I know I’ve been writing about some weird shit lately, but I was shocked, after reading one Stumbleupon reviewer’s assessment of my War on Terr’r Part 1 post, to find out that my ostensibly feminist blog has, in fact, nothing to do with feminism. He even added the tag not-feminism to the page! Check out Playermatt‘s review (Playermatt, ha!):
I dispute that this has anything to do with feminism. This is just a victimized woman wallowing in her self-pity and victimhood, posting (to her blog, of course) a list of things that she will never do, in real life.
Next time this happens to her, she’s just going to write another angry blog post. And, probably, all her friends will write, “Great post!” each time she does so.
This is more correctly categorized, in my opinion, under Women’s Issues or Self-Defense, should such a category exist.
I hate “Internet Feminism”. It always boils down to some angry woman writing a blog post about how she’s a victim. I sympathize; I really do. However, there’s no sociology. No examination of gender issues in our society. No grand plan on how to change our society for the better. No psychology or philosophy or any kind of -ology at all, really. Just some rant by an angry woman, that sounds basically like it would be right at home in a Alannis Morisette song.
I didn’t sign up for some generic person’s internet rants; I signed up to read actual feminist articles.
Where do I start? First off, I’m almost embarrassed to give this guy any attention, but I have to do it. I knew when I started this blog that a lot of people wouldn’t be able to grasp the fact that the title of the blog itself, a lot of my stylistic conventions (including pretending to be xtreme!, angry, and arrogant and making sweeping generalizations), and a lot of my statements were and are intended to be taken lightly. In case anyone needs to be told, I’ll lay this out now: I don’t listen to Rage Against the Machine. I think they’re one of the most ridiculous bands of all time, I think their fans are generally some of the dumbest people around, and I’m aghast at the number of people that are now running around wearing Che Guevara t-shirts and spouting ill-informed political slogans because they like some band that sounds like a cross between House of Pain and Helmet. When I told my best friend I was going to be starting a feminist blog and couldn’t think of a name, he suggested that I call it Rage Against the Man-chine. He did so because we have both been making fun of people for the last ten years who make asses of themselves by displaying their anger in an undignified fashion, usually by making reference to their “raging against” whatever it is they’re pissy about.
That means — and I know this is hard for people like Playermatt to process — that I don’t take myself all that seriously. I’m (usually) not that angry, I’m not wallowing in victimhood, I’m not wallowing in self-pity (I’m more likely to suffer from privilege guilt, if you must know), I’m not awake at night having fantasies about stomping on men’s faces with my Doc Martens (which, I’m sure Playermatt will be surprised to hear, I don’t even own). I’m just here ‘splaining my views on things to the world, analyzing the things I think seem unjust, and making feeble attempts at making my delivery entertaining. I guess I overestimated the general public’s ability to pick up what I’m laying down (although I knew feminists would all get it).
I don’t know when I’ll have the chance to try out any of the suggestions I wrote about in the post Playermatt is referring to, but I will most definitely be doing so at the first opportunity that presents itself. And I’ve poured many a Cape Cod on men who groped me or verbally harassed me, so there. But I don’t need to prove to this asshole that I have “balls.” I’m pretty sure that Playermatt is calling me a pussy, which doesn’t really surprise me. His claim that I won’t choose to defend myself against a sexual assault, and will instead run home crying and write a blog about it, sounds like some adolescent schoolyard taunt. The irony of a dude who thinks he’s an authority on feminism and gender analysis calling a feminist a faggot for not being manly enough to do anything but write a blog is killing me. And I suppose the irony inherent in writing a whiny review of a blog in which you call someone a pansy for writing a blog about things that irritate them is also lost on this idiot.
He’s decided for me that I ought to call this a Women’s Issues or a Self-Defense blog. Well, Playermatt, could you please, with your superior male intellect and your broad and deep understanding of gender issues, enlighten me as to what the fuck the difference between a blog labeled Feminism and a blog labeled Women’s Issues is? Are you saying that feminism blogs are to be taken seriously, whereas women’s issues and self-defense blogs are the realm of whiny little bitches? I’m sorry that the topics I, as a woman and a FEMINIST (which you, my friend, can never be, so pltthhhh), decide are pertinent to a discussion of feminism and women’s lives don’t meet your exacting standards, but I think that I do have some things to say about gender issues in our society, and that, despite the purported dearth on this blog of the -ologies that you seem to find so essential to quality discourse, I am contributing at least a few suggestions on how we might improve our social situation. Maybe you ought to go read some fun feminist’s site where the “feminists” all pretend your opinion matters and leave us angry women to our kvetching. Whatever you do, you can stay the fuck off my blog, and you can go fuck yourself for mentioning me and Alanis Morrisette in the same sentence.
Playermatt’s not alone. Check out what Jedencorell had to say about my Bratz post, which has nothing to do with women’s issues either, mind you:
Your cloying play on the name of a band constructed to “rage against” the machine it contributed to is enough to make me wish your ovaries were inoperable. But it doesn’t stop there!
You are inflating the importance of a has-been, blowhard cynic who is hardly relevant so you can complain about how his choice in women represents some kind of plastic doll sold at Wal*Mart. How is this applicable to women’s issues, of any sort? Because you say it is? Because you complain about it loud enough?
Just because a toy is marketed to a certain age range and/or gender doesn’t mean that we have to buy them. There are male action figures out there with ridiculously unattainable figures for men, but lo and behold, I rarely stumble on poorly written blog entries complaining about those…
Keep fighting against the threat of those big-eyed dolls, sister!
I don’t know whether this Jedencorell is a dude, but I don’t care (I’ll call her/him “it” for now, as in, “It puts the lotion in the basket or it gets the hose again”). It’s a fool. It, like many others, did not pick up on the fact that the title of the blog is a joke. It was unable to recognize that the topic of the post was not Bill Maher, who was mentioned only in the title, but rather Bratz dolls and their influence on young girls. (And it even fucking bolded that part, since, you know, it’s the most impressive element of the argument. I can just see it now, typing that bit, highlighting it, holding down the Control key, and then banging down the B key with a smug grin and a satisfied nod.) It does not see the connection between women’s issues and a line of dolls that every girl in America, and in many other countries, is playing with and looking up to. It can’t even differentiate between text and sound, claiming that my complaining about Bratz was “loud” (rather than caustic, severe, harsh, scathing, stringent, whatever). It can’t tell the difference between something that’s poorly written (like its own review, which is lacking in logic and substance, but long on improperly-used SAT words) and my own beauteous prose.
It also made the oft-written claim that, “hey, we don’t have to buy Bratz, it’s a free country, so you should feel free to shut the fuck up.” I love that argument: we’re all responsible for every element of our own lives, all of our decisions are made in a vacuum, we ought to be free to do whatever we want, but you ought not be free to voice your opinion (or else I’ll threaten to take away your ovaries, you bitch!). How fucking stupid.
The patronizing and insulting tone of these two posts wouldn’t bother me if it weren’t for the fact that the authors are clearly dimwits; I, being something of an advanced hater myself, can appreciate an intelligently acerbic commentator, but that just ain’t the case with these two. I’m going to be charitable and assume that they actually read the posts they reviewed before they reviewed them (though I have my doubts), which means that they are both too dumb to pick up even the most obvious connections between cultural phenomena and women’s issues, and that they can’t even pick up bits of sarcasm that are as obvious as a neck tattoo. Now, I love ignorant hubris for entertainment’s sake, but I have no time for unwarranted arrogance and condescension when it comes to something as important as feminism, and I have no use for men (or its) telling me what feminism is about.
I just have one last thing to say to Playermatt and Jedencorell: FACE!
Boy, do I feel juvenile.