feminism sucks

feminism and her cousins are all one ginormous shithead. at least that's what i think of them sometimes. actually, having any progressive politics sucks. sometimes, anger crashes over me like a reckless wave, leaving me soaked in resentment. my politics make me see, feel, and hate certain things while making me want, seek, and expect certain things. that makes for a whole fuck of a lot of inner turmoil, especially within the various contexts of this world. war on terrorism, war on iraq, war on dissent, war on drugs: essentially, we're in a war on everybody and everything. i seem to be able to preach and teach about picking your battles so as not to feel overwhelmed by the magnitude of all the injustice, yet i often feel like it's just one mother battle. those of us on this side of the arguments are up against some seriously heavy ideology: manufactured, well-funded, and downright dangerous. their forces are enough to make me want to suggest sometimes that we just shut down the whole mission and head for the mall.

as for feminism, well she can be a bitch for me to contend with. she makes me wrestle with the big stuff and the everyday. she's on my ass every minute. and she makes matters of the heart pretty tough. consider that even the most feministy of our men can't cut the mustard. it would seem, my straight sisters, that some kind of sacrifice on our part is inevitable if we're interested in hunkering down with someone. recently, i have seen a few of my sisters resist and suffer break-ups as a consequence. others seem to have found a way to succeed, to locate the magical temperature setting that keeps a relationship cooking without it bursting into flames. maybe they ended up forgoing a partnership for a relationship. and sure, that's a way to go. but when i've tried it before (stuffing all my big purpleness into a 'nice' box or category), things did not pan out. and by now, the proposition of toning any of this shit down so that i'm a more viable partner strikes me as absolutely unendurable.

i've said it before and i'll say it again: i accept feminism (and every one of her unruly relatives) not as dinner party guests who have outstayed their welcome, but as part of my chemistry. and i know i'm not alone - i'm sure most of my counterparts are also navigating their own complicated terrain, trying to achieve some kind of balance in the journey. but every so often, when shit gets rough or a news story strikes a nerve (most do) or a friend fumbles through a wrong relationship or my expectations are scrutinized by a potential love interest as 'over the top', i think about what it would be like to give it all back. that life would be a whole fuck of a lot easier if i just traded it all in for a brazilian wax, gym membership, and a minivan. it would be like a spiritual brow lift: taut and wrinkle-free, yet unable to display any visible emotion. ain't that a small price to pay for a simpler life?