Featured Post from Rof L Mao Esqby, 2 Days Ago at 11:19 PM
For anyone following the #womenagainstfeminism hashtag on Twitter, or the other online venues where this is trending, one will readily observe just how often the charge is made (or is it a defense?) that the W.A.F.s and friends simply "don't understand" feminism.
Actually, I think they're right. After a lifetime of being told, going back to the sixties, that my kind (the dread White Man) were responsible for pretty much everything bad that ever happened to anyone else not like us, I decided to check it out myself.
I read Brownmiller, Ehrenreich, Friedan, and Caldicott, to name but a few. I hung out with, worked with, listened to, and attended public events with, self-identifying feminists, for years. I saw women in the 80s wearing running shoes to work to "Take Back the Night" and went on to wonder if they had, as heels got higher and higher until anatomically self-immolating footwear had become the new symbol of "empowerment."
I married a feminist with a feminist mother. I watched my more intellectual, urbane male friends, one after another, go from being interesting, funny and spontaneous young men to being diaper-bag-toting stepnfetchits who could barely begin a sentence without the words "let me check with..." I worked with redneck manly men whose wives actually (wait for it) MADE THEM SANDWICHES, and who also in absolute seriousness called the little lady The Boss and meant it.
And all this time, in college towns and tourist towns, as well as cow towns, I kept thinking that, sooner or later, I would run into this Patriarchy that had all these gals stirred up. Ol' Pat must have done something REAL bad to these women, 'cause they just never seemed to stop looking for him behind every corner and in every action, thought, attitude or perceived slight on the part of men.
And still, I guess I just didn't "understand" feminism, hard as I'd tried. I remember the first time I got wind that things ...