Feminism? Shmeminism!

Disclaimer: Look, I’m well aware of the debasement of females through history, and that for simply choosing to love someone outside their own culture or religion, women are still hideously persecuted in certain places on this planet (including our own fucking country), and I find it entirely sickening.

I’ve read a million books about the sometimes shocking female lot in life including ‘Possessing the Secret of Joy’ anything by Nancy Friday, and ‘The Vagina Monologues’, which let’s face it is very strange no matter what you think of vaginas. I subscribe to Time, Marie Claire and I watch the news constantly, I know there is still terrible inequality for women everywhere, I’ve always taken notice and I know what’s going on. I would always speak out against injustices towards my fellow females.

But let’s just put those terrible things to one side for a moment.

This bit is quite rude, I’m sorry.

A few years ago, I was in a pub in Liverpool (NOT Beatle or Irish themed if you can believe THAT), having a laugh and a joke on with friends about the best techniques for giving oral sex, as you do. One of our group, an old school pal I’d not seen in some time, was quiet and seemed very uncomfortable with the conversation.  I asked what was wrong out of politeness, not really caring.
“I think that’s disgusting” she said. “Performing oral sex on a man goes against everything our sisters fought for. Haven’t you got any pride in yourself? It’s just another form of male control and domination over you, and you’re allowing it. Not only that, you’re thinking up the best possible ways to PLEASE a man by putting his prick in your mouth. I’m ashamed for you.”

It was terribly awkward. Nobody said anything for ages… the only noise was throats being cleared, the shuffling of feet under the table, and an elderly man in the opposite corner ranting about the price of brisket.
I couldn’t take anymore so I apologised sarcastically to her, and followed it up with a vile repetitive gesture involving my hand, a pornographic sound effect, and my tongue pressed into my cheek.
I’m so sorry mum.
Don’t worry though, I was absolutely fucking shitfaced, and had probably taken a cocktail of drugs.

It’s a Thursday in 2011, and I wish to make the following announcement.
I am not a feminist.
*ducks to avoid projectiles*

I just don’t subscribe to this ‘sisterhood’ and ‘men are the enemy’ business that’s bandied about by certain females. I’m not a feminist, I’m an equalist. The computer just told me there’s no such word as equalist, but I don’t care. I’m typing it.
To be perfectly honest with you I think this whole ‘sisters’ business has been dragged on far too long. Men are not the evil or simple creatures that adverts, Loose Women, and radical feminists would have you believe. They are depicted nowadays as one of three things, the dumb patriarch who everybody else runs rings around, the classic ‘lad’ who is made to look stupid, or the sex object whose sole purpose in life is to keep his mouth shut while parading his abs around for bingo-loving harpies to soil themselves over.

I like men very much. I enjoy their company and feel a lot more comfortable sitting with a group of guys than with women. Women, even when they’ve been close friends for years, still occasionally feel the need to compete, and I dislike that.
I don’t prefer being around men because I’m one of ‘those’ girls who wants constant compliments and craves male attention, no way. I like being around men because they’re fun to be around, usually have a great sense of humour, and…you know. Well they’re alright to look at, aren’t they?
I was never an out-and-out girly girl who would sell one of her kidneys for shoes, or for the right kind of bag. When my friends were obsessing over make-up, I was obsessing over Marvel comics.
I suppose I’m very slightly tomboyish, I practically grew up with my two male cousins, and my dad was a massive influence in my life. I enjoy chatting about action movies, have a sports car fetish, absolutely adore football and don’t really like shopping. Gok Wan would fucking hate me.

Speaking of hate, you know which phrase is absolutely guaranteed to make me punch you in the ovaries?
“If a woman was in charge, these terrible things wouldn’t happen.”
Really? Yes, because women are so soft and fluffy, all marshmallow-like and ‘squeee!’ aren’t they? Women have caring maternal urges and a tender gentleness that forbids them to start a nuclear war, stab a vicar, or tread on a snail. Oh do fuck off.
Boudicca laughs at you. Joan of sodding Arc laughs at you. Women are just as angry and have the exact same propensity toward violent behaviour as men do, we are just not that different! I’m sure I could find some sort of scientific evidence to back my rant up online, but it’s late and I can’t be arsed. Just take my word for it, I read Shakespeare once so I’m not thick.
Some of the worst murders on that fruity crime channel I sometimes watch are committed by women. I think we put ourselves down trying to pretend we’re all floaty and ethereal, we should be embracing our rage and stop trying to distance ourselves from men.
For instance, I’m a woman. Yes, it’s true!
If I was put in charge, I have no doubt that after a time the power would go entirely to my head. I’d bring back pillories, Jules’s speech from Pulp Fiction would be my manifesto, and I’d make on-the-spot fines for hen night parties insistent on singing Abba songs.
Aside from a different concentration of certain hormones, and the fact that one is a plug and the other is a socket, we’re basically the same animal. Stop trying to separate us you crazy feminists, we complement each other and its fab!

I’m not saying feminism is a bad thing here, not at all. It’s just not for me.
I like men and women equally, I see us all as just people going through the same crap and trying to make sense of this mad shithole called earth that we all have to live on together.
Plus, there are few things better than a hot sweaty romp with a skilled penis.
Once again mum, I’m so sorry.
But be assured, I’m completely off my face on heroin. Again.

– Chrissy