Feminism from the eyes of a privileged woman
Read: Privileged millennial woman.
Let me just clear something right off the bat — I don’t hate men. I love men. I think men are the bomb dot com — just, you know, not all men.
I think the bigger issue with most people (not men — people) is that they think that equal rights for others mean fewer rights for themselves. It’s not cake. It’s human rights. Women, unfortunately, have had to suffer the consequences of inequality for eons, which has made them angry — which in turn has made them think that men are the enemy. From differences in pay grade, to lifting heavy objects, to traveling alone at night, the list is endless.
Many decades ago, the feminist movement had one “leader” who would speak for all women — today we call them feminazis. A privileged woman, no matter how hard she tries, will never be able to understand what goes on in the minds and lives of underprivileged women. A white woman can’t speak for a black woman. A straight woman can’t speak for an LGBTQIA+ woman. A man can’t speak for a woman. All we can do is be allies. Cool? Cool.
We’ve covered the topic of men, women, feminists, and feminazis. It’s time to get into my favourite part of this blog — the marshmallows. Nope, not the ones we burn and eat, although they do get burned quite easily. Marshmallows are the holy grail of the feminist movement. These are the people who are aggressive allies, the ones who have way too much to prove because they have an underpaid female best friend. The ones who can’t take a joke. The ones who think EVERYTHING is an attack on the entire female population. The ones who can turn every genuine male feminist into a sexist piece of sh*t. Don’t get me wrong — I (sometimes) really love them. I (sometimes) am them. We probably wouldn’t have made the amount of progress we’ve made without some bone-breaking. It is what it is.
Toodles.
