Clean and Dry Intimate Wash (clearly, NSFW)

As self-explanatory as the title for this blog may be, I still have NO IDEA why I am writing this. To me, the product I am about to discuss should not exactly exist.

I thought it was all very basic. You get what you are given, and you embrace you lady garden. No garden is the same. Some of us are all orange trees and tidy rows of flowers – and others amongst us prefer thorn bushes and weeds. Heck, some of us just keep it bare.

But this article – and in particular, the product it is discussing – made my head explode.

This ‘product’ is called the ‘Clean and Dry Intimate Wash’, and is designed to make your vagina sparkle.

Oh, no, wait. That’s vajazzling. THIS product actually bleaches your bits to make them appear ‘whiter’. Congratulations on successfully encapsulating sexism AND racism, all in one 30 second commercial!

You want to see the ‘commercial’? Sure. But heed this warning: you will be sorely tempted to bang your head on the nearest desk at LEAST fifty times upon viewing:

I can just see the marketer’s thoughts now: ‘Sad, attractive girl… needs to be the right SHADE of white – and make sure she’s wearing a white t shirt, and sitting on a white couch – and she is SAD because her lady garden is too DARK.’

They even included the sad music at the start. What a thoughtful touch.

And afterwards, she’s HAPPY. BECAUSE HER LABIA AND VAGINA AND ALL HER OTHER RELEVANT SEXUAL PARTS ARE NOW WHITE. NOT BLACK. WHITE. CORRECT ANSWER. BYE BYE. SEE YOU LATER.

I’m sorry, but did the world go slightly INSANE? I mean, I took vajazzling. I didn’t get it, but I accepted it, because, well, people are idiots. Labioplasty? Again, didn’t get it – but cosmetic surgery is everywhere…..

…..But this? BLEACHING ONE’S SEXUAL ORGANS BECAUSE THEY’RE NOT THE RIGHT COLOUR? Excuse me, but what form of dumb fuckery is this? When did we wake up and decide that THIS WAS A GOOD THING TO DO? I did not vote on this at the last Sisterhood Meeting! I vehemently reject all concepts of altering or changing my parts to suit someone else’s skewed idea of what is an acceptable form of ‘beauty’!

I have nothing else. I need to go lie down.

 

 

Dear Goddess Greer

Dear Goddess Greer,

I am writing to discuss with you your recent column, published in the Good Weekend section of The Age. I am one of your many unworthy minions, out there every day supporting and defending feminism against the crazy imbeciles who have next to no idea about what feminism actually is. In short, I am unworthy – but please take pity upon me for a moment, because we need to talk.

Specifically, we need to talk about your opinions on this other strong, independent woman:

Good ol’ J- Gillard. J-to-the-nizzle. Joo-lee-ah. Jooooles. Aka, our current Prime Minister.  One who is, albeit, struggling in a wee bit the polls, but who nonetheless deserves a bit of respect for simply obtaining the Prime Ministership in the first damn place. *insert feminist cheer and high-five here*

Germaine. Ms. Greer. Your Professorship. I am not here to tell you what to do (mostly because I am afraid you will destroy me with a single, withering glance). Rather, I am here to express my disappointment about the aforementioned article you wrote last Saturday.

Shall we begin?

“Few issues can be less important than what the Prime Minister wears. As long as prime ministers are male that is. Nobody knows how many suits a male prime minister might have, and nobody cares. An appearance before the public in a brown suit might cause a frisson, and blue isn’t seen all that often, but as long as the general impression is subfusc, he will pass muster. The issue of collar and tie has been resolved in even the torridest parts of Australia in favour of that combination.”

I cannot agree more. And yet, how hideous is it that this is the case – that a woman is still judged more on what she wears, rather than what she does? Why don’t we all stop this hoo-hah right now?

“For women heads of government the issue of what they wear is crucial. No matter how heavy her workload the female prime minister must appear ”groomed”, that is, with not a hair out of place, uncreased and uncrumpled. She must smile…..A female politician is expected to look serene and unruffled; if she looks as if she has any appreciation of the momentousness of what she may be called upon to say or do, she will be described as looking grim or worried. Julia Gillard wears her face like a china mask; even when she is sneering bitterly at an opponent, her face is smooth, her expression of the blandest. Her smile may not be dazzling but it is ready.”

Again, I agree that what women wear is crucial – and yet, I try to place as little emphasis on it as possible. I instead try to focus on what they do. Given, if Julia turned up to work in a bikini and board shorts (or, Lord forbid, some budgie smugglers) I might have a little trouble focusing on what she’s saying – but all this crying and pearl clutching over her jackets? No.

I am also in agreeance that Julia “wears her face like a china mask” – in that yes, she does sometimes appear to be a bit impassive. She’s probably wondering about what she’s going to have for dinner. If I had Julie Bishop and Tony Abbott bleating at me from across the floor in the House of Reps, I too, might tire of this after a while. And if I were her, my solution would be to get a bit more angry occasionally. But then again, I am not a political advisor, and nor am I Julia (because if I was, I would have marched across the House of Representatives to stick a well placed heel up Abbott’s arse. But I digress.)

My point here is this: by simply adding to the continuing commentary and criticism of Julia Gillard’s appearance and expressions, you are not doing anyone an ounce of good. Attack her politics, by all means. Attack her carbon tax, or her stance on gay marriage, or any other form of policy that has seriously pissed you and got on your goat in the last few years. But please, please, PLEASE do not attack her appearance. Because by doing this, you just add to the overloaded pile of shitty, snarky comments about What Women Wear and Why They Are Wearing It Wrong. And no one needs to hear that.

“Julia Gillard isn’t a clothes horse. She’s a hard-working professional politician, but she isn’t allowed to look like one. Hence the dreaded jackets. Underneath are her workclothes, the same black pants and black top she once would have worn under her gown for court appearances. The jackets are intended to brighten up her image, each one fresh out of the box. Instead she looks as if she’s wearing clothes that don’t belong to her, like an organ-grinder’s monkey.”

I am a little confused about this paragraph. Are you critiquing the system in which Julia is not allowed to look like a politician? Are you simply saying that she should dress more like a hard-working politician?

If it is the first one, by all means – carry on. If it’s the second, well, I am still confused. Because surely we can tell that she is a hard-working politician without consulting her wardrobe?

“There must be decent dressmakers left somewhere in Australia but Julia’s wardrobe-meisters haven’t found them. A jacket that rides up and creases between the shoulder blades is worse than no jacket at all. If Labour is not to be annihilated in the next election, something has to give. The Prime Minister’s stage-managed image is less interesting and engaging than the real person we used to know. I think Australians are big enough to cope with the sight of their female Prime Minister in shirt-sleeves.”

Okay. I see. In this part, you are critiquing the stage-managed image of Julia Gillard here.

If you were one of my university students (please, dear God, make this happen. But give me sufficient time to gird my loins beforehand), this would be the point at which I add a little comment saying, “You need to make this part clearer. Move this point up a few lines, and emphasise that you are critiquing the stage management of Julia Gillard, not the woman herself. Otherwise, it appears that you simply have a deep-seated hatred for Julia’s jackets.”

Make it clear, Goddess Greer. Make it clear. Because otherwise, you appear to simply be joining the uninformed masses in criticising a woman’s image, and not her actions.

Look, Germaine: you stand for a lot. You are everything I want to be when I grow up. You deal out snarky, cranky opinions on every single topic that pisses you off. You attract equal amounts of love and hate wherever you go, and you made a dent the size of an asteroid in the field of feminism. And for that, I adore you.

But it makes me immensely sad to see one woman critiquing another’s appearance. I understand that it happens, and that everyone does it to some extent. But your voice is so wonderful for feminism, and so loud, and so well-known that I can do nothing but beg you to please use it more wisely. Can we please not turn this into a Fashion 101 session for women, and instead focus on Julia’s politics?

Yours in true servitude and awe,

xxxxx

“Get a life, will you?” and other useful suggestions

I’m often told to get a life. In fact, a commenter told me exactly that yesterday. It was such a useful suggestion, I sat there for a moment and considered what this (clearly enlightened) individual meant when he (or, perhaps she) meant when they said “get a life”.

Did they mean, “stop wasting your goddamn time blogging about Nutri Grain commercials?”. Did they mean, “stop whining?”. Did they mean, “this is a sad and pathetic excuse of a life, and you need to invent a better one?”. Or were they simply concerned that my whip-smart intellect could be better put to use say, creating World Peace?

Let’s explore these options.

If they did mean, “stop wasting your goddamn time blogging about Nutri Grain commercials”, then I hate to say it, but – it IS my own goddamn time. I can do whatever the flipping freaking fuck I want with it. I can stand on my roof and serenade the neighbours in a rooster costume if I felt so inclined. I can terrorise innocent shoppers and run naked around my local Coles. I can also, if the urge strikes, get on the internet and Have An Opinion. Why not? Everyone else (including yourself, dear commenter) has one.

If they did mean, “stop whining” – well, no. Sorry. But a million, gazillion, BILLION times NO. Again, I can do whatever I want. And if that involves pointing out the complete and utter idiocy of Nutri Grain advertisements on the internet, then so be it.

If they did mean, “this is a sad and pathetic excuse of a life, and you need to invent a better one?”. Well, touche, my friend. You may think that my life (the teeny tiny sliver of it that you have seen through this blog) is sad and pathetic. But again, that’s my own business. I appreciate your instructions on all things Life Related, but I believe I can find my own way. Thanks all the same.

I should also point out that this commenter (amongst others) asked me if I had “anything better to do?”. It may shock and surprise some of you, but, well, no. I love this stuff SO MUCH I’m actually going to write a PhD on it.

So, quite frankly, no, I don’t have anything better to do. I’m quite infatuated with the idea of spending four years of my life examining gender stereotypes, and how to break them. It’s not that your suggestions of me “getting a life”, and “finding something useful to do” aren’t helpful – it’s just that I already HAVE a meaningful life, and it has been, and will continue to be, quite useful.

xxxxx

Max Tomlinson and the letter of complete and utter idiocy

Where to even begin? Do I start with Max Tomlinson’s letter to Dr Carol Ford? Do I start with the fact that he was fired quit after this letter?

Or do I start with the fact that Tomlinson is a knuckle dragging, unevolved ape of the highest order?

Dear Carole. (Well, at least he’s polite. I mean, he didn’t write, ‘Dear Carole, you crazy, equal rights opportunist’. Although, technically, he should have called her Dr. Ford. But I digress)

I have just read your pathetic piece in the Courier-Mail. While I generally ignore the bleatings of sourpusses like you, your piece was so depressing and negative that I was moved to find your email address and simply say: Get a life.

See, that’s funny, because *I* generally ignore the rantings of old has-beens misogynistic pricks like you, Tomlinson. But this was an opportunity too good to miss. Your letter was so foul, so vile, and so hideously close minded that I simply had to pounce on it. I, too, have found your email address. And your phone number. And even your Facebook profile. Except I have enough manners to not contact you through these methods. Yet.

The world would be a better place if people like you stood for political preselection and learned the hard way that ability is not measured by chromosomes.

The world would actually be a better place if people like you crawled back to the Dark Ages, where you could prop your feet up and proclaim to be the superior gender in peace. Even then, I bet that some serving woman would have spat in your food.

Question: Why don’t you have a go? Answer: Like most women, you probably don’t possess the necessary drive, determination and decisiveness that men innately possess. It’s not a personal criticism; it’s a fact of biology.

Funnily enough, I am now driven and determined to meet you, and place a swift kick in your balls. Men do not “innately possess” any more drive, determination or decisiveness than women. The odds are stacked against them by numb-skulls like you from birth, you ignorant arsehole.

Where, for example, are the great female explorers, mountaineers, warriors, inventors, chefs? Blokes dominate most areas of human endeavour because Nature equipped them with something called testosterone. That was part of Nature’s grand design to enable men to be stronger, more fearless and more determined than their sisters. Sorry, Carole, fact not fiction.

Oh, come on. Every five-year old with internet access can answer this one. Female explorers? Check. Female mountaineers? Check. Female warriors? Check. Female inventors? Check. Female chefs? Check.

And as for your testosterone? Congratulations. You have a penis. I am most sincerely pleased for you. I can assure you, this was nothing to do with a ‘grand design’ – there was a 50% chance you would end up with one. I wish most fervently that in your next life, you come back as a woman. Because I fear that this is the only way you will understand what ‘equality’ truly means. Sorry, Max – fact, not fiction.

Women occupy a special but different place in the world to that of men. I’ve been married to a wonderful woman – a proud mother of four successful adult children, not a nuclear physicist – for nearly 40 years.

The only way I can answer this section is with an appropriate image:

 For yeras [sic], I’ve heard women like you ask my wife at cocktail parties, functions and dinner parties: And what do you do? The clear inference in the pregnant silence that follows my wife’s answer that she is a proud home-maker makes my skin crawl.

That’s ironic, because your tone is making my skin crawl, Max.

Women like my wife are the life-givers, the embodiment of sacrificial love (the purest form of love), the primary keepers of the flame of civilisation that separates us from the animal world, and yet the Sisterhood frowns on them for not joining the anti-male club that you so typefy.

GODDAMN. HE KNOWS ABOUT THE SECRET ANTI-MALE CLUB. Ladies, we’re going to have to change our password. “Penis haters” just isn’t subtle enough, I feel.

OF COURSE I’m not a life-giver, Max. I don’t necessarily want children at this stage, and I’m smart enough to (brace yourself) use contraception! What bothers me more here is that YOU are potentially a life-giver. If you have reproduced, I just hope you haven’t passed your antiquated views on to your own children.

And stop flattering me about being the “primary keeper of the flame of civilisation that keeps us from the animal world [and] the embodiment of sacrificial love”. You can stick these comments up your arse, because it is your own animalistic, out-dated views that are keeping us from a more modern, evolved society.

The anti-male world of conspiracy theories in which you and the Sisterhood inhabit is the complete antithesis of the world in which positive women thrive. Women who can’t cut it in – what did you call it?, the boys’ club – can easily cover their inadequacies by claiming bias, sexism, misogyny, chauvinism etc. etc. ad infinitum. It’s so tiring to read such twaddle.

“The anti-male world of conspiracy theories in which you and the Sisterhood inhabit”? This sounds like an awesome theme park. I imagine there would be games of ‘pin the needle on the penis’ and endless renditions of singing “I will survive”, and the entire Annie Lennox back catalogue. Kind of like a hen’s night, but where we DESTROY THE PENIS, not celebrate it.

Ahem. However. Max? Positive women can thrive in any number of places. We’re kind of like flowers – if by flowers I mean like a cactus or a venus fly trap. We thrive despite idiots like you attempting to trample all over us, or cry out that we’re not “protecting the flame of civilisation”, or whatever such drivel you crapped on about earlier. We thrive not because of you, but despite you.

We even – shock, horror – THRIVE IN BOY’S CLUBS. We don’t cover our inadequacies by claiming bias. It’s been proven that bias exists. And guess who encourages and reinforces that bias? You, Max. It’s all you, and your middle-aged, sad little cronies.

Face reality, my dear. Smell the coffee. Try to turn your sour, negative, anti-male view of the world into something more positive and productive. Demonising men may be your life’s quest but fewer and fewer people are listening.

My dear? Excuse me? Carol Ford is a Doctor – who the fuck are you? A now-ex media advisor? And as turning her sour, negative, anti-male view into something more productive? I think Carol already achieved this when she got your hideously Stone Aged views published, and had you fired.

Demonising men isn’t anyone’s quest, Max. If you feel this way, then so be it. But feminists such as Carol and myself aren’t out to castrate you and string your balls up on the washing line. We’re out for equality. Which is even more scary for old-fashioned bigots like you.

I repeat: GET A LIFE.

Kind regards,

Max

Max. It truly is you who needs to ‘get a life’. I think that’s fairly clear from this letter.

I shan’t bother singing off with a ‘kind regards’, because I don’t actually have any regards to send. Instead, I’ll sign off with this: I am simply going to wait and watch while your fusty, archaic views of the world rot . I will wait until more and more women such as Carol and myself speak up, and until you feel so outnumbered that you retire to your little home, and whine bitterly about how women these days are ‘too ambitious’, or ‘too loud’, or ‘behave too much like men’. And when this happens, I’ll laugh happily at the fact that you had the opportunity to change your mind, and you never did. Instead, you chose to be ignorant and close minded, and the world did not care, and it moved on without you.