All that “equality” talk is an elaborately constructed facade. Equal pay? Reproductive autonomy? Ha! We really exist for one reason only: to insinuate ourselves into the world of men, enslave, and conquer. Our movement’s name isn’t actually Feminism but in truth, the League of Bitter Misandrist Hags Who Burn Phalluses in Effigy Nightly and Wake Ourselves Up With a Fresh Vial of Male Tears in the morning. LOBMHWBPIENWOUWFVMT is a doozy of an acronym. You can see why we changed it to feminism to begin with.
All of our marriages and hetero life-partnerships founded on equality and mutual trust? Lie. Our sons we’re raising to respect women? Total lie. Our male buds, queer and straight, into whose bosoms we confide? Our tweets about how cute and supportive our dads were on the soccer field? Lies. Our male allies and movement leaders? Mere props. Our gushing over Idris Elba’s sexy pics, our choosing Team Peeta vs. Team Gale? An act, an act, an act—Katniss should have made those whiny boys eat nightlock in book one, then teamed up with President Coin to wreak havoc.
What my feminism is really about. Clearly.














