Mordant Belle

In honor of my new commitment to mature feminist dialog, I feel ccompelled to bring you this lovely insight from xckd.com:

In a burst of needed rebirthing, I have marked all my previous posts private and begun anew. What started out as a personal journal of feminism burbled into blinding silence, mostly because when I went back and looked at what I wrote that seemed so edgy, rebellious, and outrageously unheard of before now just seems like the shallow observations of a reasonably frustrated teenage girl. Which I was at the time, so I suppose that’s nothing to be ashamed of.

But I don’t think my previous postings reflect the true depth of awareness I’ve ascended to in the past few short months. Maybe I’ll bring them back one day…they were good, just…shallow. Young. And yeah, maybe I am young, though I’m vain enough to think I’m not that shallow, but there’s so much MORE to what other feminist bloggers are saying, so much more substance, that it inspired me to “take it to the next level”.

Sure, it’s irritating to seem to be forced to choose between being attractive and being taken seriously. Sure, it sucks when guys catcall and make boobs comments and evaluate my looks, even if I don’t know who the fuck they are. And yes, I still get pissed off when a girl says she’s “fat” because she can manage to pinch some skin between her fingers.

But honestly, that’s just the feminism springboard. I’m now diving headfirst into the pool.

I have declared my Women’s Studies major.

And I’m going to use as many horribly cliché metaphors as I possibly can. Bwa ha ha ha.