Because I can. Obviously, not the whole story, but important nevertheless. Perhaps if I were a fabulous blues singer I wouldn't write. And it isn't enough simply to write. For me the very look of the piece must declare a refusal to accept the boundaries. Refusal. That's the key word. I write, at least at this stage of my life, I write because the images of myself, of the world of women, of what I am supposed to value, of my society, the accepted 'common-sense' of dominant segments of the Western project and of the place it has constructed for me, as well as the 'me' it has tried to construct are unacceptable. More important, these notions hinder, perhaps even prevent the development of 'whole' persons, and simple decency.
Harris, Claire, Why I Write, Kunapipi, 6(1), 1984.