So I was on the road most of the day today, including New York City rush-hour traffic and suddenly I do not love humans very much. Then I came home to only dial-up for fuck's sake. And the milk had gone sour and I still can't find the dead mouse in the wall. It is there, somewhere, or perhaps the fridge finally needs thorough cleaning. What do you think? Don't say anything.
Then I read some of the posts (I mistyped that first as boasts) on a new duh-feminism website (or so it seems to me right now), and came across a post about how very unnecessary the old-style-feminism has become:
The same woman at the Times who snagged me in the elevator that day had done the same thing on an earlier occasion, to ask about a semi-spurious trend story published in the paper that day. It described Yale students and recent graduates (I'm one) who were planning to "opt out" for a year or two or five when they spawned. She was aghast to hear that I didn't have strong feelings either way, and warned me against dropping out of the workforce. God help my shallow self, as I stood there looking at her rumpled suit and dated hair and frown lines, I was overwhelmed with pity. Perhaps watching me breeze into the life she had so laboriously carved out for herself—or worse, stray from the hard line in a way that she and other feminists couldn't allow themselves to—felt to her like a bitter betrayal.
But it felt great to me.
So it's all settled then? Glad to hear that, though perhaps feminism is a little bit more than about the personalities of individual women or the nastiness of two of them, don't you think? And ageism isn't that pretty, either. But whatever. Duh.
Now this is fun. I think that I'm going to start writing posts like that, too. It's easy, takes no research and I'm sure I can think of something outrageous. For instance, I used to bite my toe nails when I was a tiny goddess. Then I'd spit them out all over the living-room rug. There is no need for nail clippers in my world.
Speaking of my world, I received some mail for my bullying piece. May I gently point out to all the nasties out there that I'm not the same as 'all feminists', that what I say is not the dogma of the feminist movement (as you can see from the above quote, duh) and that, indeed, I have no official standing among the stern sturm-troops of professional enforcers of feminist discipline. I am me. Is that so hard to comprehend? And isn't that ultimately what the feminist movement is trying to hammer into the thick skulls of nasties everywhere? That women are every bit as much individuals as men and deserve to be treated as such?
Finally, I don't like to argue with very stupid people. It's a waste of time and I don't get paid for the teaching. If you want to debate feminism, first at least read about it.