"My response to the “I am not a feminist” internet phenomenon….
First of all, it’s clear you don’t know what feminism is. But I’m not going to explain it to you. You can google it. To quote an old friend, “I’m not the feminist babysitter.”
But here is what I think you should know.
You’re insulting every woman who was forcibly restrained in a jail cell with a feeding tube down her throat for your right to vote, less than 100 years ago.
You’re degrading every woman who has accessed a rape crisis center, which wouldn’t exist without the feminist movement.
You’re undermining every woman who fought to make marital rape a crime (it was legal until 1993).
You’re spitting on the legacy of every woman who fought for women to be allowed to own property (1848). For the abolition of slavery and the rise of the labor union. For the right to divorce. For women to be allowed to have access to birth control (Comstock laws). For middle and upper class women to be allowed to work outside the home (poor women have always worked outside the home). To make domestic violence a crime in the US (It is very much legal in many parts of the world). To make workplace sexual harassment a crime.
In short, you know not what you speak of. You reap the rewards of these women’s sacrifices every day of your life. When you grin with your cutsey sign about how you’re not a feminist, you ignorantly spit on the sacred struggle of the past 200 years. You bite the hand that has fed you freedom, safety, and a voice.
In short, kiss my ass, you ignorant little jerks.”
Every few months, a new “Literature is Dead/Dying” think piece crops up in high-profile media. Perhaps you’ve noticed. As a book nerd, I certainly have, though they’ve begun to bleed together: Their diagnoses of literature’s ills tend to be eerily similar.
I’ve suspected for a while that these essays, as a category, might somehow be rooted in declining privilege: Literature has never been a majority interest in America, so I’ve wondered if these writers might be projecting some kind of status insecurity onto literature. Still, until recently I’d never thought to look at the identities of the authors before. And I certainly never thought I’d discover that every last author whose work I had read on the subject would be a white male—or that all but one was straight.
Read more. [Image: Wikimedia; Mark Edmundson]
#points and laughs #points and laughs some more #MAKE WAY MOTHERFUCKIZ #I’m so excited about this #like yeah dude #y’all have been writing the same book for hundreds upon hundreds of years #no shit there’s a ‘weak demand for [your so-called] ‘serious books” #no shit we have no interest in you anymore #no shit we’re looking to female / queer / poc / etc authors for a fresh perspective #go cry you big overprivileged babies #scribble some more arrogant freudian shit that no one wants to read #(except more straight white dudes with an overinflated sense of their own importance) #(sure straight white guys can produce fabulous writing that I love but they’re usually the ones who aren’t up their own asses) #(your david foster wallaces and bret easton ellises can go fuck themselves the boring arrogant pricks)
So much all these comments. It’s ongoing save the white cis het dude ivory tower academics! Endangered species.
I just had this conversation with a straight white dude a few days ago. Imagine his shock when I rattled off the names of a good half dozen authors of color who are writing amazing things and winning awards for it. He actually started Googling them in front of me like I was lying to him. He got even madder when he realized that two of them were published by houses that have rejected him. Often. I pointed out that if he tried reading things written by people who aren’t just like him, his writing might improve, but I don’t think he got it.
down with Important Literature