Category Archives: feminism

Reminder: You Are an Actual Person

It’s been a hell of a week. I don’t need to link to any of what’s been going on because, well, if you don’t already know you must be a mermaid living in King Triton’s undersea realm who is too busy trying to trade your voice to a sea witch in order to marry a random human prince to pay attention to Land News(TM), in which case, good luck with that.

If you identify as a woman, you are probably having a lot of feelings right now. Anger. Sadness. Fear. Defiance. High Priestess Michelle Obama–First of her name, Mother of Dragons and Malia and Sasha,Harvester of Organic Vegetables–summed it all up pretty well, I think.

If you identify as a woman this week, you’re probably also experiencing flashbacks. Flashbacks to the time your classmate reached down your shirt and groped at your (still flat) chest during story time when you were six and said this meant you were his girlfriend. To the time when your middle school teacher looked a little too long at your bare, white, unshaven thirteen-year-old legs on the first warm May day in seventh grade and remarked that he was “grateful it was shorts season.” To the time when your roommate came home crying because a boy tried to pressure her into sex before she was ready and called her a tease for refusing. To the time your heart was pounding in your chest as you walked down the dark New York street at nine p.m., worried that the strange man on the corner, angry at having his catcalls ignored, would follow through on his threats to “fucking rape and kill you, you ugly fat bitch.”

To all the times you were made to feel like nothing more than a receptacle for men’s feelings, from lust to disgust to rage to impulses of violence. To all the times you were reduced to body parts: boobs and butts and legs and hair and midriffs and arms and feet (yes, even feet). To all the times on the sidewalk you were told, unprompted, to smile.

To all the times you were made to feel like less than human. Like less than a person.

One definition of feminism is “the radical notion that women are people.”

A reminder for you, because I’ve needed to remind myself so often this week: you are an actual person. A human being. A soul. You are more than the meat on your bones. More than a number on a scale of attractiveness or weight or both. More than a reflection of what some men (and women) hate about themselves and the state of a scary and changing world.

I am an actual person. You are an actual person, too.

I love you.

Good night.

Uteri (Uteruses? No, uteri): A guide for beginners (A-Z Challenge)

Guys,

I’m a BIG fan of uteri. I spent nine months in one, as did nearly all of us (no judgment to those of you who were grown in a Borg maturation chamber; I do NOT discriminate–some of my best friends are cybernetic life forms!). I’m even usually okay with my own uterus, with the exception of about six days each month. But uteri are complicated. They do a lot of shit, and if you’re a man, or even a young girl, you probably don’t understand the workings an implications of uteri in general, or in having one in particular. As a uterus-haver for over three decades now, I thought I’d share my wisdom. Prepare to be enlightened.

How it works: Despite hundreds of years of Science(TM), the uterus remains an icky mystery that no one should learn about in school, ever. Allow me to provide some clarity:

The uterus is an internal organ that is attached to a woman’s (EW!) vagina by a Service; I’m not sure what kind of Service, like if it’s an app like Uber or what, but that’s how they’re connected. *SCIENCE SHRUG* Until puberty, the uterus is filled with a divine pure light, which dissipates the moment a young girl has her first period and becomes a disgustingly tempting sexual being who’d better keep her legs SHUT. Every month, a tiny baby is released from the ovary, which is like a baby dispensary, and floats down a straw into the uterus, which is nice and comfy for it with a bed and an open bar and a designer wardrobe and everything. Sadly, this baby is soulless until and unless a sperm comes in through the vagina (EW!) and the Service and makes it alive. If this happens, the baby is now the Unborn(TM) and is the most precious form of life you will ever see, at least until it is born, after which time it is ON ITS FUCKING OWN. If there is no sperm, however, the baby is just flushed out through the Service and vagina with some blood (EW!) until a new baby comes down the straw the next month; this is called a Period, or, if you’re polite, “Aunt Flo’s visit, *wink*!” Periods happen until a woman hits menopause, which is when her baby dispensary ovaries are out of babies, and the woman becomes a useless shell and must leave public life and hide her unsightly, wrinkled body from the light of day and the eyes of men and fertile women.

How to care for it: Ladies: except for this blog post, it’s best to not think at all about caring your uterus, because thinking is hard and we’d rather you just go make some babies, thanks! If you’re a man, you’re the one who should be doing the thinking about uteruses for women, because, you know, reasons, but not TOO much thinking, because it’s gross.

So, gentlemen, here are the things you should know about caring for uteruses in some detail but no too much detail because EWWWWWW (Ladies, go bake something or scrub a dish, okay?):

-Women may complain of cramps when they get their periods (that’s the thing where the baby is flushed out through the Service, remember?), but they are lying and it’s all in their heads. Make sure you dismiss any complaints of discomfort, excessive bleeding or pain, dizziness, depression or other symptoms with verbal disparagement, or, if you’re pressed for time, an elegant eyeroll. How else are you going to get us to stop whining about made-up shit? Of course, even though we women are making up these symptoms, we are always bitchy and emotional on our periods, so you should make sure you take that into account when deciding whether or not we get that new corner office or pay raise!

-Uteruses are magic–they always work perfectly, especially during pregnancy, so women definitely don’t need accessible, affordable healthcare to stay healthy before, during, or after gestation, and any time off from work is just laughable! You may hear some rumors that uteruses sometimes “miscarry,” which is a fancy term for murdering the Unborn(TM) because the uterus-haver (aka “mother”) offended her god or didn’t cover her mouth when she coughed or looked at a fish or something. This does happen, and when it does you should make sure to shame the uterus-haver for not having seen this coming or made better choices or prayed harder! Uteruses also never allow babies of rape to be conceived, so don’t worry–if your teenage daughter comes to you sobbing saying her teacher forced himself on her and now she’s pregnant, you know that she was ACTUALLY asking for it, because if it was REALLY rape her body would have shut that whole thing down.

-Women cannot make decisions about their own uteruses, guys. We just can’t be trusted to figure this stuff out, so please, make sure you pass laws at every opportunity limiting our access to services that could help us make decisions about our uteruses, from pregnancy to birth control options, while also cutting benefits for families and children who are disadvantaged. Really, it’s all you can do to prevent us from running amok and just uterus-ing all over the place with our period blood (EW!) and independent thoughts! Thanks 🙂

What it all means: Okay, ladies, you can come back out of the kitchen and join us again! Here’s the crux of it–a uterus is the most important thing a woman can have, with the possible exception of BOOBS (TEEHEE!). The uterus is the core of a woman’s being, and if you don’t use it to procreate, well, you best not be having any sort of sex (TEEHEE!) because sex is only so that the sperm can come through the Service and give souls to the Unborn(TM). If you are having sex (TEEHEE!) and not getting pregnant, you’re basically a murderer.  If you are a lesbian, well, that’s just a phase, and you’re a murderer by omission. If you are celibate, well, why are you such a frigid bitch?, and also you’re a murderer. If you want to get pregnant and can’t because of medical issues, well, what did you do in a past life to deserve this, and why are you such a poor excuse for a woman? Stop whining and wasting so much money on IVF! Why don’t you just adopt!? Oh, and also, you’re a murderer.

Next steps: Now that you’ve learned everything there is to know about uteri (yes, the above text contains all the information you’ll ever need to know), first things first: you’re welcome. Secondly, go use this info, guys and gals! If you’re a guy, make sure to spend all your time and energy legislating uteri for their own good, and if you’re a girl, well–is your baby coming down the straw yet? If so, time to get gestating!

Love,

Shameful uterus-haver who has not had a baby, this post is all a lie, WHY AM I EVEN ALIVE,

Jackie

 

Please leave your comments below, unless you are a GOP legislator or the ghost of Antonin Scalia.  And if you have a spare five bucks, in all seriousness, Planned Parenthood is a wonderful organization.

 

 

The Hysterical Woman Experiment (A-Z Challenge)

Dear LadyWomen Friends of the Moon Cycle,

It’s 2016, and I, like all women in the US, know that sexism and misogyny are over, thanks to the generations of women (AND MEN, DON’T FORGET THE MEN!) who sacrificed so much to ensure that we are treated equally at school, home, work, and da club. It’s just wonderful to live in such an enlightened age.

Sometimes, though, I wonder–what would it have been like to live in a time when women still suffered from actual discrimination? For instance, did you know that many women in the 19th century were often diagnosed with “female hysteria” in order to prevent them from fully participating in modern life outside the home? Just try to imagine what it would have been like for someone to, say, doubt your qualifications or competency for a job just because you’re a woman! I know it sounds like an impossibility, but it used to happen all the time.

If, like me, you’re interested in taking a walk in the shoes of our ancestors, I have good news for you: even today, certain sexist reactions can be elicited from others if we carefully and intentionally provoke them by engaging in certain outrageous, hysterical female behaviors, listed below. Try them out, and at the end of this experiment you’ll be able to say that you, like generations of women before you, have been called a “hysterical woman.”

Behavior #1: Ask for a raise at work. I know, I know, you would never do this, but it’s worth it for the result. Once your manager explains that you don’t yet deserve a raise despite working twelve hour shifts six days a week for three years, make sure to press the issue, explaining your commitment to the job and the fact that your colleague James makes 30% more than you do in the same position, and he’s only been here for eight months. This should definitely trigger the desired reaction! Your manager will begin by telling you “not to get so upset,” and will express disappointment that you’re not the “hard-working team player” he thought you were. You will then be fired, and that’s when your manager will exhort you to “not get hysterical” as you sob while packing your family photos in a cardboard box with security hovering nearby.

Behavior #2: Discuss your field of study, area of expertise, or job with a man. This one is tricky, because you have to engage with the man and push back to tease out the correct response. Here’s an example conversation–hopefully you’ll be able to figure out exactly when the woman’s behavior becomes hysterical enough to warrant reproach.

Joe: Hi, nice to meet you. I’m Joe, I’m an accountant!

Laura: I’m Laura, I’m a–

Joe: Accounting is really fascinating; I do tax accounting. Do you need your taxes done? I could show you how!

Laura: –physician.

Joe: Oh, a doctor, huh? Let me guess, you’re one of those “ladyparts” doctors, right? 

Laura: Actually, I specialize in nephrology, which is–

Joe: Oh, yeah, I know  all about that. My uncle is a doctor. He told me I would have made a great doctor. So you check for skin cancer and stuff, right?

Laura: No, that’s a derm–

Joe: See, if I were going to be a doctor, I’d go for something really hardcore, like kidney transplants or something. Or–

Laura (annoyed): I do specialize in kidney transplants! A Nephrologist is a kidney specialist!

Joe (throws up hands, backs away, defensive): WOAH WOAH WOAH! NO NEED TO GET HYSTERICAL, HONEY!

Behavior #3: Express a genuine emotion. This one is great because it applies anywhere–at work, school, and even in relationships! For instance, when your partner stays out until 2 a.m. drinking without answering his phone or telling you where he is and you think he’s dead, tell him with tears in your eyes how worried you were, and you’ll be a “hysterical bitch” within minutes! If you’re walking down the street to yoga class, show genuine anger when a man tells you he’d like to lick whipped cream off your tits, and you’ll be “a hysterical crazy whore” instantly! And at work, if you intimate any irritation that James from marketing stole your new sales pitch, he’ll immediately tell your boss how “oversensitive” and “pushy” you are, which easily leads to being “hysterical.” Try expressing emotions all over the place and make note of the results in between your horrified sobs.

Behavior #4: Seek medical treatment, especially if you are poor, fat, disabled, or a woman of color. This one works best if your patience has already been pushed to its absolute limit by having your symptoms dismissed by multiple practitioners over a period of several months. If you’re already at your wits’ end, you’ll probably  cry when the LATEST doctor dismisses your PMDD and chronic migraines while telling you that you’d probably feel better if you just lost ten pounds–and as you know by this point in the experiment, crying always brings on the “H” word.

Behavior #5: Say things on the internet. There are SO many ways to try this behavior–Facebook, Twitter, even WordPress blogs. Just set up your account, and then type a status message or post, and watch the accusations of hysteria crowd your mentions! If you’re short on time and want to accelerate the process, make sure to comment on one of these topics right off the bat: politics, video games, dating, rape, abortion, food, women’s rights, lgbt rights, discrimination, body positivity, black lives matter, racism, Obama, Jezebel.com, comic books, comic book adaptations, geek culture, trees, clouds, birds, bees, soup, band aids, transgender people peeing. 

And, finally…

Behavior #6: Complain that someone called you hysterical.  This behavior is best saved until the end of your experiment as a kind of “hysterical-squared” out-of-body rage-inducing experiment. Tell anyone–your mom, your best friend, your coworker, your dog–about being called “hysterical” in any of the situations above, and prepare for the cherry on top of the sexist flashback sundae: “Well, are you sure you weren’t acting just a little hysterical?”

I hope you enjoy the experiment! Just don’t try to write a paper on it, okay? This topic will most likely be denounced as a frivolous exercise and waste of resources, and you don’t want your peers to think you’re being hysterical.

-Jackie

 

I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments, but please, don’t get hysterical.

 

 

The Single Millennial’s 15-Step Guide to Surviving the Holidays

THAT’S RIGHT, KIDDOS! It’s the most wonderful time of the year – if you’re rich, have excellent will power when it comes to eating and drinking, and are happily coupled.  Otherwise, as I well know, it can be a tough time, so to help you deal I present to you the Single Millennial’s 15-Step Guide to Surviving the Holidays! READ WITH CARE.

Step 1: Put up all your holiday decorations, including your organically farmed hypoallergenic spruce fir, energy efficient LED lights, and flameless menorah, all while enjoying the holiday stylings of Michael Bublé on Google Play! Check your calendar for the month to make sure you have all of your holiday parties and events scheduled. Make a detailed diet plan for those days when you’re not attending a holiday event to make sure you stay healthy and energized – and avoid putting on those extra holiday pounds! Pledge only to have 1-2 drinks per holiday event so as to remain hangover-free throughout the season!

Step 2: Mug of soy cocoa in hand, sit down to make your holiday gift list, including all your dear friends, coworkers, and family members. Smile as you plan fun surprises for the people you love the most in your life and imagine their faces lighting up with joy when they open your beautifully wrapped, thoughtful presents! And wow, that Michael Bublé can SING, am I right?!

Step 3: Though you have already planned out all your holiday events and shopping, you receive a last-minute invite to drinks with some friends the night before the company Christmas party. You decide to go, but you’ll just have one glass of wine – that won’t mess up your schedule!

Step 4: Wake up the next morning with a massive hangover. You’re unsure how happy hour at the wine bar turned into karaoke at 3 am, but you know you have to rally for the company party that evening so you try to hold back the vomit. You promise yourself that you will not drink at the company party – last night was a fluke, and it won’t happen again.

Step 5: Ok, so you got completely wasted at the company holiday party and dirty danced with your boss while your coworkers took videos and posted them to Instagram – so what? Everyone else was smashed, to0! Besides, the rest of your holiday events this season are with family and close friends, so you won’t be drinking a lot. What’s one night of letting loose? Also, thank the lord that they didn’t play any Michael Bublé.

Step 6: Still hungover from the company party the night before and in your pajamas, you go on Facebook at 2 pm and see a twelve-paragraph rant from your Great Uncle Ronnie about how Fox News says there’s a war on Christmas going on, led by Muslim-In-Chief NOBAMA, Planned Parenthood, and Feminazis.  Feel your stomach heave with too many mocha martinis as you thank your lucky stars you haven’t seen Great Uncle Ronnie in seven years and will likely never have to talk to him in person again.

Step 7: Around 4 pm, you receive a call from your mother informing you that Great Uncle Ronnie will be attending Christmas dinner this year and you will need to purchase a present for him. Take a long shower and cry from the DTs and then go to the bodega. Buy and immediately consume a Family Size bag of Ruffles Cheddar and Sour Cream chips. Go to bed at 7 pm full of self-loathing.

Step 8: You wake up early feeling much better the next day, so you decide to go online to attack your Christmas shopping. Let’s see…maybe a sweater for Lucy, and Eric might like that new book by Ta-Nehisi Coates…

Step 9: …Jesus Christ, when did sweaters and books get so damned expensive? You haven’t seen Eric since Halloween, so he probably won’t get you anything, either, and he can just buy that book on Kindle Unlimited if he wants it, anyways. And Lucy, well, that girl comes from money and her boyfriend’s always buying her expensive shit, so there’s nothing you could get her that she doesn’t already have. You’ll just get cards for everyone at Walgreens, that will be fine, right? You don’t need to spend money to show your love for your friends!

Step 10: Oh, shit, you have to buy something for Uncle Ronnie. According to his Facebook page, all he really wants for Christmas is an AR-15. You briefly consider buying him a copy of Bad Feminist by Roxane Gay but decide you do, in fact, want to survive until 2016. You order him the latest Michael Bublé Christmas CD instead. Take that, asshole.

Step 11: Attend your annual friend group holiday gathering. Every other fucking person there has brought gifts for you, and all you have for them are these damned Walgreens cards. Also ERIC GOT YOU A SEVENTY-FIVE DOLLAR GIFT CERTIFICATE TO TARGET ARE YOU KIDDING ME? You slink to the corner, ashamed, and drink the equivalent of two bottles of wine by yourself as you realize that not only is everyone else more generous than you are, they are all also in long term relationships and you are the only single person at the party. Are you the only single person BECAUSE you’re not generous? Is that why? Also, why is the host playing Michael Bublé music? Why are you alone? WHYYYYY AM I-

Step 12: Wake up feeling awful. Realize that after you blacked out the night before, Eric and Lucy had to pour you into an Uber during surge pricing and drag you up three flights of stairs to your apartment to put you to bed. Oops. If nothing else, you now owe them each a major apology gift. Get on the scale and decide that since you’re already fucked, weight-wise, you might as well go all-in. You order an entire large pizza and eat it alone while watching While You Were Sleeping on TV with commercials, even though you have the DVD on your shelf (you’re just too lazy get it and put it in). Fall asleep at 2 am with your head on the pizza box after watching your thirtieth commercial for the upcoming Michael Bublé Christmas special.

Step 13: Travel home for the holidays. Somehow, end up in the middle seat  on your six hour flight. Because of “high winds” your plane needs to land in Vegas for 30 minutes to refuel. Thirty minutes becomes ninety and you order three of those little bottles of wine to keep yourself sane as the two giant men on either side of you jab their elbows into your ribs and fart copiously.

Step 14: Arrive home and watch your parents bite their tongues to avoid commenting on your disheveled and bloated appearance. Go to your childhood bedroom and pass out for ten hours because, damn it, you’ve earned it, and you need to steel yourself for Christmas dinner with Uncle Ronnie, who’s told your mother via text several times that he’s really concerned that you haven’t found a man to take care of you yet and that it’s all Feminism’s fault.

Step 15: On Christmas morning, your mother lets you know that Uncle Ronnie is at home with gout and will not be attending Christmas dinner after all! Beam as you sit down with your family for the meal, and tear up as you realize that, hey, maybe there is a God, after all! Huzzah! Joy to the World, bitches!

Finally, after dinner, your mom tells you she’d like the whole family to join her in the family room to watch the Michael Bublé special, which she recorded on DVR.

WHHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYASYD;LAJS;GAKS?

In the name of Bublé, I wish you a happy holiday season.

 

 

Visualizing Utopia

I took an involuntary blogging hiatus over Thanksgiving due to the DeathColdwhich laid me out flat for a good eight days; I’m still hacking up phlegm on an hourly basis (you’re welcome for the mental image).

As a return to blogging post-DeathCold, I was going to do a beauty post with my recommendations from my latest Allure Beauty Box, but I couldn’t because my mind is still spinning from the latest high-profile incidence of domestic terrorism that took place on Black Friday at a Planned Parenthood in Colorado Springs as well as the revelations regarding Laquan McDonald’s murder at the hands of police last year, among, as usual, other horrific things.  Hell, as I’m typing this, my Twitter feed is telling me that there is a mass shooting incident ONGOING in San Bernardino with as many as 20 injuries possibly reported (Update as I finish this article: 12 dead possibly. My God.)

I’m so, so, so tired of this. Exhausted, in fact. Aren’t we all?

I’m so tired of the culture of violence, especially against women, children, people of color, and the poor. Tired of the racism and Islamophobia. Tired of the unwillingness of so many people to see that things need to change, from rape culture to reasonable, commonsense restrictions on gun ownership and use (BTW, if you want to post a comment here on how gun violence is solely a mental illness issue vs. gun availability, please just don’t. As a mentally ill person myself, you’re not gonna convince me and I’m sure I won’t convince you. Feel free to ignore this post and go find someone else to talk to about it; the internet should have plenty of safe spaces for that. Thanks in advance.).

I feel like I do what I can, you know? A lot of you feel that way, too, I bet. We donate money to causes we believe in, support and vote for candidates to public office who we hope will be able effect positive change. And yet, it still feels like nothing gets better. Part of this, I know, is due to the fact that we have access to news of horrible events 24/7 thanks to social media. Awful things have always happened, but now we hear of them more often, with video and audio recordings of the carnage as it happens to bring the horror even closer to home.

So what do we do? What do I do, not just to make the world a better place, but to keep myself sane? Other than continue to donate money and vote and speak out where I can, I’ve had to rely more and more these days on a super-lame-sounding but effective technique to keep myself going: visualization.

About a month ago, I read the fantastic book The Feminist Utopia Project, which is a collection of about sixty stories, cartoons, interviews, fake news articles, etc. imagining a better future, courtesy of dozens of feminist thinkers in many fields. I highly recommend it, even if you’re not that big into feminism. Reading this book gave me a new tool to deal with the horror of the everyday world: visualizing utopia.

When things get awful, like they are getting right now in San Bernardino as well as in thousands of places around the world, I try to take a breath and imagine that fifty or one hundred or two hundred years from now, those who come after me (or maybe even me, if I’m lucky) will see a world that is measurably better than this one. One where the term “mass shooting” is only discussed in history class, the way we discuss the Spanish Inquisition today. A world where we take care of our planet instead of treating it like a disposable coffee cup. A world where no one’s life is better or worse than anyone else’s simply because of their gender identity, skin color, religion, sexual orientation, or where they live in on the map. A world where religion, if it exists at all, is ONLY a source of peace and inner strength for believers and a cause for generosity and love rather than an excuse for hatred. A world without violence. A world where gun control is a non-issue because no one feels like they would ever even need a gun to protect themselves. A world where a woman can go for a run in the park at 3 am with no worry for her safety. A world where no one is homeless. A world where no one is hungry. A world where fewer people are sick, and those who are receive free, top-quality care from medical personnel who are caring and well-treated themselves. A world where there are no borders, and people pass freely from one place to another, sure of hospitality and interest and love wherever they go. A world where I spend every day cuddling with doggies.*  In a word, utopia.

Today especially, we are really, really far off from that world. As it seems to do every couple of days, my heart is breaking for a new group of victims of violence as I type this. I don’t want to become desensitized to it, but I want to believe that things can be better. I want to believe in my utopia. I choose to believe in it today, and I actively wish for it. If the holiday season brings anything good with it, any sort of power, let it be the power to bring humanity closer to this utopia, or any version of it. I’m visualizing, hard. I hope you can take a moment today to visualize it, too. If enough of us do, it can only soothe our souls and bring us closer to making it a reality.

Peace. And I promise, back to beauty posts and funnier shit later this week.

*Ok, this one is a little selfish, but, come on, what is Utopia without doggies?

wp-1449088113483.jpg
Roxie would definitely be part of Utopia.

 

 

 

OKCupid: Adventures in Profile Surfing (feminism edition)

Ok, so part of the fun of online dating (when there is fun) is browsing profiles.  Sometimes you read really interesting and funny things that make you message the person.  Sometimes you read profiles that are so ridiculous you have to share them with friends just to laugh over them (years ago I read one that was just entirely made up of maudlin poetry about the darkness of the person’s soul.  To each their own, I guess, but not quite my thing).

And sometimes you read a profile that’s perfect except for that one red flag that makes you go, “Oh, wait just a minute – there’s something wrong here.”  You know what I’m talking about.  They seem funny and cool, but they have something like, “Don’t message me if you’re not looking for a nice guy because I’M A NICE GUY AND NO WOMEN SEEM TO GET THIS!”  Or, “I’m really into music but if you own a Demi Lovato album DO NOT MESSAGE ME!”  The first example is pretty common on OKC and usually means the person is the Opposite Of A Nice Guy.  The second is just weirdly specific and makes me think this person does not have an appreciation of the finer things in life, OF WHICH DEMI LOVATO’S MUSIC IS DEFINITELY ONE.

Lately, though, I’ve noticed a more disturbing trend in profiles – the “I’m into feminists…but,” caveat.

I was browsing last night and saw it three separate times, all in profiles that seemed otherwise very appealing.  One guy said: “Message me if you know the difference between a feminist and a misandrist.”  Another guy said: “Message me if you’re a feminist who doesn’t want to try convincing her date why misogyny is bad.”  Another guy said: “Message me if you’re a feminist but chill.”

Anyone else see this as a little off-putting?  Is it just me?

On the one hand, if your first date is ONLY someone lecturing you nonstop without taking a breath about how feminism is good and misogyny is bad (which would go without saying, but whatever), that would be annoying.  Spending an entire date lecturing the other person nonstop about ANYTHING is obnoxious (I know; I’ve been on the receiving end of that a few times).  But when I see guys saying they want to date feminists but they want those feminists to be, specifically, “chill,” it seems to me like what they’re really saying is, “I’m superficially down with the equality stuff but I don’t really want to hear about it.  I don’t want you to get mad or discuss it in our relationship because it might make me feel bad.”  And to me, that means you don’t really want a self-identified feminist.

Like, can you imagine these profiles saying, “I want someone who supports #BlackLivesMatter but don’t want them to spend the date discussing institutionalized racism”?  Like, what’s the point of being a self-identified feminist or LGBT ally or #BlackLivesMatter supporter if you never talk about it?

Obviously, I’m a feminist.  And I talk about it.  I can get impassioned, even angry about the state of things.  I get impassioned and angry, however, about MANY issues, including but not limited to: institutionalized racism, general and LGBT-focused bigots (Kim Davis, looking at you), income inequality, police brutality, and gross vegan protein substitutes.  But in years of profile surfing I’ve never seen otherwise self-identified “liberal” guys say they don’t want to hear about these topics – it always seems to be feminism that gets the bad rap, and that’s a turn-off for me.

Now, I know there are tons of guys out there who want to date women who are outspoken and passionate about many issues, and I’m (moderately?) sure that eventually I’ll find and end up in a LTR with one of those guys.  But for now, if your profile contains the caveat, “I want to date a feminist…but,” I’m pretty sure I’m out 🙂

P.S. I am sort of half-expecting to get a lot of angry replies to this on FB and stuff.  I hope I don’t, because I’m not angry at these guys for saying this in their profiles – I just find it off-putting on a personal level and, sadly, indicative of the stigma that is still attached to the word “feminism.”  I JUST WANT SOMEONE TO WATCH STAR TREK WITH ME AND CUDDLE IS THAT SO HARD? Lol.