Shorter Twisty Faster: “It’s OK to be condescending to women… as long as you’re a woman”

Sigh.

I’m not going to write about the Spitzer mess at present, it requires more concentration and I am sick and swamped with work, but this quote in particular stuck out at me:

I suspect that the rampant willingness among young feminists to deny this grim truth stems from the wholly untenable position into which it thrusts ’em. They’re young, they’re fit, they wanna boink; who can blame them if they just aren’t ready to accept that nothing short of an exhaustive, uncompromising overthrow of the social order will put them in complete control of their own selves?

If a man condescended like this to women, we’d rip him a new one. But a spinster aunt? She is cheered, or, at the very worst, ignored. Ever notice how much of Twisty’s writing is preoccupied with criticizing those silly straight women’s sexual habits? You have to wonder who she’s really pissed off at… the patriarchy? Or someone else? Either way, it’s more double standards from a person who spoke about “capitalist pigs” in the same post that contained her announcement about buying a horse (I assume the horse was bought with capital, of course… If it was bartered for, I apologize) – this may seem like gratuitous snark, but the truth is, we all engage in our little hypocrisies, and Twisty is no different (and neither am I). It’s what makes us human. Problem is, my personal is all political, while Twisty’s is just personal. See the contradiction there?

This type of feminism is like standing Original Sin on its head (thanks, Belle, for the tip-off). Original Sin terminology, which is very much alive today, is all about “men = good, women = bad” (they don’t usually spell it out nowadays… Usually, this is couched in rhetoric such as, “but, you know, Eve sinned.” Speaking of which, I really ought to do a translation of a hilarious Russian Orthodox Taliban-type I found on APN.ru recently). Now it’s “men=bad, women=good” and the same rules for Salvation apply: sex has to be re-codified, a withdrawal from the mainstream is necessary, you must proselytize, abstain from teh evil, etc.

Twisty’ also wants to tell us that one day, we’ll be sorry, which is the classic tactic of fire-and-brimstone preachers everywhere.

I can’t speak for anyone else, but my personal response to such statements is mirthless laughter. Continue reading “Shorter Twisty Faster: “It’s OK to be condescending to women… as long as you’re a woman””

Ukrainian women react against Yushchenko’s sexist and silly 8th of March speech

Signatures are no longer being collected, but if you can read Ukrainian, this open letter to the President is useful to browse nonetheless.

Basically, people are outraged that on the 8th of March, International Women’s Day, the President launched into a saccharine speech about how the ladiez are so lovely and admired by men… in a country where women are trafficked and rape is barely prosecuted. The undersigned believe that the 8th of March is there to first and foremost highlight the struggle for women’s rights, and that the President dropped the ball when he spoke about the “beauty” and “wonder” of women – while completely ignoring the actual daily struggles of Ukrainian females, struggles that the government refuses to fully address. And I agree with the undersigned.

It’s been pointed out to me that Yulia Tymoshenko, the current Prime Minister, actually made a speech that managed to be worse. Now, I didn’t hear the original, but was told that she said something about how the 8th of March is the “one day” in the year when Ukrainian women are not required to do housework.

Of course, Yulia is a billionaire who has maids to do her housework, and so I’m really not surprised. Rules are different for rich and poor throughout the world, but in Ukraine, this is especially true for women. And a female politician can revel in this on public radio on the 8th of March. And so it goes.

Anyway, I was really glad to see these women calling out the heads of state on their BS.

Ukrainians deserve better.

By the way, comments along the lines of, “omigod Natalia, how dare you go against the glorious Orange leaders, you moskal’ ” will be deleted. I am in no mood for BS myself.

How NOT to friend me on Facebook

Message me with any variation on the following: “hai can we be friendz lol bye.”

Ask me the following: “u look hot to handle… will I melt if I touch?”

Have any of the following in the Interests section of your profile: “f(uc)king girls,” (thank you so much for clarifying, it’s good to know you’re not into farm animals)

“getting laid,”

“buying new threads,”

“p(us)sy posse” (the only thing sadder that Leonardo Dicaprio’s 1990’s public persona is imitating Leonardo Dicaprio’s 1990’s public persona),

“livin’ it up” (the apostrophe says it all),

“da bomb” (why is that still in your lexicon? And why is it part of your interests? Are you into linguistic terrorism?),

and “laughing at fat people” (I have done a fair amount of fat-shaming in my life, before I realized just how inexcusable that sort of thing was. But Jay-sus, putting that in a social networking profile is something that I wouldn’t have done on my worst day. You’re a loser. Bye).

Put up a magazine scan of an oiled-up torso as your profile picture.

List various body parts as “favourite food” in the About Me section and, furthermore, direct my attention to this.

Tell me that “The Da Vinci Code is really, really deep.”

This… Is… Germaine Greer!

omigod!

The above is called “fun with Photo Booth at 4 a.m.” Leonidas is attacking from behind. *cough*

Germaine Greer hates me. I know it. For reals.

As I go about my days, fiddling with fairy tales, hunting for a good pair of platform sandals, drinking bad instant coffee, and dealing with my homicidal rage at Ben from “Lost,” I often pause and wonder – “Would Germaine approve?”

The answer is always “NO. Especially if you have to ask to begin with.” Hence, she hates me. And, she hates you too, most likely.

We are, of course, in exalted company. Germaine doesn’t like supermarkets, the colour pink, waitresses who delight in their own décolletage (of course, it’s always been OK for Ms. Greer to delight in her own – she’s a classy intellectual, not some trashy tart), and Hillary Clinton. She also hates transgender people, Steve Irwin, Princess Diana, and, well, pretty much anyone who takes the world’s attention away from Germaine Greer.

Being the subject of Germaine Greer’s hate is like having a pissed-off Spartan barrel down upon you with spear aloft. The reason for this has to do with the fact that Ms. Greer has made an entire career out hating things. Back in the day, she hated women if they happened to be too timid. Now she hates them if they are too brash.

You can’t win someone like that. You don’t even want to try. You’ll end up in a broom closet somewhere, sucking your thumb and whimpering for Valium.

Wherein lies the appeal of King Leoni… Germaine Greer? Is it because most people agree with her? I don’t think so. I think it has to do with the fact that there is something delicious about being hated in this fashion.

Consider this: I own a few pink wardrobe items. They’re not particularly outlandish, and, the sad truth is, most of them aren’t even that well-made. So, I don’t get particularly excited when I throw my closet open and discover that one of the few clean things left is a pale-pink oxford shirt I should have replaced at least a year ago… Until I read Greer’s diatribe against pink, that is.

Suddenly, wearing that pale-pink oxford shirt that should have been replaced at least a year ago is a STATEMENT. It is a PROVOCATION.

It is saying, “bugger off, Germaine, you patronizing, pseudo-feminist kill-joy, I will wear whatever I damn please.” It is saying, “I am among the ranks of Steve Irwin and Princess Diana!” It is saying, “tonight! We dine! In pink!”

It is also, according to Germaine, an action that invokes genitalia and, ah, other body parts. Which is just the icing on the cake, really, because while I always want to be exciting and artfully suggestive, sometimes, it’s just too much work. Now, all I have to do is put on a damn oxford shirt, and I’m practically Nabokov.

Same goes for cleavage. And being able to navigate the produce aisle.

Amazing, really, how much meaning and purpose can be found in the most ordinary tasks and abilities if Gerard… I mean, Germaine, shows you the way.

I can’t wait for Germaine Greer to stumble upon “Lost.” Or write a diatribe about bad instant coffee.

“Real Women” vs… What? Soulless Cyborgs? No, really.

I’ve been writing about beautiful boys, and linden trees, and women who live inside green, grassy hills. Fairy tales, in short. However, the spectacle of what passes for radical feminism these days continues to distract me from my work.

“Avert thine eyes, Natalia.”

I can’t.

Consider this post from Mary at Beyond Feminism. I’ve read Mary’s about page, and she immediately struck me as a very likable human being. I can relate to being bonkers. I too like pink kitties.

Therefore, I have to ask: Why Mary, why? Continue reading ““Real Women” vs… What? Soulless Cyborgs? No, really.”