GUEST POST: You are not a feminist

Females are born. The stereotypical roles, behaviors and appearance of women varies across different cultures. No female is born with the knowledge that she should grow long hair, apply makeup, dress in skirts and heels, smile sweetly, speak softly and provide caretaking to men. These stereotypical behaviors, roles and appearances are forced on her, in service to a male-dominated society which does not value her as an equal. Socially constructed behaviors, roles and appearances are not innate to any individual.

Feminism is the socio-political advancement of females, an oppressed sex class. Actions and behaviors which promote males and male-dominated social systems are not feminism. Women who value and promote the rights and protection of men over women in any circumstance or situation are not feminists.

You think I just don't understand, but I don't believe you.

Stop coopting the term “feminist.”

If you privilege trans concerns over woman-born-women’s concerns, you are not a feminist.

If you believe that the question of “what does it mean to be a woman?” has been settled, and that the only legitimate answer is that a woman is anyone who declares that identity, you are not a feminist.

If you regard a love of pink, frills, makeup, and high heels as evidence that a person is really female deep inside, you are not a feminist.

If you believe that being a woman is based on personal conviction, and that body, genetics, and socialization are irrelevant, you are not a feminist.

If you use the phrase “radical feminist” as an ugly epithet, you are not a feminist.

If you uncritically believe in “brain sex,” you are not a feminist.

If you insist that everyone who self-identifies as a woman must be one…

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No *one Is not born a woman* , does NOT mean *but one can do so if one identifies as such*.

Men have oppressed women for 10,000 years. As women, we have a direct matriarchal bloodline which passes both the wisdom, and the pain, of being a woman, from mother to daughter, generation after generation after generation. Our biology, specifically our reproductive potential, is the cause of our oppression. This is being a woman. No amount of medication or surgery will make a man into a woman. It is an insult to women to even propose so.

TheRealThunderChild

This famous quote , by Simone De Beauvoir, “one is not born but rather becomes, a woman” Seems to have been co-opted by the trans lobby as a totem for their cause, meaning, as they see it, that one can become a woman, so to speak, by defining one’s self as one, ie; ” identifying”.

Well. I’ve a few questions then.

1. Have you ever belonged to a class of people whose reproductive biology is seen as their duty?
2. Given that, have you ever belonged to a class of people who are used, via rape of said, as a weapon of war and ethnic cleansing, throughout history and still, to this day, around the world?
3. Do you belong to a class of people who are held accountable for said rapes, and violence toward them in general, because you have a vulva?
4. Do you belong to a class…

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No… That’s not the Right Word, Either

I didn’t say the right thing. I could see that. He had been watching me so intently, his mouth curved in a slight smile that I didn’t recognize. His head forward, face down a little, tilted, as if he was presenting his cheekbone to me. Looking, up, almost, at me from the corners of his eyes. His eyes.

It was a very generous gift, I said so. And added, with a smile of pride, enamored, that he had very good boyfriend skills. Imagine me, my smile said, with such a fine catch as you!

It wasn’t the right thing.

I made mental notes, and the next time I touched on how well his mother had reared him, to give such thoughtful and unique gifts. They were just perfect. Because, they were. And he knew it, his eyes glowed as he watched me unwrap.

But, it wasn’t his mother. That wasn’t the right thing. That, very much, was not the right thing, said the involuntary tightening at the corners of his lips. The deadening of his eyes.

On the next occasion, I could tell by the way his eyes roamed over the gifts, almost caressing them, that a great deal of thought had gone into his selections. That he had thought deeply of me, of what I wanted most, when he made his purchases. I complimented his memory and attention to detail. Both very compliment-worthy attributes, but no, not the right things. Not the right words.

As a class, the word is appropriation. Those males, tired of their self-compliance to gender socialization, who decide it must be easier to be a woman. Who decide they can be better women than they were men. They re-define and re-word and re-create and re-claim. They appropriate.

As an individual, the word is inhabitation. He doesn’t want to be like me. He wants to be me. He wants to occupy me, my life, who I am.

Those gifts, they were never for me. They were for him. For his inhabitation of me.