How to Crack a Code while Sulking
December 15, 2007
So there I was a few days ago, happy that I had 9 fabulous in a row (count ’em, I did) blog posts under my belt, when I stroll across this at the f-word. It is none other than Sudy, who is ragging on white-privileged feminists for not giving WOC due respect. She’s also mad that a book I haven’t read features a skinny white body part on the cover.
Ah well and good, but hey, we all can’t rag on the feminists at the same time – it will give them a complex, chocolate consumption will rise, they will possibly stop doing femini stuff – and then where will we be? Feminists are on our side, remember. We must take turns, I said firmly, brandishing my privilege from the get-go. You take the white-privilege feminists, and I’ll take the pro-pornies.
It so happens that she’s brownish and possibly pro-porn although I might be wrong on that one, and I’m pinkish and definitely anti-porn, so we’re in kitty corner camps. How purrrfectly awkward if true.
She also made me feel bad, damn her. After watching her video performance, I was consumed with a defensive outrage. How dare she insinuate that hastily left opinions impulsively typed into blog chatterboxes are the responsibility of feminists? How dare I be mad at her for blowtorching a strawfeminist when I did exactly same thing in my last blog post? I skittered through outrage and squeezed past remorse, quietly realizing I was teetering on hypocrisy – a very sorry place to be indeed.
But I also realized something else, as I was strolling through the f-word blog. All those posts, one after the other, all pointing out the sad indisputable truth that men still continue to objectify and dismiss half the human race — and yet somehow we’re not supposed to be mad at the little buggers because they bring us roses on valentine’s day.
In short, while contemplating my suckage as a blog hostess, I cracked the secret codebook of feminist rules, which must be followed meticulously if one is to wear the special feminist badge of crazy. The first rule is that feminists are not allowed to be angry at men, no matter what they do. We must blame culture instead, because blaming little shits for being little shits is strictly off-limits. The second rule clearly states that while it is a perfectly aceptable feminist pastime to deflect and deconstruct the many false accusations thrown at women, feminists must never throw any mud of their own. Feminists must be perfect at all times, even though men are constantly acting like little shits — especially then, apparently.
If you understand these rules already, well then bully for you. They make no sense to me. Because I’m evil, I operate under rules which actually reflect reality and use a methodology which is grounded in practicality. But reality requires a dedication to seek the truth regardless of how painful it may be; and practicality requires a commitment to discarding false promises and ineffectual dreams. I’m not sure how a feminist can look at 6000 years of men making one damn excuse after another for why we don’t need respect or rights, and still come to the insane conclusion that men really give a rat’s ass about women.
Most women will say that they don’t care why men are inherently sexist pigs, as long as men stop the sexist behavior. But if men are behaving well only because they want to keep the shrillest women pacified, then men will go right back to being sexist pigs first chance they get — because easy access to sex was always their primary motivator.
Oh sorry. That was probably too much reality. Go back to sleep Nigelia, it was all just a bad dream. Look! Other there! Cock! You can stop thinking now.