it's stupid because you've been on the earth for a while now and every time someone says oh you're a feminist, wait until you need to open a jar or yeah everyone wants equal rights until it's time to pay the bill huh you mostly just grit your teeth and suffer through it because you've been up and down that argument before about a million times
so you talk to your bathroom mirror about it: are you aware women only got the right to open a credit card during my mother's life? the ECOA was passed in 1974. if you want, i could ask her to pay.
interesting that their biggest argument against feminism is just "sometimes you'll need help with things, and then you'll be sorry". interesting that they think of women as being damsels in distress and they can swoop in and save you. when you ask someone to take the trash out, you're just asking for support - it's not a gendered thing. interesting that they think of these tiny moments where they can offer any service to their community as "proof" that men are secretly their better. that everyone owes men for these small moments, just because they may occasionally take on a tiny request. interesting.
the bathroom mirror isn't useful. murmuring your soliloquies into your shower. delivering the presidential speech that about how there should be no discussion on rights, justice, and equality.
but there's something deeply sad in there, too. because at the core of it, it's that you're always being reminded of your weakest moments. the times you've realized - oh fuck, i really am not strong enough. the times you've had to call your dad because, yeah, you don't know how a car works. the times where you were horrifically, terribly - acting like a girl.
because god forbid one of those men sees you like that. something in their eyes just... lights up. like you're an emblem of everything they've always secretly believed. you're having a bad day; you fuck up the parallel park. when you get out of a car, a man says women! like he's been waiting to drop that particular bomb. your family is falling apart and you're stressed at your job and you don't have time to grocery shop but when you raise your voice after being interrupted; your coworker's eyebrows shoot up. okay, let's calm down for a moment. i thought you said more women deserve a promotion?
over and over again; that resounding belief: sure but you all actually secretly love the patriarchy. because god forbid you ever need a man to pull you out of a burning building. god forbid you ever stand on your own two feet. you are constantly in the space of either proving them wrong or proving them right - but you always have to be proving something. and it's a tuesday, and you come up on one of these fucking moments where suddenly and fucking terribly - you're weak.
you need someone to just fucking help you. like literally, anyone else. fuck, goddamn it, you can't get this stupid cap open. you're having a flare up of your carpal tunnel. you've already tried using a towel and even your teeth.
it's just... the look of that sly fucking triumph on his face. like see? nobody's really a feminist. not really. at the end of the day, you all need me.
