The name Scarlett is usually associated with the protagonist of Nathaniel Hawthorne famous work, The Scarlet Letter. It is the story of a woman seeking to be independent and self determinant; hence fallen in the eyes of society.
If one were to search the words “scarlet woman” in an online free dictionary, he would find the below explanations “New Testament a sinful woman described in Revelation 17, interpreted as a figure either of pagan Rome or of the Roman Catholic Church regarded as typifying vice overlaid with gaudy pageantry or any sexually promiscuous woman, especially a prostitute”.
So, Scarlett, the color of blood, paint of seduction, a signal of danger, is a woman who may be a prostitute, promiscuous (a Bitch for our chivalrous lot), and a woman who poses some dangers to the society. She deserves to wear a sign around her neck, intimating the perils associated with her acquaintance.
I have yet to come across its male counterpart implying the same.
There is another Scarlett to be found in the books. And by purpose or coincidence, she holds similar characteristics. A woman who opts to work instead of bearing children and kindling the house hold fire place. A woman bold enough to display her brains alongside her beauty. And of course, she is no more a lady in the eyes of the old aristocratic circles very elaborately elucidated in the timeless Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell.
This is the genesis of my pen name, Scarlett. Because somehow, I am degenerate enough to empathize with the dignity and strength of both aforementioned Scarletts.
The Afterglow literally refers to the pleasurable feelings remaining after a gratifying or successful experience. Nevertheless the word is always misconstrued to the post- coital radiance. Despite the obvious dichotomy in its usage and enunciation; the afterglow in my writings is has been inspired by the light emitted after removal of a source of energy, especially the glow of an incandescent metal as it cools.
Too many Scarletts across a broad span of time have been sermonized, stamped upon, silenced, abused, and most of all judged and evaluated by the oh-ever-so-righteous.
It is the class of people who have taken it upon themselves to be the self appointed gods for the miscreant society which is bound to fall apart lest they impose their guard on it.
They have assumed the pedestals of morality and cloaked themselves in their own brand of prejudice. They scrutinize the not-so-conformists through their own tunneled views about appropriateness and decency. You will find them inspecting each and every one (regardless of the fact that it’s none of their business!) through their own spy glasses of norms and customs put in place to subdue the sinful.
They have demarcated the lines, and expect you to feel a certain way, and speak a specified set of words, move in society in a decided pattern and GOD FORBID if someone would be blasphemous enough to think! Oh, what a catastrophe would that be!
The afterglow of Scarlett’s observations and experiences of these every day atrocities deserves to be shaped into words.
Only because it’s getting too claustrophobic in my mind; there’s one too many heretics inside of me! And, I am be-ghairat (sic) enough not to be ashamed of it!
--Scarlett
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