18 April 2007
two sides of the same con
[Cross-posted to Long Sunday]
Feminism is the new spam mail, offering you the latest deals in lifestyle improvement, from the bedroom to the boardroom, from guilt-free fucking to the innocent hop-skip all the way to the shopping mall - I don't diet so it's ok! I'm not deluded! I can buy what I like!
Feminism TM is the perfect accompaniment to femme-capital TM: Politics, such as it isn't, belongs to the well-balanced individual (the happy shopper), sassiness is like, so where it's at (consumer confidence) and, most of all, one must never, ever admit to cracks in the facade (oh, you know, ideology). This foundation is flawless! And it lasts all night! Unlike men, titter, titter, etc. etc. Capitalism makes a better lover than any guy - it's full of shoes, and Sex in the City DVDs and gossip mags and, like, now we've proved that eating chocolate is more exciting than kissing....but didn't we know that all along, girls?...The world is ours for the taking...just let me finish this packet of Maltesers first...
Blurgh
Today's puff piece for equality by Jessica Valenti informs us that not only does feminism do wonders for one's flat ('as I was getting ready for the photoshoot for this article, the guy I'm dating...tidied up for me so the photographer wouldn't see what a tip my apartment is at the weekends'), it actually makes life more fun. You see, girls, it's not all about grim-faced non-shaving and being a bit angry. Feminism can, ohmigodnoway, totally help you out. Take Valenti's job description, for instance: 'I have an amazing group of women friends who spend their days speaking out against sexist idiocy - and who also happily dance their asses off with me when we're out clubbing.'
Apart from the rhetorical horror of folk actually 'dancing their asses off', Valenti's argument is a desperate bid to sell feminism as the latest must-have accessory - some celebrities have probably had their name on the waiting list for months. And, oh what a twist in the (no)tale. Cos, you know, I bet you thought that those brave women who spend their days boldly and stridently speaking out against, you know, SEXIST CRAP couldn't possibly be the same ones getting smashed at the bar and requesting Dirty Dancing tracks for the hundredth time...well, I've got news for you, sister! They really are the same girls! Who'd have believed it...
Trotting out the tired old line 'I used to think that all feminists were miserable and hairy', Valenti does her very best to sell us her feminist manifesto, in all its, cough cough, radicality: 'liking your body can be a revolutionary act' she concludes, regarding her navel with a curious kind of joy as centuries of political movements that dared to regard the holy body as secondary to egalitarian and impersonal projects crumble to bits around her.
(Incidentally, for the disproportionate fear that the statistically and historically minimal group of women who were both angry and had hairy legs have inculcated both in their detractors and in their faux-successors, we should salute them as often as possible).
Because you're worth it
'All women, especially younger women, deserve feminism in their lives '
Stripped of any internationalist and political quality, feminism becomes about as radical as a diamanté phone cover. Valenti 'truly believes' that feminism is necessary for women 'to live happy, fulfilled lives'. Slipping down as easily as a friendly-bacteria yoghurt drink, Valenti's version of feminism, with its total lack of structural analysis, genuine outrage or collective demand, believes it has to compliment capitalism in order to effectively sell its product. When she claims that 'ladies, we have to take individual action', what she really means is that it's every woman for herself, and if it is the Feminist-brand woman who gets the nicest shoes and the chocolatiest sex, then that's just too bad for you, sister.
Feminism is the new spam mail, offering you the latest deals in lifestyle improvement, from the bedroom to the boardroom, from guilt-free fucking to the innocent hop-skip all the way to the shopping mall - I don't diet so it's ok! I'm not deluded! I can buy what I like!
Feminism TM is the perfect accompaniment to femme-capital TM: Politics, such as it isn't, belongs to the well-balanced individual (the happy shopper), sassiness is like, so where it's at (consumer confidence) and, most of all, one must never, ever admit to cracks in the facade (oh, you know, ideology). This foundation is flawless! And it lasts all night! Unlike men, titter, titter, etc. etc. Capitalism makes a better lover than any guy - it's full of shoes, and Sex in the City DVDs and gossip mags and, like, now we've proved that eating chocolate is more exciting than kissing....but didn't we know that all along, girls?...The world is ours for the taking...just let me finish this packet of Maltesers first...
Blurgh
Today's puff piece for equality by Jessica Valenti informs us that not only does feminism do wonders for one's flat ('as I was getting ready for the photoshoot for this article, the guy I'm dating...tidied up for me so the photographer wouldn't see what a tip my apartment is at the weekends'), it actually makes life more fun. You see, girls, it's not all about grim-faced non-shaving and being a bit angry. Feminism can, ohmigodnoway, totally help you out. Take Valenti's job description, for instance: 'I have an amazing group of women friends who spend their days speaking out against sexist idiocy - and who also happily dance their asses off with me when we're out clubbing.'
Apart from the rhetorical horror of folk actually 'dancing their asses off', Valenti's argument is a desperate bid to sell feminism as the latest must-have accessory - some celebrities have probably had their name on the waiting list for months. And, oh what a twist in the (no)tale. Cos, you know, I bet you thought that those brave women who spend their days boldly and stridently speaking out against, you know, SEXIST CRAP couldn't possibly be the same ones getting smashed at the bar and requesting Dirty Dancing tracks for the hundredth time...well, I've got news for you, sister! They really are the same girls! Who'd have believed it...
Trotting out the tired old line 'I used to think that all feminists were miserable and hairy', Valenti does her very best to sell us her feminist manifesto, in all its, cough cough, radicality: 'liking your body can be a revolutionary act' she concludes, regarding her navel with a curious kind of joy as centuries of political movements that dared to regard the holy body as secondary to egalitarian and impersonal projects crumble to bits around her.
(Incidentally, for the disproportionate fear that the statistically and historically minimal group of women who were both angry and had hairy legs have inculcated both in their detractors and in their faux-successors, we should salute them as often as possible).
Because you're worth it
'All women, especially younger women, deserve feminism in their lives '
Stripped of any internationalist and political quality, feminism becomes about as radical as a diamanté phone cover. Valenti 'truly believes' that feminism is necessary for women 'to live happy, fulfilled lives'. Slipping down as easily as a friendly-bacteria yoghurt drink, Valenti's version of feminism, with its total lack of structural analysis, genuine outrage or collective demand, believes it has to compliment capitalism in order to effectively sell its product. When she claims that 'ladies, we have to take individual action', what she really means is that it's every woman for herself, and if it is the Feminist-brand woman who gets the nicest shoes and the chocolatiest sex, then that's just too bad for you, sister.
