Skip to main content

Can Feminism be too inclusive?

A couple of things about this article: 
1) The professional class needs to stop talking about the snob cashier / barista who looked down at their purchase... who made them feel momentarily small. Not to worry, good woman! You can retaliate in knowing that that will be only moment that that person won't serve as a human dwarf compared to your accomplishments! 
Also, you can't have a world where people can get away being weird, be the kind of feminists Jessa Crispin (referenced in this article -- shit! she's getting press!) would like to see more of... the hairy-armpit, scary Andrea Dworkins, rather than the glam Gloria Steinems, unless you go back several decades when such were respectable in the feminist movement. These days, anyone like that is only going to be a barista, or stocking shelves. Leave room for the possibility that the person serving you isn't some borderline afraid of accomplishing more with their lives; that person might be the Andrea Dworkin of our time, easily forced into giving you a smile next time if you would have preferred to have complained rather than smuggled your minor humiliation out the door with you.
2) The further along into a period of growth you go, the worse the growth will appear to the sane. Growth makes people nervous. The hugely long legacy of the idea of original sin, that people are born to suffer not to self-actualize, owes to the fact that most people in history were born to unloved parents who needed their children far more than they loved them, and abandoned them emotionally when they began to individuate... when they began to leave them, grow up. These kids can't cope with that kind of apocalyptic loss and form within themselves a psychic overlord, a super-ego, a persecutory mental altar, that rages at them when they start "spoiling" themselves. We've been living in an ongoing period of growth that began right after World War Two. It was superb near the beginning -- during the 60s and 70s -- but is at a very ambiguous stage right now, and can easily be made to look preposterous. This article tries to keep faith with it, nonetheless, and deserves credit for doing so. The phase up ahead... is about the kind of horrible regression, punishment and sacrifice of talent and youth that enables a subsequent generation to feel justified in reaching for the skies again, claiming a Golden Age for themselves; it isn't about reaching those heights itself. 
Who thinks Ivanka Trump is a feminist? Seriously, who? As far as I can tell, the only people calling her a feminist are Ivanka herself and conservatives who use her to attack real feminists as a pack of radical banshees.


Popular posts from this blog

Old Youth

You write about how poverty breeds creativity. You think about how scavenging for wild food gives you the perfect opportunity to slow down, to really appreciate your surroundings. You talk about how frugality is more environmentally sustainable. You pontificate on why creating meals from scratch is cheaper, healthier and deeply satisfying. Then you run out of cooking oil.You love fat. As a child you ate margarine by the spoonful. You didn't know any better. Now you've moved on to more delicious pastures. As a cook you can never resist sneaking in that extra bit of butter, that tablespoonful of olive oil, that dab of bacon grease. You believe that cake is a vessel for frosting, that salad dressing should be two parts oil to one part vinegar, and that packaged low-fat foods are a symptom of the decline of Western civilization. Fat makes food taste good.Under the best of circumstances, you have eight or nine varieties of fat on hand. In ascending order of importance: chicken drip…

Superimposing another "fourth-wall" Deadpool

I'd like to superimpose the fourth-wall breaking Deadpool that I'd like to have seen in the movie. In my version, he'd break out of the action at some point to discuss with us the following:
1) He'd point out that all the trouble the movie goes to to ensure that the lead actress is never seen completely naked—no nipples shown—in this R-rated movie was done so that later when we suddenly see enough strippers' completely bared breasts that we feel that someone was making up for lost time, we feel that a special, strenuous effort has been made to keep her from a certain fate—one the R-rating would even seemed to have called for, necessitated, even, to properly feed the audience expecting something extra for the movie being more dependent on their ticket purchases. That is, protecting the lead actress was done to legitimize thinking of those left casually unprotected as different kinds of women—not as worthy, not as human.   

2) When Wade/Deadpool and Vanessa are excha…

True Detective cont'd

Recently, Rachel Syme wrote this
As the dust settles on the “True Detective” finale, and the adventures of Rust Cohle and Marty Hart fade into the television firmament like the distant stars they found so meaningful, at least one thing is clear: it didn’t quite end the way we wanted it to. There is no doubt that the writer, Nic Pizzolatto, and director, Cary Fukunaga, pulled off a midseason coup, giving us a show in the January doldrums that caused temporary mass insanity. Like one of Rust’s intoxicating philosophical koans about sentient meat, “True Detective” cast a kind of spell over its viewers, convincing them that no matter what it was they were watching it was at the very least something worth the hours of debating, clicking, parsing, and comment-section feuding. Moreover, the gorgeous cinematography depicting Louisiana in the gloaming, the delectable short-anthology format, and the movie-star bona fides made us believe that we were watching something novelistic, even approachi…