Oof, your pal Miss Plumcake has been under the weather in a big way, and the novelty of being sick as an entire kennel worth of big dogs has seriously worn off.
My fascination with your Eureka responses, however, hasn’t.
I find it interesting some people –and I don’t mean anyone specifically, it’s just a general observation– who are by thought and deed feminists are still hesitant to saddle themselves with the label.
I can’t really judge them though, I was the same way…when I was twelve.
Whenever I brought up a bit of social injustice, my beloved, brilliant, Harvard-educated grandfather who truly did want me to be a huge success and thought I could do anything in the world, would sneeringly ask “Oh, are you a feminist now?”
The implication being that feminism was the same as man-hating. I didn’t hate men so I’d say “Of course not Dada!”
To many men of my grandfather’s generation, “feminist” became ill-informed shorthand for the type of woman who wanted a world where it was acceptable to treat men the way men were used to treating women. A horrifying thought, and as is so often the case, fear turned into disdain.
Feminism became a dirty word.
I’d like to think as a society we’re past the idea of feminists as braless bogeywomen coming to steal hardworking men’s titles and testicles. We just want equal treatment with our brothers, and the right to make decisions about our own bodies.
What’s so scary about that?
Also, and this is one of those things I care about that apparently no one else on the planet does, women who fought for the vote weren’t suffragettes: They were suffragists.
The word suffragette was originally used as an insult.
The newspapers –a boys club to this day– removed the gender-neutral -ist suffix and replaced it with the cutesy, diminutive, feminine-thus-powerless -ette to be dismissive of those “hysterical” women with all those silly ideas floating around in their tiny female brains who probably just needed a rest cure, ideally in a room with yellow wallpaper.
I know many of us learned the word either through Disney’s Mary Poppins and the sweet but daffy Mrs. Banks
…or through David Bowie’s 1972 scorcher, Suffragette City.
Both great songs, but let’s just agree they are not the most thoughtful exegeses of the suffrage movement.
Well, that’s all I’ve got for today. Next week it’ll be back to fun, frills and fatness, but feel free to keep commenting on these posts. I love the discussion.
(Wham! Bam! Thank you, Ma’am!)