Just read this.
When I talk about feminism in a group, most often to men, I get passionate.
Like, really passionate.
Sexism is my lived experience. I have been leered at and groped and even kissed without my consent. I have been catcalled.
I have been raped.
I have seen so many of my sisters being treated like objects, like disposable cum deposits. I have seen them abused and beaten.
I don’t need a reason to get angry. I am angry, all the time. I am angry when a woman gets killed because she said no. I am angry when a woman gets called “bossy” for doing her job. I am angry when hundreds of Aboriginal women go without justice for their murder. I am angry when a man screams “hey baby” from a passing car window. I am angry when Jian Ghomeshi is going to go free because, somehow, a woman who pursues a relationship with a man cannot have been that upset about being physically abused.
I am angry at patriarchy, because patriarchy is what we live in.
Do not tell me to calm down. Do not tell me: “well, if only you’d have a reasonable discussion…”
I am not responsible for your discomfort at my anger. I am not here to make you feel comfortable. I do not exist to placate the man who would get upset at facing his privilege.
Yes, I am an angry feminist.
No, I don’t hate men.
But I fucking hate that people think I shouldn’t be angry about this.