An Unexpected Flash of Something That Looks Very Much Like Feminism

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Here, of all places. Below is an excerpt:

… Every presidential candidate, and most other politicians, since 1980, have been bowing and scraping before this constituency. But for some reason, the hunting trips and codpieces and brush clearing and all that metaphorical crotch measuring isn’t considered playing “the gender card.” It’s just considered the normal political pander to an aggrieved minority vote: the poor white males who’ve been treated terribly by all those powerful women and minorities and gays. What could be wrong with that?

I’m sorry, but this is truly sexist crap. Rudy Giuliani and Mitt Romney are out there one upping each other on who will be the most macho sadists among the crowd of warring GOP thugs. Hillary goes to her alma mater and says that her education at the women’s college prepared her to do battle with the political boys club and the gasbags’ eyes roll back in their heads and they start drooling and whining that she’s broken the rules.

Well boo fucking hoo. The rules are changing. Get used to it.

Half of this country is female and they’ve noticed, in case these manly men haven’t, that presidential politics is a very exclusive a boys club and we don’t find it all that odd to mention it. Certainly, if it’s ok for politicians to literally walk around with a codpiece to show their masculine bona fides, I don’t think it’s out of line for a female candidate to speak to a younger generation of women at her college and take a little bit of pride in the institution and her own accomplishments — since she does happen to be the first serious female contender for president in the whole history of the country. Excuse me for thinking she has the damned right to do it.

All these squirming little fools who talk about how they have to “cross their legs” whenever they hear her voice, or hallucinate that she’s “acting like a little girl” or any of a dozen other ridiculous, sexist responses to Clinton are revealing far more about themselves than they are about her. If anyone’s playing the gender card it’s them — and it’s a picture of a quivering little boy crying in the corner because he doesn’t want to share his toys with a girl. Tough. Eat some pork rinds and stfu. …

For additional related analysis without the “thank goodness for liberal men” nonsense, see The Garance.

–Ann Bartow

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