“Feminism is a socialist,
anti-family political movement that encourages women to leave their husbands,
kill their children, practice witchcraft, destroy capitalism and become
lesbians.”
I ran across this Pat Robertson quote the other day. I’m not sure when he said it, I guess all that
really matters is he said it. After
several weeks of listening to men discuss the female reproductive system I have
decided I have something to say as well.
I
haven’t killed my children. I’ve
considered it a time or two upon entering their rooms reeking of moldy food,
sour gym clothes and crushed Cheetohs; but decided against it after having
spent the better years of my life (physically speaking) raising them to become
responsible people. I always had hope.
I’ve
not become a lesbian, although I’m not sure anyone really becomes a
lesbian by choice. I wonder if any woman
has opened her eyes to the breaking day and said, “Today I become a lesbian!” Understandably, women have often thought why
in the hell am I living with an anatomically different human who looks at me with glazed eyes when I speak. Mr.
Robertson’s comment of “making” one a lesbian seeks to imply that lesbianism is
an anti-male lifestyle choice. Does that
mean a heterosexual woman is making an anti-female choice?
I
don’t know about destroying capitalism.
I’d like to think the female species is the mother of
capitalism. Without woman to bear the
children, raise the children, wash the clothes, press the clothes, cook the
meals and smile and nod at social functions where would man be? For centuries we have been forced out of the
marketplace. Could man have exploited
this economic philosophy with a baby on his hip, stirring a pot of soup and
mending a shirt? Of course not!
You’ll
notice of course, I am not traveling in any chronological order. I have no idea if Mr. Robertson, by his
quote, felt this movement a chronological chain of events. Leave
their husbands? Well, yes—yes I did that
once. I just couldn’t pretend anymore. I
couldn’t bear to be someone I wasn’t for another minute. It wasn’t Mr.
Robertson’s definition of feminism that did it. It was my definition of myself
that did it. I found the real me and my
ex-husband didn’t like her, which is totally okay, since she didn’t care much
for him either. It was a mutual thing, you might say.
He
said, “Stop acting like this!” and she said, “I will not either!” And then he said, “You’ll not continue like
this with me!” and she said, “What a capital idea!” It is glaringly clear now this “new me”
caused the break up and I’m really quite proud of her, though I am hoping she
has some long range plans. This
capitalism thing Mr. Robertson is so taken with has pretty much left most women
with no healthcare, no retirement and very little hope of securing and
affording either anytime soon.
Enter
the witchcraft. You know I’ve been doing
an awful lot of thinking lately-as my new self that is- and I’m quickly coming
to the conclusion those women might have had something there. I mean what other movement, or religion or
whatever you care to refer to it as, is completely dominated by women? What a concept! Everyone knows the title of the female
practitioner of the “craft” as it is called.
She is a witch. Men can’t be witches. They can be warlocks, but they can’t be
witches. How many other titles do you know where the instant thought is,
“female”? And, what images the word “witch”
brings to mind! Powerful, forceful, dangerous
and yes, even evil! Though if you ask me most witches I ever heard of always
got a bad rap. No wonder Mr. Robertson threw that one in out of nowhere. It is almost as bad as the killing children
part, though I suppose some witches have been accused of trying. But, I can’t think of any book or story
written by a female that portrays witches in such a negative light.
Actually,
I think most fairy tales we’ve all grown up with accuse us, women that is, of
the very same thing Mr. Robertson does and that is that age and independence,
for a woman, is an evil thing. Once a
woman is older and thinks for herself she becomes a witch out to destroy the
happiness of a man. She plots to ruin
his chance of living happily ever after with a young beautiful girl. In the
end, beauty and youth always prevail and the young and beautiful princess marries
the prince then loses her name, her identity and for the most part, her freedom
and she lives happily ever after. The
witch by this time has met some horrible fate involving fire, poison or some
other suitable death. Usually, she is
killed by the prince seeking to marry the sweet young thing. And, once the
older, smarter, independent woman is out of the way, his life is blissful
forever.
Well,
Mr. Robertson life is not a fairy tale.
Real women, with or without the tag feminist, want several things beside
tending the children, ironing the clothes and working for seventy cents on the
dollar. We want to be ourselves and be
loved for knowing who we are. We want to
be free to make our own choices, even if it involves children; children are one
of our most favorite things you know.
I’ll bet we’ve spent a lot more time with the little darlings than you
have. We want to love and nurture and
expect it to be returned in kind. We
want to be capitalists, or socialists, or whatever the hell we feel we are
called to be. We want a world where sex
does not determine one’s worth or brains.
We want to be treated as equals because we are equals. We will settle for nothing less, even if we
have to resort to witchcraft to achieve it.
Has anyone seen my toad?
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