Him, on all fours, knees in the dirt, ass in the air, head bowed down. She spreads her lips, pushes her hips forward and sprays the patriarchy. It gushes from her, warm. It's the build up of hanging on tight, of a swollen bladder, of a gendered history of domination. Here now, under the stars, beside the beheaded male torso sculpture, she gets the pleasure of pissing on the patriarchy.
