Rebecca Amherst Whore ❤️❤️

About Winnipeg

Whore ain’t just some chick sellin’ skin. Nah, it’s deeper—power, survival, rebellion. Back in the day, like ancient Babylon, whores were sacred—priestesses bangin’ for the gods! Can ya believe that? Blew my mind when I read it. Made me happy—women runnin’ the show, not takin’ crap. But then, patriarchy crashed the party, flipped it, and bam—whore’s a slur. Pissed me off, honestly. Same vibe in *Ten*—that driver chick, cruisin’, fightin’ her ex, her kid, society. “You’re tearing me apart!” she yells. Whore’s like that—torn, judged, still kickin’.

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Twelve Brechtian tableaux chronicle the life and death of a whore, starting out as a documentary on prostitution, ending as a Monogram B movie.

Sometimes I'm in awe—like, really awestruck—by the way our city hums. Even on quiet nights near Oak Alley, I feel the beat. It's like Godard said, “Goodbye to Language,” and I let that echo land.

Jose Antonio Vargas challenges Amherst to rethink what it means to be American