How to Win at Feminism: The Definitive Guide to Having It All... And Then Some!. Reductress

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СКАЧАТЬ means starting every day with a hot cup of global-oppression awareness. Once you’re aware of the patriarchy, you’ll have to know every depressing fact about everything: which chemicals are in our water, how every meat-producing animal gets slaughtered and how much they are aware of what’s happening, which mountainous rebel faction is murdering which mountainous rebel faction, how many trees are left in the rain forest and how tall they are, which state legislature is concocting the latest horrible laws, which must-have products are made in the cruelest factories, what the depression rates are for bullies who get bullied by other bullies, and how long we have before the polar ice caps explode. Yikes!

      Are you ready to be the girl who knows how many plastic water bottles are floating in the ocean? If not, maybe you’re not ready to be the girl who gets equal pay. Think about that. If this sounds like too high a price to pay, gift this book to your offbeat younger cousin and go call someone a bitch. It’s okay to turn back and not be feminist—for now.

Having Friends Who Wear Glasses

      Marilyn Monroe said it best: “Men don’t make passes at girls who make friends with girls who wear glasses.” The rest of your squad isn’t making the leap with you (they’re “not into negativity”), so it looks like you’ll have to make some new friends. Well, brace yourself, because some of them might not be able to wear contacts.

      Now that you’re a feminist, you’re not allowed to care about whether or not your friends are hot (but not too hot), and that includes girls with sturdy ears and sensitive corneas. Scared yet? Don’t worry too much. You’ll still have cute friends, since feminists are cute! You’re just not allowed to block a girl’s number if she insists on putting dangerous glass right next to her beautiful eyeballs, even if her personal choice is totally cock-blocking you at the club. Still, it’s not too late to put down your protest sign and head on home.

      Hope You Like Cats

      It’s not like feminists have to go around in burlap sacks and Birkenstocks, but the fact is that you can’t be a feminist and not have a cat. Rules are rules! No more will you be able to brag, “I don’t even need a lint roller; I’m just a very low-static person.” Everything you own will be covered in the fur of woman’s best friend. You will not get through the terror of your first no-makeup selfie without a good purr-cuddle with your brain-parasite-carrying kitty cat. And if you have allergies, it’s time to get the fuck over yourself. Do you want to be a feminist or not?

      Having to Use a Menstrual Cup

      Haven’t you heard? Using disposable menstrual products is the same thing as hitting a manatee with your speedboat, backing up, and running it over again. Tampons and pads contribute to the waste stream, and as a feminist you’ll have to give a shit about the waste stream—or at least know what that is. That means using a DivaCup, which means being cool with dumping a tiny cup of blood into your office sink three to five times a month.

      Okay fine, you don’t have to shove a rubber trumpet mouthpiece up into your ladypiece, but you better have a solid reason why a menstrual cup is not for you. Try, “It’s just too big for my tight lil’ pussy,” or, “I’m making an artistic statement about our country’s love affair with cotton.” Everyone will get off your jock—for now. Remember, feminism is about choices and whether or not you’ve made the right one. Are you ready for that? If not, no one will fault you for turning back now. Really. It’s fine. We’re not being passive-aggressive about it. Go right ahead.

Being Tolerant of Others (Exhausting)

      Just because you get to be judgy doesn’t mean you get to be intolerant. Feminists have a responsibility to keep an eye on underrepresented groups and make sure their voices are heard, which can be, like, a huge hassle if you’re used to focusing on yourself. Are you ready to be aware of the massive privileges you’ve been handed as a result of colonialism, systematic oppression, and cultural genocide? ’Cause that shit leaves wrinkles. Just sayin’!!!

      If all of these hardships seem too high a price to pay, then perhaps feminism isn’t for you. Put this book away and go buy some fringy crop tops from a store that uses slave labor. But if you’re determined to soldier on, keep reading. Then buy some fringy crop tops from a store that produces in the United States but has a history of mistreating female employees. You’re on your way to being a real feminist!

       Plinky: Am I Feminist Yet?

       You got through part 1! Perhaps you think,

       “Am I feminist now, dear little ol’ Plink?”

       Oh no, my child, there’s a river ahead!

       Keep rowing, keep going, there’s more to be read!

       Gib gib, goob goob,

       Keep reading, you boob!

       I once put a pipe bomb in a senator’s mailbox, but it was the wrong mailbox.

       Oh my, what a rube!

       DISCLAIMER

      Again, we are mostly sure that she’s losing her mind and that these are baseless claims. Her braggadocio should not be taken as fact. Just, like, listen to the nice stuff!

FEMINISM: GET THE LOOK!

       A FEMINIST INVOCATION OF

      “Real” Women

       We are the women of Dove®.

       We are real.

       The women who soar so high on beautiful batwings of arm fat.

       We are realer than those skinny bitches.

       Because, actually, men like thick women.

       Not that this is about men. This is about us loving ourselves.

       We dance in our underwear, big bulky undies.

       Flying our white grannies as flags of realness.

       Plus-size,

       Us-size.

       Ain’t I a woman,

       Who can pose with her other curvy friends, laughing in underwear?

       Just ’cause I’m big doesn’t mean my skin doesn’t need moisture.

       We have real thighs, real bellies,

       Pussies that don’t quit, even in a sandstorm.

       We slap on that lotion, together, frenzied, happy, laughing.

       Oh my goddess, are we women.

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