Feminism and “Those !$#% Feminists!”, part II
I remember, as a teen, falling for Alan Alda. I was watching a TV interview where he was asked, “Why are you a feminist?” (I think by Barbara Walters – a great woman’s role model in her own right – but it was so many years ago I can’t recall.) His answer was, “The question should be, why aren’t we all.” He was quite clear on the point that it only meant presuming women to be of equal intelligence and wishing for equality of opportunity and protection. And he’s right; here’s what Webster says about the definition:
“ the theory of the political, economic, and social equality of the sexes”
Of course there have been less reasonable advocates than Alan. Like at least one insanely radical group called The Feminists. Although I can’t imagine giving up men, much less as if they were some toxic addiction, I can muster up some sympathy for the basis of these women’s convictions. I suspect they were each more grievously wronged by men than most of us, leaving radical rage as the only acceptable path left. Maybe a bit like the Black Panthers and Malcolm X; at some point, when the injustice runs too long and too deep, the rage has to boil over. It’s understandable. But darn it, those broads, chicks, girls, radical “feminists” – they did ruin an otherwise excellent word.
The few times I’ve read about their “male conspiracy theory” I’ve wanted to point out that by the way, we women would never had won the vote back (we certainly had lots of voting power in Gatherer-Hunter societies) if half the American men hadn’t agreed to it. So you know, it’s not like they’re ALL bad.
At the same time, too many men have benefitted for too long from women’s virtual enslavement (globally) to make it change very fast. I’d like to think I’d be more kind if I were in their place – this mass of men – but honestly it would be nice to have someone always put me first, cook for me, keep things picked up and raise my kids. Especially if all I had to do was work from nine to five.
I might even get a little lazy, and allow it to continue. I might even tell my daughters to hold onto it as long as possible (“keep your husband in his place, honey”) before it slipped away. I might tell my sons that serving women was the key to their happiness too, and remind them that God is after all a woman. I really hate to think I’d be that awful of a parent, but I’m just saying: it’s possible.
But I digress. And now I’ve run out of time – if I don’t start the laundry soon the kids will have nothing to wear tomorrow. Back to finish this thought another time.
best,
cj