[et_pb_section admin_label=”section”][et_pb_row admin_label=”row”][et_pb_column type=”1_2″][et_pb_image admin_label=”Image” src=”https://www.abigailmarkov.com/wp-content/uploads/Painting-115236.jpg” show_in_lightbox=”on” url_new_window=”off” use_overlay=”on” animation=”off” sticky=”off” align=”left” force_fullwidth=”off” always_center_on_mobile=”on” use_border_color=”off” border_color=”#ffffff” border_style=”solid” hover_icon=”%%51%%”] [/et_pb_image][/et_pb_column][et_pb_column type=”1_2″][et_pb_text admin_label=”Text” background_layout=”light” text_orientation=”left” use_border_color=”off” border_color=”#ffffff” border_style=”solid”]

It’s not a neat, clear, easy to process feeling. It’s an uncomfortable mix of indignation and forced-upon-you inadequacy, a mix of messy adrenaline-fed-heart-racing-in-your-ears fury, and spirit-crushing humiliation. It’s a streak of white hot rage running through your veins, searing your insides with nowhere to go, left to eat away at your insides after the fact.

Condescension is an uncomfortable, but very human, experience. 

Condescension
From On Being Human
12in x 12in
Encaustic on cradled panel.

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