Monday, May 20, 2013

I haven't got the time to be oppressed nor the patience necessary be a victim. Only the privileged have the luxury of analyzing the p-word and its consequences. The rest of the free world is working double-overtime, flying through McDonald's drive thru's and catching the 10o'clock news before bed. And really, that's not even fair of me to say. Though that was my experience growing up in a single-parent household, it's ignorant to make grand, sweeping conclusions or blanket statements. I was raised by self-diagnosed feminists. My mother's "About Me" section on facebook is the entirety of For Every Woman by Nancy R. Smith. My aunt's profile pictures feature witty quips like "Against abortions? Don't have one!" and "Your body is a battlefield." Their rants seemed convoluted while I was growing up. I was convinced they wanted to convert me into a "man-hating lesbian" with their witchy Lillith Fairs and hippie-dippy festivals and sassy fridge magnets. "GIRL POWER" was everywhere and I resented it. I love my family, I 'swear to goddess' as Auntie Sissy would say, which should be in the same vein as taking the Lord's name in vain, making it derogatory, no? It also seems strange that such an aggressive woman's rights advocate wouldn't protest or question the nickname I gave her when I started making words. Her sense of third-wave humor must be deeper than I first assumed.
If you've got a problem with the noise boise, then the noyz boyz must be destroyed. If you're going to take on a "me against the world" attitude, you're going to have a lot of fighting to do. I'm not suggesting you roll over on your back and submit to be shit on, but "that's fucked up" is just a motto and slogans aren't action.