This is a guest post from my friend Jen. It started out as an email between friends. Jen writes and blogs for the a newspaper in central Pennsylvania, and she was, in her own words, asking us to “talk her off the ledge” of posting the following to her own space on her blog.
Where she lives is an extremely conservative place.
Jen is upfront that she is reacting to the interview of Caitlin Moran, who is a British feminist/humorist, and not reacting to the book itself, which she hasn’t (yet) read. Saucy language ahead.
Yesterday on the radio I heard an interview with the author of a book entitled something like “How to be a Woman.” I thought having a 4-year-old would have reduced the lightning speed at which I could get pissed off. I thought I’d learned to be patient and listen before launching into full-on fulminating.
Really? I need a book? And I need it NOW? I’m 43! I’ve given birth. Now, I need a book called “How to be a Woman”? I thought all I needed was a vajayjay and my brain to be a woman, but it appears I need that AND A BOOK. It gets better.
Groovy, book-writer lady closed her interview by saying, “It comes down to this, do you have a vagina and do you want to be in control of it? Then you are a feminist.” Now I might need a drink, because now I have had this vision that in my sleep, my junk has been running amok. It’s possible to not control my hoo-ha?
Immediately my mind goes rampant too. Let’s check the news reports because now I think, maybe, in my SLEEP, my chick-stuff has been escaping my underpants and going out committing acts of vandalism or worse. Maybe in the middle of the night it has been stealing letters off signage and leaving lewd messages in the bushes at major intersections.
Let’s see. “80 year old man bludgeons home-intruders dressed as meter readers.” My bits wouldn’t be caught DEAD in a blinding yellow nylon vest. But they would totally smack the sh*t out of some home intruders. They don’t look 80, though. Okay, safe so far. It wasn’t my marauding vajizzle.
Hmmm… a failed attempt at robbing a convenience store where the suspect was apprehended with 27 dollars and a bag of Doritos. Coulda been the munchies for sure but there don’t appear to be any telltale signs of orange dust. I think I’m still safe.
So, okay, I’m going to go with NO. I think, sadly, my lady-bits go where I do and don’t run away like the gingerbread man or anything exciting like that. I think I AM in control of it, whether I’m a feminist or not. I think if I were writing such a thing it would simply state the following.
a) Be who you are and love that.
b) Find a way that you’re comfortable with to keep your nether regions tidy, and don’t make a big deal of it.
c) Have babies when you’re ready to be responsible for them.
d) You are not required to have babies unless you want them.
e) No is always an answer.
I suppose that’s why I didn’t get a book deal.
But hey, nice job, groovy book lady. Thanks for objectifying feminism via a body part. Well done. A word of advice? Think outside the box.