When I was a deputy district attorney, the sex offenders and other criminals generally tipped their hats to me and called me "Mrs. Prosecutor" even when I was throwing the book at them. While I liked to think that they appreciated my fair-mindedness, the truth is that I don't have a very intimidating persona. I used to envy the other prosecutors who had shackled prisoners screaming, "BITCH!" at them, because it seemed those prosecutors must be doing something right to arouse such ire in batterers and rapists.
The same goes for my blog persona. I have been called an "unthreatening" feminist, which is fair enough. After all, my blogging interests involve trying to foster discussion among people with disparate views about feminism and you have to be somewhat unthreatening in order to accomplish that goal. Still, there is part of me that regrets that I haven't managed to piss anyone off or inspire any ad hominem attacks.
Until now! Thanks to banned troll David Duff, I now feel as though I have really arrived as a feminist blogger!!!! It took me nearly an entire year of blogging to finally get a blog post dedicated in large part to criticizing my psyche, but it's finally happened and I can now rest easy in the knowledge that I must be doing something right to inspire someone to characterize me as one of the "mad, bad and dangerous to know ones who I call 'feminasties'." I share this honor with British feminist bloggers Stroppybird and Louise Feminista at Stroppyblog, which will definitely go on the old blogroll here. Here are the excerpts of what Duff has to say about this place and your humble blogger:
. . . I indulged in some frolicking which, alas, at my age only means pestering some wretched women on their blog-sites . . . The first, an American, posts under the name The Happy Feminist which, were she British, would make her actionable under the Trade Descriptions Act! At first glance she appears quite normal in a breezy, bossy, humourless sort of way (well, she's an American woman and a lawyer, to boot!) but closer reading reveals that she is totally and unutterably miserable. She has self-obsession the way some people have bad breath, it is all-enveloping. She recently wrote a long, long post on her father which constituted the most virulent, personal attack I have ever had the pleasure of reading and in which she accused the poor sap of suffering with 'narcissistic personality disorder'. In her next post this frantic woman who has raised 'me, me, me' to the level of an ideology proudly boasted that she had placed herself in therapy. When I pointed out gently that in view of the fact, apparent to any disinterested outsider, that she was already pathologically self-obsessed, and that spending several hours on a couch talking about herself to some charlatan was hardly likely to help, I was banned! Needless to say, the Sisterhood rushed to congratulate her on her 'courage'(?) for taking this bold step into the mumbo-jumbo-land of psychiatry. Mind you, with very few exceptions all of her commenters, including the men, were 'an ego short of an id'! . . .
Well, you might say that it is grossly unfair to judge an entire movement by just a few of its adherents. True, but the feminist commenters seem to be in total agreement with all this nonsense. Anyway, it leads to a more important question: what is feminism for? What, in the western world in the 21st century is its purpose? You might suppose that it is to take the fight to foreign lands and free the women there. Going abroad and bossing the natives around used to be called 'imperialism' and was rather frowned upon in Left-wing circles. Perhaps it still is because apart from one or two desultory references, a sort of Sapphic lip-service one might call it, it never seems very high on the priorities of western feminists as exampled in 'Blogdom'. Quite the opposite, they seem totally immersed in their own perceived grievances which in this day and age are petty beyond belief. The Great Feminist War was won long ago. Of course, there might be the odd outpost of male chauvinism hiding out (and if they've got any sense they'll make sure they're well hidden) here and there but nothing to get worked up about. Modern feminists are like victorious soldiers crossing the battle field and kicking the corpses!
The Marxists have it partly right (in this and other things) in saying that the 'personal is political'. They are right, I think, in the psychological sense, that those women who nurse personal grievances probably from childhood, like the 'The Un-Happy Feminist above', are likely to take up daft ideas and take them to extremes. There are, it seems to me, two types of feminists. There are the mad, bad and dangerous to know ones who I call 'feminasties'; and there are the sensible, humorous, confident women, comfortable in their feminine skins who I call 'feminicelies'.
Hee hee. This post is to be savored, not only because it is about one of my favorite topics (meeeeee), but because it is such a textbook example of the kind of ad hominem criticisms I addressed in this post and this one. And being called a mad, bad, and dangerous feminasty is such lovely validation.