as strong as theirs.
On the other hand, there’s always this: That maybe it shouldn’t be.
This seemed so obvious to me now, it was difficult to understand why I had ever believed anything else.
And, on some days, for me, dasein being the least of it.
I begin to reason with myself, to doubt whether I had spoken clearly: what had I whispered and what had I screamed? I decide that if I had asked differently, been more calm, he would have stopped. I write this until I believe it, which doesn’t take long because I want to believe it. It’s comforting to think the defect is mine, because that means it is under my power.
For philosophers of course that’s just a trick of the trade.