HI ALL MY BUDDIES
I can’t actually account for where I’ve been or what I’ve been doing. I’m pretty sure the answer is somewhere between nothing and convalescing, but does it really even matter? Imagine a world in which no one said anything when they in fact had nothing to say. I’ll wait while your faithful robot butler scrapes your brain matter from the surrounding surfaces, does a reconstruction and reinstallment.
Are you booted up?
I remembered: I’ve been round the back of the internet. As in reading words printed on paper and sewn together, then scribbling notes in my diary instead of online.
I’ve been toying with the idea of being a librarian, and then at least a books feature writer for one of those reputable sites from where millennials like myself scan the news.
And feminist nannying between being miserable at/quitting/getting fired from regular jobs.
And most importantly, avoiding the current discourses on gender, race, and income equality because sub-subculture oppression is very on trend and social media feminists have gotten way out of hand and I would like to murder each of them with a envelope of poisoned glitter.
I have, though, been considering producing some newer writing samples on the off chance that I find the wherewithal to update my resume and slog through yet another cover letter so I can adult with a little more style (owning groceries, wardrobe beyond superhero t-shirts).
In the midst of all these considerations, a new Facebook group called Reconstructing Feminism was founded. I was like, ‘cool, maybe we can finally have the constructive conversations I’ve been waiting for! The sort where everyone has a seat and shuts up during other people’s turn to talk, susses out their feelings on a variety of sensitive topics, and eventually figure out what we need in the next movement.’
Last year I worked on and never finished an article for Harlot of the Arts about online feminism; this new group was the perfect excuse to wrap it up. So I did, and for a good minute there we were having the discussions of my dreams until an ivory tower feminist saviour started pasting oppressive labels on everyone participating in a conversation regarding being active (in the name of feminism) in causes that oppress certain groups. I got fed up and left the group because my nerves is bad and I take in far too many crime shows to have enemies.
However, I’m still looking for people with whom I can have these conversations. So, I offer to you my latest essay, “Passionate Women Type.” and ask that we talk about it. I’m open to criticism, but not redirecting conversations to further outrageous agendas.
WordPress has gone through some weird updates and wants me to download everything and its mother to embed a PDF, so sorry about the weird links.
Thank you for reading passionate women type.