Call it the Sexbot Manifesto if you like. I am proud to stand by my sexbot sisters if this is what the alternative looks like. Breast-jutting, cocksucking, sports corset-and-fetish-heel-wearing, husband-pleasing-housecleaning, out-and-out-prostituting and all. Because, among other things? I've been meeting a lot of such women lately, and you know what? As far as actually supporting other women goes? These women, at least? They're a lot more "feminist" than you in my book, even if they don't apply the moniker to themselves at all. (And if they don't, may I note, I lay the responsibility squarely at your feet. Not Rush Limbaugh; not the "backlash;" you. Too, at least. You're walking self-parodies, some of y'all, especially. You and your REALNESS bullshit). Also, frankly, a lot smarter and a lot more interesting. And more interested. In other people. In other women.
But bottom line:
It goes like this. In my book? "Feminist" = "concerned about women and furthering womens' rights, ideally maybe eventually does something useful to that end." It does NOT mean "appointed myself my sister's keeper, on account of I'm vicariously embarassed by her, or some shit like that;" and ESPECIALLY not in the area of personal adornment and sexual choices--and yes goddamit I said choices, they may be shaped by the System but they're no less valid than yours no matter how much self-righteous up-your-own-arsehole gazing you've done.
1) My body, my choice. Yeah, it's individualist, it's Enlightenment-based, there are things you could pick at with it; but the thing is, lemon drop? You ain't doing that. In fact, I submit, you don't know the first thing about what you're talking about when it comes to your ideological ancestors. That's because, examining, you know, occasionally requires not just picking 'n' poking 'n' drooling over other women and whatever flashed across your headlines today, but occasionally going to the library and cracking open a damn book; and I don't just mean the ones that tell you what you already know, either. (NOTE: it is in fact possible to do this, go to the fucking library and read a book, even, whilst wearing a pencil skirt and high heels. If Joe Patriarch doesn't think so, know what? You can kick him in the 'nads. This can be especially effective whilst wearing stilettos. You may need to rip a slit in the skirt first if there isn't already a kick-pleat. There: isn't that much more satisfying than endless agonizing over your "choices?")
2) Yah, there is such a thing as consciousness-raising. Some folks think it's effective for widespread political change, others don't. But the thing is? Even among the ones who DID find it useful, historically? You were supposed to raise your OWN frigging consciousness. Dumbass.
3) How much farther does this sort of "stone the slut in the name of feminism" crap have to go before it finally dawns on your enlightened, wrenching-itself-free-of-its-Patriarchal-moorings, modestly-covered ass that this whole deal smells REALLY familiar, and not in a good way?
As the saying goes, if you don't feel this applies to you? I probably ain't talking to you. But if the comfy shoe or sensibly modest Prada pump fits, baby.
This patriarchy-enabling message has been brought to you by Pan Bimbo, Romy and Michelle, Fetish Diva Midori**, and Cyberdyke**.