So I am sitting here watching Xena reruns. Xena and Gabrielle are visiting India and come across a woman about to be thrown into a fire because her husband has died and it is custom that she join him.
“Sati (also called suttee) is the practice among some Hindu communities by which a recently widowed woman either voluntarily or by use of force or coercion commits suicide as a result of her husband’s death. The best known form of sati is when a woman burns to death on her husband’s funeral pyre.“
Just when you think women have come a long way… here comes Trump to remind us that we still belong slim, pretty, and quiet, with easy-to-grab pussies.
Do the words “feminist” and “feminism” raise your hackles, or even worse, make you chuckle or scoff? Have you ever thought about why? Not gonna lie, those words used to piss me the fuck off. I thought I was an anti-feminist because I DO think mothers should be home with their babies. I DO think women should create a happy, warm home for their families. And I believe that humans are more content when traditional gender roles are respected.
But guess what? I AM A FEMINIST! Because I ALSO believe that women should make the same pay as men. Women should be able to walk down a street without being harassed (Catcalls are NOT compliments! They are displays of dominance!). Women should be able to have a couple drinks and wear a short skirt without worrying about being raped, and then blamed for it.
“Just grab her by the pussy.” Words that I keep seeing people defend as “just words,” “locker room talk,” “not any different from 50 Shades of Grey.” Let’s pretend they were just words and not bragging about actions that actually happen (Because Trump supporters seem to hate that whole “reality” thing). You want the leader of your country to talk like that? You want your children to look up to, and admire him? You want your little boys to grow up and say, “Look at that at pig. That other one is pretty hot, though. I’ll just grab her by the pussy and let her know what’s up?” You want your little girls to grow up and say, “Well, I mean, he’s super rich. Maybe if I let him grab me by the pussy, I can be rich too!!??”
Is that what you really want? I want my son to love, respect, cherish, and defend women from pricks who go around grabbing pussies and calling women bitches and pigs. And I want my daughter to be able to go out there and make her own damn money. I want her to walk around her city without fear. I want her to go to parties without bringing her own special cup with a lid to avoid being roofied from the locker-room-talk guys.
I’m happy that if my husband dies, I won’t get thrown into a fire. But I’d be even happier