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It was to be expected. It happened to each and every one of us who enjoy a certain forum and we ventured to disseminate feminist messages. Because every social movement is linked anti-movement, aiming to silence and kill, any blogger and any blogger defending feminism on its platform will be sooner or later assign the label "feminist mad" or Misandra other gender.
Rabid feminist You know what my notes, I read. Carefully. However, some olibrius who strive to drown my feminist discourse - nay, to bury it in their soliloquies phallocentric not far from bullying, assign me for a long time the label of "feminist enraged. " However, I think the label in question does not make me quite justice: I'm not mad, I'm fucking. Now then, the label of rabid feminist, I do not reject, on the contrary, I appropriate, make it mine. I decided to wear it proudly like a flag. I'm fucking. I'm fucking because women still earn on average about 73.6% of men's wages - the full enjoyment of human rights is subject to economic freedom. I'm fucking because women are more difficult to qualify for Employment Insurance. I'm fucking because retired home shop bazaar women live on average 65% of retirement income men. I'm fucking because women have less access to employment and unionization. I'm fucking home shop bazaar because 60% of women with disabilities live violence during their adult life. I'm fucking because for the past 20 years, more than 600 Aboriginal women have gone missing or been murdered across Canada. I'm fucking because SOS domestic violence organization still receives more than 25,000 requests for assistance annually. I'm fucking because every time we claim these facts that spring - which are current - and we face this patriarchal system four truths is inevitable, this handful home shop bazaar of delayed social hoarse with profanity water carriers to make us shut the hell up. And this is not some half-drowned in their own kingdom or awkwardly mâlocentriques bloggers who will tell me how to be a feminist trolls. Do you want the rabid wilt thou. The courage of anonymity Hiding behind an avatar to impose its law on a feminist, it's really fucking brave, said no one ever. These guys, they are small. So clinging home shop bazaar to their privileges in their crisis "no" snug hidden behind fake names, huh, because revealing his identity, we leave that to others, they rush like mules, threaten, order, and lend to feminist discourse the worst intentions. Sometimes it will be giving us the order to "stop our hate." Other times, it'll home shop bazaar be speaking on behalf of our genitals, home shop bazaar saying that they are filled with sand or lack of natural lubrication, or, ânonnent their ancient Freudian theories of envy - or frustration - the penis. You would think they would eventually get tired. But no. Each new release, each new feminist contribution, sees a wave of increasingly violent, to threats, and, by so few individuals but who put so much of their time and energy, you would think they are ten thousand. Or - I can only speak of those who pollute my gallery home shop bazaar and my emails insults and threats - I can say without a doubt that they are few. Four, five at most. They are few, very few productive, but oh so entertaining, and worthy of an article in Pravda. Fixing these few commentators and bloggers mâlocentriques is so focused on the equation "feminism = hatred home shop bazaar of men and phallus", they forget that feminists, even "in fucking" co