Why Society Still Needs Feminism
Because to men, a key is a device to open something. For women, it’s a weapon we hold between our fingers when we’re walking alone at night.
Because the biggest insult for a guy is to be called a “pussy,” a “little bitch” or a “girl.” From here on out, being called a “pussy” is an effing badge of honor.
Because last month, my politics professor asked the class if women should have equal representation in the Supreme Court, and only three out of 42 people raised their hands.
Because rape jokes are still a thing.
Because despite being equally broke college kids, guys are still expected to pay for dates, drinks and flowers.
Because as a legit student group, Campus Fellowship does not allow women to lead anything involving men. Look, I know Eve was dumb about the whole apple and snake thing, but I think we can agree having a vagina does not directly impact your ability to lead a
college organization.
Because it’s assumed that if you are nice to a girl, she owes you sex — therefore, if she turns you down, she’s a bitch who’s put you in the “friend zone.” Sorry, bro, women are not machines you put kindness coins into until sex falls out.
Because only 29 percent of American women identify as feminist, and in the words of author Caitlin Moran, “What part of ‘liberation for women’ is not for you? Is it freedom to vote? The right not to be owned by the man you marry? The campaign for equal pay? Did all that good shit get on your nerves? Or were you just drunk at the time
of the survey?”
Because when people hear the term feminist, they honestly think of women burning bras. Dude, have you ever bought a bra? No one would burn them because they’re freaking
expensive.
Because Rush Limbaugh.
Because we now have a record number of women in the Senate … which is a measly 20 out of 100. Congrats, USA, we’ve gone up to 78th place for women’s political representation, still below China, Rwanda and Iraq.
Because recently I had a discussion with a couple of well-meaning Drake University guys, and they literally could not fathom how catcalling a woman walking down University Avenue is creepy and sexist.
Could. Not. Fathom.
Because on average, the tenured male professors at Drake make more than the tenured female professors.
Because more people on campus complain about chalked statistics regarding sexual assault than complain about the existence of sexual assault. Priorities? Have them.
Because 138 House Republicans voted against the Violence Against Women Act. All 138 felt it shouldn’t provide support for Native women, LGBT people or immigrant women. I’m kind of confused by this, because I thought LGBT people and women of color were also human beings.
Weird, right?
Because a girl was roofied last semester at a local campus bar, and I heard someone say they think she should have been more careful. Being drugged is her fault, not the fault of the person who put drugs in her drink?
Because Chris Brown beat Rihanna so badly she was hospitalized, yet he still has fans and bestselling songs and a tattoo of an abused woman on his neck.
Because out of 7 billion people on the planet, more than 1 billion women will be raped or beaten in their lifetimes. Women and girls have their clitorises cut out, acid thrown on them and broken bottles shoved up them as an act of war. Every second of every day. Every corner of the Earth.
Because the other day, another friend of mine told me she was raped, and I can no longer count on both my hands the number of friends who have told me they’ve been sexually assaulted. Words can’t express how scared I am that I’m getting used to this.
Because a brief survey of reality will tell you that we do not live in a world that values all people equally and that sucks in real, very scary ways. Because you know we live in a sexist world when an awesome thing with the name “feminism” has a weird connotation. Because if I have kids someday, I want my son to be able to have emotions and play dress up, and I want my daughter to climb trees and care more about what’s in her head than what’s on it. Because I don’t want her to carry keys between her fingers at night to
protect herself.
Because feminism is for everybody, and this is your official invitation.
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Frank Ocean, “Bad Romance (Lady Gaga Cover)”.
You can learn a lot about someone from their punctuation. A lack of periods announces a poorly organized mind. A properly employed semicolon or dash suggests a subtle dignity. But nothing exudes tackiness like the exclamation point.
The exclamation point is the dullard’s last gasping plea for attention – a 141st character admission that the sentence itself conveys no information worth the fare. It has all the eloquence of a piñata.
Unfortunately, the exclamation point is spreading like venereal disease in a retirement home. It doesn’t even require a fresh host sentence to reproduce. Often I see a whole colony of them huddled together at the end of some meaningless phrase. After all, how does one compete with someone whose having a “great time!” if not by having a “great time!!!”? It’s only a matter of time before exclamation points start appearing in the middle of sentences or even as entire paragraphs unto themselves.
The proliferation of the exclamation point is a symptom of our broader social malady: packaging suffocating product. Grocery stores stock aisle after aisle of empty calories wrapped in slogan-stamped plastic. Universities that used to offer an education now peddle diplomas and spring fling concerts.
Style in clothing suffers from a similar incontinence. Bright colors and baubles are the exclamation points of menswear. In the best of all worlds, they might be used sparingly to indicate intent or mood. But they are cheapened through overuse. Today, after another bumper crop, their price is at an all-time low. We have gone from “I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled” to “Look at my striped shirt!”
The next time you end a sentence with an exclamation point, imagine a period in its place. If your sentence withers, no quantity of exclamation points can save it. The same is true for “statements” in clothing. What if you didn’t wear your skull-and-crossbones tie clip? Does the whole thing look wrong? Then start over. Use punctuation to organize the substance of what you are trying to say, rather than to camouflage the fact that you really have nothing to say at all.