[TW: cissexist language, non-binary exclusion] There are the occasions that men—intellectual men, clever men, engaged men—insist on playing devil’s advocate, desirous of a debate on some aspect of feminist theory or reproductive rights or some other subject generally filed under the heading: Women’s Issues. These intellectual, clever, engaged men want to endlessly probe my argument for weaknesses, want to wrestle over details, want to argue just for fun—and they wonder, these intellectual, clever, engaged men, why my voice keeps raising and why my face is flushed and why, after an hour of fighting my corner, hot tears burn the corners of my eyes. Why do you have to take this stuff so personally? ask the intellectual, clever, and engaged men, who have never considered that the content of the abstract exercise that’s so much fun for them is the stuff of my life.
Exactly. Your “playful” argumentation is in fact a series of personal attacks. You don’t get to attack us and then say we’re too emotional.
Yes. It might be an interesting intellectual exercise for you, but this is my life and my reality we’re talking about.
This actually applies to all genders.
(For whatever reason, this wouldn’t let me reblog, so I copied and pasted instead.)
To the first man, who I met by the Eiffel Tower my second week in Paris, when I didn’t know better. Who took me out…
LOL SO TRUE
THIS is the best scene ever
I stand corrected.
My favourite character :)