Is This Feminist? |
Because being a marginally acceptable feminist is a full time job. |
This woman is taking a selfie. IS THIS FEMINIST?
Awww, doggie! Look at the little doggie. Look at his FACE! He’s such a good doggie, yes he is, he’s just a little cuddle-monster. Isn’t that right? Isn’t that right? Yes he is, he’s going to get his picture taken like a good boy, he’s a SMART doggie, yes you are! Yes you are! He’s just the smartest doggie with his cute little eyes and nose and face. He just loves to cuddle! He wants to be a famous doggie on the Internet, yes he does, yes he does! Doggie doggie doggie. GOOD boy. GOOD boy.
Oh, wait, shit, there’s a person in this? PROBLEMATIC.
This woman is the First Lady of the United States. IS THIS FEMINIST?
Absolutely not. First of all, you can only be the First Lady if you’re married to the President, and marriage is an incurably patriarchal construct which only serves to demean us all by making us do mutual chores and share our bedrooms and go for nice walks in the fall weather and sometimes just sit there and read the paper together and make just the silliest jokes and OH GOD CRAIG, WHY. WHY. WE COULD HAVE WORKED IT OUT. WE HAD A LIFE TOGETHER, CRAIG! A LIFE!!!
Anyway. She seems happy, and she’s really smart and accomplished, and she’s raising some really cool daughters, and doing things to make the world a better place, and basically, she does not appear to be drinking her third bottle of wine in front of the TV set whilst quietly sobbing. Feminists are drinking their third bottle of wine in front of the TV set whilst quietly sobbing. All of them. All the time. For political reasons. Because of how un-feminist marriage is. WHY ARE YOU TAUNTING US, WOMAN? PROBLEMATIC.
This woman is celebrating Halloween. IS THIS FEMINIST?
Are you kidding us? Halloween, in and of itself, is an appropriation of a day that carries deep significance for many people. No, we’re not talking about those weirdly insistent Wiccans who are like, “this holiday was STOLEN from us! It is called SAM-HAIN!” Which is weird, because that religion was invented in the 1950s by a British dude, and Halloween has been around since (we’re going to say) at least 1927, and for most of history “Samhain” was just the name of a nice quarterly farming festival with no religious significance other than “I sure hope pigs can pray, because this is the time of year when we make ham.” I mean, it’s mentioned in some Irish epics, but arguably that’s because if your society is so farming-centric that wealth is measured in cows, if you say “and this happened around the time when we kill the pigs for winter,” people will be like, “‘oh, right, late fall, sure.” Making that whole argument roughly analogous to a bunch of New Yorkers starting a religion and then claiming that the New York City Marathon has been regarded for millennia as a Door To The Underworld, because, look, it happens at the same time every year, and it was even mentioned on an episode of Seinfeld. (In this analogy, the New Yorkers also worship Elaine Benes.) That’s a little weird, but Wiccans are sweet people, and most of them acknowledge that historically the argument doesn’t hold up, and the insistent ones are just doing their thing, so don’t bother them, because, you know, different strokes. If it didn’t have religious significance before, it does now, so whatever.
No: We’re talking about ghosts. Every Halloween, millions of people maliciously and willfully exploit their “alive privilege” to “celebrate” Halloween, often by asking for foul corporate candy, completely ignorant of the fact that this is the one time of year when actual ghosts may prey on the sweet nectar of their fear and remind them that all glory shall fade when Death’s chill kiss claims us. Ah, no, there is no God, nor Gods, nor salvation, nor even release in death, only a faded twilight existence, and the gibbering terror beyond the walls of the world, and the dead… oh, no, the dead arise not for redemption, nor to comfort us with sweet lies of Heaven, but they arise filled with an unending rage. Their torment will never cease, for lo, they have passed through the veil and are condemned to walk the Earth forever, and you, mortal… well, you are alive. And they hate that. And they envy that. And they want that to change. They will claim you for their unholy ranks, sooner or later, for they know the great horror of nothingness, and will drag your soul with them to the Abyss only so that they may linger close to sweet warmth of your pounding human heart as it beats its last.
So, yeah. Nice costume, asshole. PROBLEMATIC.
This woman is reading the Internet. IS THIS FEMINIST?
… Look. We just hate you, all right? We’ve been trying to hold it in and be polite about it for a while, at which we have clearly succeeded awesomely, and it’s not you, or, well, actually, it is you, because we hate you, but whenever we make you up in our minds and imagine you asking us a question, all we can think about is how much we fucking hate you and wish you would go away. You NEVER know what’s feminist. NEVER. You are ALWAYS asking us questions. ALWAYS. And we hate it. And we hate you. We just hate you so much.
Anyway, she’s probably reading something on Tumblr, or whatever? That seems pretty feminist. Feminists read things on Tumblr, don’t they? We get that general sense. So, uh, yeah. Seems fine to us.
The important thing to remember here is: We hate you. All that you are, and all that you think, and all that you feel, and all that you do: We personally, viscerally, constantly just FUCKING HATE IT. That’s why you should listen to us, and let us tell you what to do, to empower you. God knows, a pathetic piece of slime like you could never empower herself. You need us here – again, HATING THE SHIT OUT OF YOU, AT ALL TIMES – giving you detailed instructions, or else you’ll never be liberated from sexist oppression, you stupid piece of crap. Hate is the most feminist emotion. Especially when it’s directed at you, for some reason. God, you suck. PROBLEMATIC.
I mean, not this lady. This lady is REPRESENTING FEMINISM, for now. But you? PROBLEMATIC. Oh, yes, we went there.
This woman is taking a birth control pill. IS THIS FEMINIST?
Really? Really? You should know better than to ask that question. We just puked in our mouths a little, hearing you ask that question. That’s how much better you should know. We just e-mailed all of your friends to tell them you asked us that question and we puked in our mouths because you asked it and you promote eating disorders because no-one can hear your stupid voice coming out of your smelly face without puking. You love making people puke and your face smells like puke because you are a stupid smelly puke person. “Mleeh mee mleeeeh, I want you to throw up on everything!” That’s YOU.
Anyway, aside from the fact that the medical establishment is founded on suppressing women’s internal wisdom, best expressed by our uses of herbs and tinctures, the very phrase “birth control” is patriarchal to the core, in that its construction refers to medicine’s attempts to “control” human bodies and even Mother Nature herself. The preferred term is “menstrual assistance,” or “thing that when you put it in your mouth you don’t get pregnant, no, the other thing,” or, ideally, “super-duper ova pooper.” Not that any of this matters, because this woman is blatantly appropriating “not being pregnant” from women with real fertility problems. PROBLEMATIC.
This woman is attending a concert for popular music of some kind. IS THIS FEMINIST?
Seriously? You’re asking us this? Wow. This is a new low for you. We’re disappointed in you for even asking this question, made-up person that we imagined to be asking us this question. Really. Just disappointed.
For starters, aside from the fact that we can’t even see the band she’s listening to, this woman is clearly not accessing a computer or mobile device of any kind. This means she cannot possibly be checking the Feminism-Compliance In Music Codex, a database which clearly identifies the current chart positions, album and single titles, feminism-compliance levels, and permissible opinions to publicly hold about any musician who has sold over four records, or played on a particularly crowded subway platform. It is updated every sixteen hours, and all feminism affiliates are expected to check it at no later than 9:30 A.M. each day to claim one of that shift’s three feminism-compliant opinions, which can be done by logging in at… you guys, does she have the log-in? I don’t think she even has the log-in. This woman is clearly, recklessly, and negligently forming her own opinion about the music she is hearing. As we all know, forming, holding, or voicing an opinion without being certain that everyone in the surrounding area will approve of it is unforgivable behavior in a woman, as established, clearly, by feminism. Which she would know if she checked the Codex.
Also, that hand-gesture she’s making is deeply offensive to people who worship the Texas Longhorns. PROBLEMATIC.
This woman is asking a question about the wage gap at the recent Presidential debate. IS THIS FEMINIST?
Seriously? SERIOUSLY???? We cannot believe you right now. This is the most anti-feminist thing we’ve literally ever seen in our lives. But at least this woman had the guts to admit it, in a recent interview in which she said that she cared about “women’s equality in the workforce,” “my reproductive rights,” and “[being] treated the same as anyone else.” She also said she was “absolutely not” a feminist, and clearly, she is right. No true feminist would so selfishly center herself in something as important as a Presidential debate, by standing up and asking the question she wanted to ask about an issue she cared about without checking to see whether any of us wanted her to ask that particular question. Some of us didn’t even get to ask a question. For example, us. We wanted to ask about cats. Do the candidates like cats? Which one of them likes cats more? If the political parties were different animals, which one would be a cat? What if the next President were a cat? Wouldn’t that be adorable? Do you think he or she would wear a little suit to work? “My fellow Catmericans,” the cat would say, “This is President Cat speaking.” Oh, my gosh, that would be so funny. Which candidate, if elected President, promises to elect a cat President? Ours is really cute, we named it President Cat. In conclusion: These are the sorts of vital feminist questions that went neglected due to this woman’s selfish focus on her own paycheck. PROBLEMATIC.
This woman is poet and novelist Sylvia Plath, best known for The Bell Jar and Ariel. IS THIS FEMINIST?
Divisive! Some people believe that Plath’s disastrous marriage to poet Ted Hughes, and her subsequent suicide, make her an emblematic figure: A talented, ambitious woman whose over-investment in a patriarchal false consciousness led her to rely on marriage, children, and domestic life as a means to attain self-worth. In the poems written after Hughes abandoned her, such as “The Applicant” and “Daddy," they see a liberating, if self-immolating, rage: A final realization that the sacrifices she had made for Hughes (typing his poems, being shamed into sewing his buttons, tolerating his flirtations with young female students, etc) and her obedience to patriarchal ideals of femininity had not protected her, that she had been cheated in some fundamental way. Others believe that this is an over-romanticized view of Plath’s lifelong struggle with her mental illness, that it relies on a simplistic view of what was ultimately a deeply complicated relationship between two flawed people, and that it ultimately does little more than to glorify female self-destruction, which cannot be a feminist project.
All of these people are wrong. In fact, Plath betrayed feminism, by the act of writing. Writing is inherently elitist and hierarchical; the "writer” is allowed the frankly unfair and dictatorial power of “choosing” which “words” to use in order to convey “meaning.” In every sentence, the writer systematically excludes millions of words by purposely not putting them in that sentence. When asked for a rationale for this exclusionary policy, some writers even assert that the words they chose were simply “better” for their purposes. “Better?" Obviously, any true feminist understands that purple growth beam flames turducken. Boat! Boat, raygun three, phlbbbt. PROBLEMATIC.
These women are attending a wedding. IS THIS FEMINIST?
Getting together to celebrate the preeminent institution of patriarchal oppression for all of human history, just because you want an excuse to wear your shoes that are too fancy for ordinary nights out? The shoes that are, in and of themselves, little instruments of high-heeled torture designed to remind women with every step that they are second class citizens? PROBLEMATIC.
But go anyway, because you want your friends to be happy, and frankly, those shoes are awesome.
This woman is apologizing for using an offensive word in her youth. IS THIS FEMINIST?
Absolutely not. Real feminists come out of the womb quoting bell hooks, and come complete with a force field that keeps them from absorbing negative cultural ideas. Indeed, feminist theory and analysis are irrelevant to personal growth because real feminists are born perfectly politically correct and never need to learn and grow. We just write those analyses for fun; they certainly aren’t there to educate. Everyone should always be treated like who they were at their worst moment. PROBLEMATIC.