By Suzanne Eovaldi, staff writer
When TIME magazine recently banned the word Feminism because of its overuse, a deluge of libfems pounded the editor so roundly that he/she took down the word from the no go list. This is the topic of the great blog piece by Kevin Jackson, an astute observer-writer of the American cultural scene. (1) “A lot of us just don’t want to be associated with a supposed movement that has no unifying theme except being ANTI-MAN!” says one commenter. The libfems may finally be getting the notion that being anti-man represents the basic discomfort rabid feminists have with their own personhood. In short, that it is an inability to succeed on their own merits without reliance on being a victim.
Whining like little children, feminists gained nationwide attention to such an extent they were eventually provided Women’s History classes in academic syllabuses. These offerings so devolved into idiocy that course titles now are laughable. Sexual intercourse was re-named PIV by one libfem professor who surely must have been struggling to fill up class time with something other than silly discussions about anatomy being destiny!
When a movement’s timing has come and gone, its end stages do just that, devolve. When those libfems got their way in the workplace, they put on their high heels and strode off to do a man’s job for which many were very unprepared. The nuanced atmosphere of high stake negotiations devolved into 15″ discussions of one’s female feelings, another’s lateness, another’s total absence “because my car wouldn’t start.” These unspoken clues about total inadequacy transmitted to bosses, opponents, challengers for positions. Part of being employable used to be getting the job done in spite of recalcitrant cars, an overnight snow storm, or a headache that resulted because of whatever.
When the feminists started stuffing those spike heels into their briefcases, feminism started to die off. Comfortable sneakers worn to work on the “L” platforms furtively were changed out before getting into those glittering Michigan Avenue elevators. And there’s the rub as a great literary figure once said. Appearances in the end wound up being the tipping point that brought down feminism. You only can make it so far while appearing to make it. You only can rely on your feminine charm so long to cover up those 15″ lateness marks on your evaluations. You only can hide your overt hatred of anyone or anything male so far when your own inadequacy points up the fact that the male at the table just let you defeat yourself. The American man just got tired of covering for you, just got fed up with the false eyelashes that masked the failure to perform. The American male’s ability to stand up to fierce competition, whether physical or mental, now seems to be the factor that is sinking feminism.
“Feminism is geared mostly towards middle class white females…it doesn’t represent women…no one requires a political label to help women succeed,” says another commenter to the Jackson essay. (2) But, of course. The libfems used harsh words, inflammatory roundtable topics, silly ploys to gain traction. A long ago analysis of Mayor Daley the son said he answered the order to place women in high places by doing just that. He put women in positions of power and left them to twist in the wind, alone. No backup assistant covered for a pushy feminist who just wasn’t handling Loop problems. He appointed no man whose only job was to get the job done for the boss that clearly couldn’t. Mayor Daley then quickly moved to put in a competent male when the libber slid off of icy Lake Shore Drive that still needed to be plowed at noontime. The Mayor never had to say, “See, I told you so.”
Look, the American workplace is so stressed now that it just can’t afford silliness. The silliness of young female news anchors reading prepared news stories in dresses without sleeves and hemlines up the yin yang is the last example of the failure of feminism. For all of its shrews, for all of its unproductive victims, for all of its once “I Am Woman: Hear Me Roar” ladies, feminism just can’t cut it. The water cooler crowd, the basic training types, the ladder climbers in 20 degree weather had to get a grip. And by the way, I got sick and tired of the unshaved legs in academia, the smelly clothing and armpits, the utter chaos when a water main break rendered the cafeteria off limits. Sorry to get personal.
SOURCES: (1) (2) http://theblacksphere.net/2014/11/feminism-new-f-bomb/