We claim to be a "post-feminist" society, but patriarchal thinking still lurks beneath, and it takes very little prodding to bring its apologetics to light, in both men and women. Honey (said the mirror, scandalized) Are you out of your fuckin' mind?īut the worst part about this-the most terrifying aspect of this book-is that the sentiment this book calls out still lay barely below the surface of, at the very least, American culture (being American, I really can’t speak to the rest of the world with much knowledge). "I am the gateway to another world," (said I, looking in the mirror) "I am the earth-mother I am the eternal siren I am purity," (Jeez, new pimples) "I am carnality I have intuition I am the life-force I am selfless love." (Somehow it sounds different in the first person, doesn't it?) Woman is the gateway to another world Woman is the earth-mother Woman is the eternal siren Woman is purity Woman is carnality Woman has intuition Woman is the life-force Woman is selfless love. You can always get dressed up and go to a party. In college, educated women (I found out) were frigid active women (I knew) were neurotic women (we all knew) were timid, incapable, dependent, nurturing, passive, intuitive, emotional, unintelligent, obedient, and beautiful. We're still, after all this "liberation," confined to the role of Chopin's "Mother-women" strikingly often.
We're reduced to breasts and our sex more often than even we want to admit. There’s still a significant disparity of women in mathematics and the sciences. How many women run Fortune 500 companies? ALMOST Zero (fewer than 5%). But how many women are in active combat? Zero. There are women in the army now, female firefighters, women working in construction and architecture and mathematics. Sure, we don't have men telling us that we "belong" at home any more (or at least not as often). The best thing is to suffer mutely and yearn for a rescuer, but suppose a rescuer doesn't come? If you scream, people say you're melodramatic if you submit, you’re masochistic if you call names, you're a bitch. "What'sa matter, you some kinda prude?" he said and enfolding us in his powerful arms, et cetera-well, not so very powerful as all that, but I want to give you the feeling of the scene. "Give us a good-bye kiss," said the host, who might have been attractive under other circumstances, a giant marine, so to speak. I've been in these places far, far too often to write off the circumstances in this book as some so flippantly have. I'm really confused what rose-colored glasses they're wearing, because as far as I can tell, the majority of this book is still far too true. I've seen people argue, both here and elsewhere, that this book is outdated and no longer topical.
0 kommentar(er)
