Tuesday, January 4, 2011

A liberated man

It has dawned on me that I no longer want to pimp my feminism to an audience that is already down with feminism -- because really, who wants to hear about how "feminist" I am? I'm not interested in persuading anybody who already identifies feminist. My friend, you are on your own path, and we both have to respect that. As long as we can wave to each other every so often, or converge for a snack, all is as it should be!

How "feminist" I am is a daily choice, and it is not a particularly glamorous one. I make it glamorous, because it is important to adorn oneself with romance, particularly when folding the laundry. There are lots of necessary things to be done, but too often as a dude I don't do them. Truly, I am of dudely stock: I would sooner starve and root in the squalor of some big idea than endeavor to clean the shower or plan a meal. How in the world does a dude become such a dude?

Like so many things, however, what is appropriate in one context may not apply in another. I will never be one to out-feminist the feminists, in any room full of feminists. Please reserve that distinction for whoever wants it. If only I could out-feminist the anti-feminists, that would really be something.

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