The Dreadful Wages of Feminism

Just an amazing piece in the New York Times last weekend and really one of the saddest I think I’ve ever read. In an article headlined “What Makes a Woman?” feminist journalist and documentarian Elinor Burkett objects to trans-sexuals like Caitlyn Jenner calling themselves women.

They haven’t traveled through the world as women and been shaped by all that this entails. They haven’t suffered through business meetings with men talking to their breasts or woken up after sex terrified they’d forgotten to take their birth control pills the day before. They haven’t had to cope with the onset of their periods in the middle of a crowded subway, the humiliation of discovering that their male work partners’ checks were far larger than theirs, or the fear of being too weak to ward off rapists.

Look at that list: suffering; terror; blood; humiliation; fear. That’s her experience of womanhood? No heights of joy? No depths of love? No miracles of creation or nurturing? No sense of life a man can never know? No wonder she’s a feminist. She seems to have missed the experience of being an actual woman.

She argues — against all science except feminist “science,” which is no science at all — that women’s and men’s brains aren’t different. Really? How fascinating that left-wingers elevate evolution to the godhead when arguing against Genesis, but when arguing for feminism, they make the whole logic of evolution disappear. What interest has evolution in womanhood beside child-bearing and mothering? None. And does she think this great natural machinery has passed over the 10-thousand generations of her gender without shaping them to its purposes? It’s ridiculous.

The whole article testifies to a life lived in self-deception and unhappiness. But that’s feminism in a nutshell, isn’t it? Why would anyone be a feminist when they could simply be an individual?

Oh, wait. There’s one reason. You get to talk filth in public. Witness comic actress Amy Schumer, who accepted Glamour magazine’s annual trailblazer award by announcing that, because she had lost weight, she can now “catch a d**k whenever I want.”

Now Schumer’s a comedienne. It’s part of her job to transgress a bit, so that’s fine: whatever. The feminist idiocy only arose when Mic.com’s senior editor Kate Hakala sang Schumer’s praises with this gem of insipidity:

Schumer is co-opting the language of objectification and giving herself sexual agency. In a culture where women still refrain from boldly talking about their sexuality in and out of the bedroom, and where women are hesitant to use typically male words…. Schumer’s frankness is not only hilarious — it’s empowering.

Co-opting the — presumably male — language of objectification. Oh, how ever-so-good for you! You’ve proved that a woman can be just as big a jerk as some men. Like Burkett, Hakala’s idea of what makes men men and women women is so puny and misguided, it makes you pity her. You want to co-opt something male, darling? Write Hamlet. Invent an airplane. Charge into a burning building and carry someone out on your back. Don’t talk like some boorish schmuck and call it power. It isn’t even power when he does it. It’s just weakness and insecurity masking itself as ill-mannered bravado.

The problem with feminists like this is they haven’t got the hearts to be women, and they haven’t got the brains to be men. All they can do is bitch, bitch, bitch. It’s downright depressing. God keep us from living in the feminist’s inner world.