Funny you should ask! I’ll let you in on my origin story if you like?
Well, once upon a time I was your average, man-loving, non-opinionated, quiet, submissive, totally sexually available young woman. I loved the dudes. I can’t tell you how much I worshipped those blokes. I couldn’t even open a jar back then. Ah, the memories. I shied from the colour blue. I refused to step into a room that contained power tools. Football frightened me into week long seclusions. Don’t get me started on the horror beer brought on.
And then, one night, I left my window open. It was hot, y’know? I probably shouldn’t have done it.
But in flew the Misandry Fairy. She was magnificent. As she fluttered into my room she left a trail of glittering misogynist tears that sparkled like diamonds. She wore blood red especially smeary lipstick, the type that scares guys and makes them afraid of kissing you, to ward them off. She had beautifully hairy legs, hairy arms, and wore high waisted shorts (which we all know is the 2014 trend men hate). It wasn’t 2014 at the time, you understand, but she’s a fairy so I assume she looked into the future to find inspiration for her particular misandric look. She was also a lesbian. Because we all know how those lesbians hate men, right?
"Claudia," she said to me. "It’s time to face your destiny. Inside of you is a burning misandric rage unlike anything the world has ever seen. When you wake up tomorrow, I want you opening jars left right and centre. Open so many jars that the men get jealous. Open so many jars that you and everyone around you are in danger of drowning in the contents. Keep on opening them. No matter what. Never give up."
I was so shocked that I did not answer. It was the middle of the night and I was unaccustomed to being visited by such wise and noble beings.
Before she left, she turned around in the air, her fluttering rainbow wings shining in the moonlight, and whispered: “Also, you’re queer. The Coming Out fairy was busy so I took his shift. Have a nice day.”
The next morning I awoke and began to carry out my purpose. From that day on, men have trembled to see me. Occasionally they whimper “don’t let her near any jars for the love of God”, but most of the time they merely scatter as I enter any vicinity I please.
I owe her everything. Without her, I would not be the woman I am today.
This story is 100% true. You can quote me on it and everything. Never let anyone tell you fairies don’t exist. They do. And they’re raging misandrists.
Apologies to Artemisia Gentileschi.
"US can’t tell other countries to improve their records on policing and peaceful assembly if it won’t clean up its own human rights record’ [source]
Meet Cory Nieves. He’s a dapper, 10-year old CEO of Mr. Cory’s Cookies who started his own booming cookie business in an effort to help his mom buy a car after moving from NYC to New Jersey in 2009.
Don’t you just love this?
EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS OMFG
omgomgomgomg SOOO CUTE
Yet food pantries remain full of the same canned pumpkin and expired boxed meals they always have. Obese people are shamed and told what to eat, while people deemed skinny enough to have an eating disorder are also shamed for not taking care of their “health.” There is a serious disconnect here that should tell anyone who’s paying attention that this is not about justice or health in any form––it is about vanity.
When asking the server how the animal being served was prepared, no one seems to wonder whether that server has basic health insurance or whether that server is affected by the fact that the restaurant industry has one of the highest rates of sexual harassment and lowest rates of pay. When waxing poetic about the “salt of the Earth” farmers from which they buy their unpasteurized milk, no one seems to worry that an estimated 10 percent of American farm workers are children. When pearl-clutching over the things we “don’t know” about GMOs, as Kavin pointed out, no one seems to be concerned about their presence in groceries found at Price Rite––only products sold at Whole Foods.
If you are not as concerned about the people handing you your food in the restaurant as you are about the pigs on the farm where it was grown, your approach is classist….If you start telling someone all about your new trendy diet or asking them about theirs without knowing if they have an eating disorder that may be triggered by your prattle, your approach is ableist. If you tsk-tsk at people who are overweight for what they are eating and claim you’re concerned about their health, yet you’re not actively campaigning to make healthy food more accessible and affordable, your approach is sickening and I don’t want you in my activism.
The worst part of outfitting our police officers as soldiers has been psychological. Give a man access to drones, tanks, and body armor, and he’ll reasonably think that his job isn’t simply to maintain peace, but to eradicate danger. Instead of protecting and serving, police are searching and destroying.
If officers are soldiers, it follows that the neighborhoods they patrol are battlefields. And if they’re working battlefields, it follows that the population is the enemy. And because of correlations, rooted in historical injustice, between crime and income and income and race, the enemy population will consist largely of people of color, and especially of black men. Throughout the country, police officers are capturing, imprisoning, and killing black males at a ridiculous clip, waging a very literal war on people like Michael Brown.