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Cash, Cars, and Ho’s: How A Feminist Can Love Hip-Hop

21 Oct

Like Jigga, I am also addicted to the game.

I am completely enamored with the world of what I like to call the “theater of hip-hop”. Most women who identify themselves as feminists would not dare admit any lingering love for rap and hip-hop. The genre earned the reputation for objectifying women during the Gangsta rap era, which began in late 1980s Los Angeles. Hip-hop and rap that developed before Gangsta rap embodied a carefree, party-focused mindset; artists like The Sugarhill Gang, Grandmaster Flash, and Afrika Bambaataa are some of the first to popularize the rap genre at the tail-end of the Disco era. However, when the Original Gangsta himself entered the scene, hip-hop became a multi-layered genre with a niche for every fan. Ice-T released what many believe is the first Gangsta rap song in 1986: “6 in the Mornin'”.

Gangsta rap focuses on exactly what its name implies; artists of the genre focus on what they know best: the danger-tainted lives of black youths on the hard streets of L.A. Many people love to whine about what a horrible influence gangsta rap is on American youth, but it’s best to give young people the benefit of the doubt and assume that they will not get hold of AK-47s and run China White in the suburbs. At an early age I was exposed to the “My god! What about the children!?!” mentality that is strangely prevalent among square adults – however, I learned to take the words of gangsta rap with a huge grain of salt. My theory on “the theater of hip-hop” helps me to defend my love of rap to those who hate on the genre, especially my fellow feminists. I see hip-hop and rap as a large playhouse in which the artists are players on a grand stage. In this world, anything goes, and that may include referring to women as “bitches,” but the most important things to emphasize are making cash, driving fancy cars, and popping endless bottles of Champagne.

Listening to rap and hip-hop is nothing more than pure fun to me. There’s nothing more entertaining than turning up Ludacris’s “Move Bitch” and going for a ride through the suburbs. It may surprise some that hip-hop is as popular as it is among young, upper middle class suburbanites, but that is exactly who buys everything moguls like Jay-Z and P. Diddy deign to sell to young people. Dancing to rap and hip-hop is also endless fun; I cannot stand women (or even men) who refuse to dance to such music. This is usually the sign of a square and/or someone who cannot be trusted. Rap also gives me the opportunity for me to pretend that I am a much bigger baller than my reality may show. Therefore, I do not find it contradictory for me to call myself a feminist and a fan of hip-hop. Hip-hop is an art form that suffers due to endless witch hunts. Good hip-hop (of which there is an endless supply) is not demeaning to women, and the songs that do mention “bitches” and “hos” should not be taken so seriously. My advice to anyone questioning the importance of hip-hop in our culture is to buy a copy of Jay-Z’s The Blueprint 3 and then try to argue their points. Rap and hip-hop are American cultural institutions not to be dismissed, but saluted. Now pour one out for your homies.

Here are three rap songs that currently make me want to stay on my grind, if you will:

1. “Toot It and Boot It,” YG

As a proud feminist I should hate this song. It’s a young man’s anthem about how he loves to fuck chicks and leave them, but I figure it can also be utilized by women regarding their personal lives. Plus, the video is pretty good and features one of my favorite rap video clichés: thick women dancing in the rain.

2. “My Chick Bad,” Ludacris ft. Nicki Minaj

Ludacris has long been the greatest Southern rapper. My childhood is peppered with memories of his fantastic little ditty, “Move Bitch (Get Out the Way).” For his most recent album, Luda focused on beats that make you want to shake your ass, and “My Chick Bad” is my go-to song for getting pumped up for a night on the town. It also features the hottest female MC of the moment – Nicki Minaj (an upcoming piece on Fixed Air will sing the praises of Minaj.)

3. “Successful,” Drake ft. Trey Songz

Drake is the second hottest thing on the rap scene now, right after Nicki Minaj. This song says it all: “I want the money, money and the cars, cars and the clothes, and the hos, I suppose…I just wanna be successful.” I give mad credit to Drake, who is of course best known for playing Jimmy on the Canadian teen soap opera, Degrassi: The Next Generation. Little Jimmy is all grown up. Tear.


No, My Body is Not for Your Viewing Pleasure, Thank You Much.

20 Aug

The dreaded miniskirt - a gaurantor of catcalls.

A recent conversation among friends (in addition to this Jezebel post) prompted me to comment on what I feel is one of the most tragic, perpetual obstacles facing girls and women everywhere. The constant objectification of the female body is a challenge presented to all women, regardless of whether they want such attention. The matter of clothing, and the question of whether women can attract “negative” attention by wearing certain things, is becoming a hot-button issue in the media. I remember Bill O’Reilly had made some comments regarding a young woman, Jennifer Moore, who was raped and murdered in New York City. For some reason, the fact that she had worn a miniskirt out that night made it into the reporting of her brutal murder. O’Reilly, ever the scumbag, made this gem of a comment on his show:

She was 5-foot-2, 105 pounds, wearing a miniskirt and a halter top with a bare midriff. Now, again, there you go. So every predator in the world is gonna pick that up at 2 in the morning.

The idea that the victim of such a horrific crime could be somehow culpable for her fate is truly nauseating.

Every day, women are subjected to unwanted evaluations of her appearance. This is not due simply to what she could be wearing – this is because women are institutionally perceived as sexual objects free to be rated and criticized by men. How do I know this? It happens to me every day, no matter what I’m wearing.

Women, whether we like it or not, are subject to a constant stream of assessments of our face, body, and overall physical appearance. Men constantly decide whether we are “desirable” or “fuckable”. We are the entertainment for our male counterparts. Many men (I’m not trying to make a blanket statement here, but trust me, it’s a lot of men) believe they have a right to rate and judge the appearance of every woman who crosses their path. Cat calls, whistling, nasty comments (“Spread those legs, mami,”) are often the norm in the lives of most women. I believe I first noticed men looking at me when I was little more than ten years old. Of course I was tall (perhaps around 5’4″ at that time) for my age and probably had begun developing in my chest, but I was nowhere near mentally or emotionally capable of understanding what was happening when I saw men leering at me. Adolescence can be a frightening thing for either sex, but with the growing emphasis on the sexual worth of young women, the difficulty of growing up as a girl in a society that seems to value the appearance of a woman above any other attribute can be devastating and confusing.

This constant objectification has spread into the educational realm, as well. At my high school, girls whose outfits were deemed “inappropriate” were forced to wear an over-sized yellow t-shirt for the rest of the day. I remember my sister being subjected to this barbaric display of control when she was a sophomore. I also noticed that the girls who were often forced to wear the big yellow t-shirt were the girls more often known as “troublemakers”. I would often wear tank tops or shirts that gave hints of cleavage, things very similar to what the other girls were wearing, but I never had to wear the t-shirt. This has led me to believe that certain girls were targets for breaking these dress code rules, while others (the A students, the Homecoming court, etc.) were the exception to this rule.

So what can be done to reduce the horror that comes with having breasts and hips? Nothing, really. Parents can take the extra steps to help educate their children on the sensitive nature of a developing body, which could perhaps change the attitudes of people over time. I know that if I have a son in this lifetime, I will surely teach him to keep any sexual thoughts he has to himself while in the company of young women. That’s probably the least I can do. Respect for women begins within the family, and it’s a parent’s responsibility to portray this ideal. Sexual thoughts, however, are natural, and it should not be a goal to suppress such a thing. Exercising discretion is likely the best anyone can do.

Unless something magical happens to change how society views women and their bodies, I will likely continue to endure catcalls and leering eyes for however long men will think I’m “hot”. Because being hot is the only thing a woman should have going for her – ignore her mind, humor, and values. She is tits, ass, and legs – nothing more. This is reality, and it’s sad for us all, but at least I look pretty living in it.

Waiting for a Man to Call You is Stupid: Here’s Why

19 Jul

You have a phone. Use it to get what you want.

Many women I know follow the “he’s just not that into you” school of dating. I cannot, will not, ever, ever, ever get on that train. I find it completely irrational that a man is expected to do all the legwork in dating. Some friends of mine (actually many friends of mine) seem to think that a man must make everything happen in a courtship situation. Not so, ladies. Not so.

Why is it that the male should decide whether HE’S into YOU? What about deciding whether YOU are into HIM? The double standard in heterosexual dating is entirely damaging to women. Women have been conditioned to think that a man must do all the pursuing, and if (god forbid) the woman does any of the hunting, she’s obviously DESPERATE. This way of thinking allows for women to become victims in a cat and mouse game that they might not even want to be a part of. I cannot tell you how many times I’ve been pursued by men whom I had absolutely no interest in! And they never give up easily! I’m sorry, but I’ve already decided whether I am sexually attracted to you within the first ten seconds of meeting you. Sending me random texts for the next two weeks saying nothing more than “Hey” will do nothing for you.

I’m not saying that women should go out and proposition all the men they find attractive. All I’m saying that women should do the shopping, too. What about finding out more about someone as a person before trying to date them? This generation is geared toward instant gratification – we have Facebook, Twitter, texting, and pretty much every other possible form of communication possible. If a guy gives you his number, he’s probably interested and may want you to contact him if he’s at all shy. How can it work to a woman’s advantage if she’s being told to not use any form of contact with a guy she might be interested in? Men have all the same insecurities (maybe more) as women – they are just as terrified of sexual rejection as we are.

What I’ve noticed about a lot of the women who follow books like The Rules (a fair review of this book will be upcoming on Fixed Air), is that they often go through high numbers of men in very short relationships. And many of them never seem to be single long enough to understand that a woman does not need a man to complete her existence. Quickly jumping from relationship to relationship is a completely detrimental practice that corrodes both mind and soul. You do not have to be “in a relationship” at all times to feel good about yourself as a woman. Sometimes, it’s knowing who you are, in terms of your values, expectations, and dreams that could give you worlds more confidence than a  boyfriend. These women tend to “play games” with men, and think that ignoring a guy’s phone calls will somehow make her more desirable. Guess what? Men have insecurities that also cause them to question whether a woman likes him.

I have recently asked several male acquaintances whether they think it’s okay for a woman to contact them. They all said the same thing – that it’s a relief when a woman they like contacts them. They say it takes the guessing out of the equation and lets them know that the woman they had eyed isn’t completely terrified of him. I think it seems completely backward and old-fashioned to have to wait for a man to do everything. The games that people play are completely annoying, and I feel that if people stopped playing and perhaps lowered their guard for a moment, they may be surprised when they connect with someone who isn’t completely shallow.

There is nothing wrong with asking a man out. Nothing at all. I’ve done it and it works. I asked out my ex. We are exes now, yes, but we were together for a long time. You don’t necessarily have to call a guy, either. Maybe send him a text inviting him to a casual get-together with friends. What’s most important is to get to know the guy first. That seems to be the top misstep people make when getting into dating relationships – you have no idea who the person is or what they’re about.

Most men probably pray to the gods each night that a woman will ask them out instead of having to go through a bunch of awkward lines, sweating off his Old Spice all the while. Asking a guy out works most of the time. (Probably 9 times out of 10). I challenge you to try it sometime. Why should women have to waste time going on dates with men they do not find attractive or interesting? Why should women always wait around to be hunted by emotionally out-of-touch alpha males? Oh yeah, because society told us to.

Feminists Can Dance On Bars, Too. So There.

5 Jul

Let’s be honest – I’ve been cutting loose ever since the man I loved ripped my heart out of my chest, stomped all over it, and then set it on fire. The solution to this pain? Dancing in/on bars. I’ve realized that I’m a good dancer, and I will make no apologies for behavior that may be deemed “slutty,” “un-ladylike,” or “inappropriate”.

Last night, DJ Moe challenged 15 girls to dance on the bar, and whoever danced the longest would get two free shots. I just HAD to win. I was up there for a good 30 minutes and had made it into the top three girls. However, Moe decided to fail us all after he decided that it had gone on for too long. Hence, no free shots. But someone gave me some flowers:

Flowers from some guy.

Anyway, some people have tried to tell me that dancing on a bar is in opposition with my strong feminist views – these people have no idea what they’re talking about. To me, there is nothing more empowering than having the right to dance on a bar if I’d like to. Another person also said that a true feminist would not accept drinks purchased for her by men. Not so. You do not have to accept a drink from a man if you don’t want to talk to him/don’t think he’s attractive. That is also a right women have – I have not accepted drinks from every man who has offered me one.

I know it sounds lame, but one thing I’ve always wanted to do is go-go dance in a club and get paid for it. I love dancing, so why shouldn’t I get rewarded for it? Without much further ado, video of me dancing to a stereotypical bar song:

Kick-Ass, Feminist Style

19 Apr

Hit Girl will fuck you up.

The trailer for Kick-Ass did no justice to an amazing piece of comic book movie.  After seeing the trailer at least five or six times, I still had no desire to see this movie. I’ve been disappointed of late in Hollywood’s offerings, though I did thoroughly enjoy Hot Tub Time Machine. I had to be dragged to this movie, but now I’m quite glad for it. It even had one of my favorite actors from Hot Tub Time Machine, Clark Duke. If you don’t know him yet, please Google.

Kick-Ass surprised me immediately – the first scene of the movie reveals the dark humor at play in the movie. I wish I could write a lot more about exactly what happens in the movie, but I’m afraid of giving too much away. Here’s what you need to know: Dave Lizewski is a nerdy high school student living somewhere in New York City. He constantly wonders why no one has ever tried to become a superhero. One of his nerdy friends tells him straight up: “It’s impossible. You’ll be dead in like, a day.” After getting mugged and noticing that someone watched but did not offer help, Dave orders a wetsuit online and invents his own superhero persona, Kick-Ass. Kick-Ass gains popularity when a YouTube video of Dave intervening in a fight makes it online. Dave then creates a MySpace account for people to contact his superhero persona.

I really don’t want to give away any more than that, but I did want to mention the character that completely steals the show. Hit Girl, played by Chloe Grace Moretz, is a 12-year-old ass-kicking powerhouse. Trained by her vengeance-seeking father, Big Daddy (played by a cheekily awkward Nicolas Cage), Hit Girl is the main attraction. From her scary abilities with knives to her tendency to call bad guys “cunts,” Hit Girl exemplifies the powerful feminist message that can often be found in comic books and graphic novels. There has been a bit of controversy surrounding Hit Girl’s potty mouth and unrelenting violence. Many critics have called Hit Girl’s character “morally reprehensible,” but why is that?

Kick-Ass is very much a violent movie, and for a movie based on a comic, it certainly pushes the limit on superhero violence. Before the story of Batman was retold by Christopher Nolan, the violence depicted in the previous films (See: Batman Returns, Batman Forever, Batman & Robin) was very much sterile – there was no blood, and bad guys would get completely knocked out by just one of Batman’s punches. Kick-Ass seems to be commenting on the superhero film from within an insulated superhero meme. The violence that is central to a superhero film is turned completely upside down in Kick-Ass. Dave’s desire to become a superhero is mocked by his friends because, indeed, no one can be a true superhero.  The violence utilized by Hit Girl, Big Daddy, and the rest of Kick-Ass‘s cast is simply the best they can do in order to fight crime. In the case of Kick-Ass, violence is necessary to defeat an impasse of real drug dealers with real guns, and the heroes are required to reciprocate. Hit Girl’s use of knives, guns, and her own bare fists should impress any superhero fan. Hit Girl is the comic book stock character of the strong female fighter on crack. Though I would not recommend taking your pubescent daughter to Kick-Ass (which is rated R), I imagine that every girl close to my age will feel inspired by Chloe Moretz’s character, at least on a minimal level.

I would predict that many will be more shocked by Hit Girl’s use of the word cunt before they even blink an eye at her dazzling knife skills. I found Hit Girl’s prowess to be truly inspirational, and her status as a comic book heroine realized onscreen is something to look toward in future superhero films. Perhaps the forthcoming Wonder Woman movie will take a cue from Kick-Ass and provide Diana Prince with more clothing and a stronger ability to kick ass without a silly lasso of truth.

Feminine Inking: On Women and Tattoos

8 Apr

The recent revelation of Jesse James’s infidelity against his wife, Sandra Bullock, has introduced the world to a tattooed lady named Michelle “Bombshell” McGee. If you have followed this story at all, you would know about the controversy being caused by McGee’s tattoos alone. Many have criticized McGee for her heavily tattooed body, but shouldn’t we be more concerned that she’s the type of woman to fuck your husband and sell the story to tabloids?

Kat Von D, pretty tattooed lady.

Where do conceptions about the “appropriateness” of tattoos on women come from? Notice that a lower back tattoo, once very popular among young women in the late ’90s/early ’00s, is now deemed a tramp stamp. If you get one of those, ladies, you’re just asking for it. And you know what “it” is. The stigma against women possessing large tattoos does not seem to affect men. When a man rolls up his sleeve to show you his tribute to Star Wars in the form of a Darth Vader tattoo, no one even seems to blink. A man with a tattoo is as masculine as the Marlboro man of yesteryear. But if a woman with a full colored sleeve of images that are probably meaningful for her walks into a crowded room, comments could range from, “Why would she ruin her skin like that?” or “She looks so trashy!” You get the idea. Tattoos reveal a double standard among genders, and as tattoos become more commonplace, women still seem to bear the brunt of tattoo criticism.

A recent conversation with the mother of one of my close friends revealed her disdain for tattoos on women. She told me about a woman she saw in 7-11 with a very shocking neck tattoo that read, “All Bitches Lie”. Okay, I’ll admit that getting “All Bitches Lie” tattooed on your neck over steps the boundaries of what might be appropriate to have tattooed on one’s neck, but maybe there’s a cool story behind it. Whenever I see a tattoo that catches my eye, I wonder what it was that prompted that person to get whatever it is permanently stabbed into their skin. I’m the owner of one tattoo – my astrological sign is on my right ankle – and I can assure you that years of thought went into this small tattoo. I’m currently considering another, but I will likely think about it for a while if it ever comes to fruition. I’m always impressed by those who can commit to large pieces on conspicuous areas of their body. I have an odd fascination with Kat Von D, a tattoo artist specializing in portraits and star of the TLC reality show, LA Ink. Kat Von D carries herself with the “Who gives a fuck?” attitude necessary to pull off large pieces of ink, and she’s gorgeous to boot. (Shameless promotion: Kat Von D has an awesome line of makeup at Sephora. You should try it.)

So what do you think about tattoos on women? Are they sexy? Are they inappropriate? What is it that causes someone to criticize what a woman does to her body? Perhaps it’s a conflict between the private and the public lives that women are expected to maintain. A woman is historically expected to appear chaste and respectable while in public, but in private, a man expects her to be a sexual firebomb. As Ludacris said, he wants “a lady in the street but a freak in the bed.” Tattoos are a very small part of this paradox, but relevant, nonetheless.

A woman whose name eludes me declared the following: “The difference between tattooed people and non-tattooed people is tattooed people don’t care if you have tattoos or not.” But if you’re tattooed, you probably don’t care what other people think of you anyway.

On My Way: Twentysomething Women in Hollywood

31 Mar

Greta Gerwig, Rhys Ifans, and Ben Stiller waste time in Greenberg.

A piece written by Irin Carmon on Jezebel asks whether the gender gap in film will be defeated by a new crop of twentysomething women.  In Noah Baumbach’s latest film, Greenberg, a 26-year-old actress named Greta Gerwig steps up to plate for my fellow female actresses and trumps Ben Stiller. Gerwig plays Florence Marr (which is a name that sounds kind of blah on its own) a lost soul of sorts, a young woman with a liberal arts education working a thankless job as a personal assistant. Florence, with her awkward gait and medical-looking bra, is the face of a befuddled young woman just trying to make it through the day.

As A.O. Scott put it, Gerwig’s Florence embodies “the particular confusions – emotional, professional, expressive – facing young, rootless women in 21st century America.”

Hmmm….young rootless women. I suppose I’m a rootless young woman. I am living in a bit of a limbo, between major cities, hoping to get any thankless job and labor my way toward future happiness. Are twentysomething women truly confused? I’ve certainly been confused before, about relationships, the point of a liberal arts education, how to properly file taxes. I think the question one must ask is whether it’s a bad thing to be confused. Confusion should be a part of youth, and your twenties are  a decade of self-discovery, worry, and general discontent. People in their twenties are still hopeful that they’ll be millionaires and movie stars.

Will the women of my generation overcome their suspected neuroses and make a move on Hollywood? I suspect that the death of the A-List could leave a gap for young, talented actors and writers. Why can’t a good portion of them be women? Take a look at the trailer for Tiny Furniture, the latest film by 23-year-old Lena Dunham. Dunham is well on her way to major indie film fandom, and I’m a little bit jealous. With the growing success of Gerwig and Dunham, I feel it may be time for me to make that transition to Hollywood as soon as possible. The only good thing about where I am now is the daily dose of disappointment that keeps me somewhat motivated. Well, that and the near-gurantee that I won’t get lung cancer from the air here.

Twentysomething female actresses, writers, and filmmakers – get on your grind.

Men Leave. But if They Don’t, They Still Die: The Lady Gaga Edition

2 Mar

Jezebel posted one of the most relevant and interesting quotes I’ve read in a very long time:

“Some women choose to follow men, and some women choose to follow their dreams. If you’re wondering which way to go, remember that your career will never wake up and tell you that it doesn’t love you anymore.”

All Hail Lady Gaga

This quote is from my current personal heroine, Lady Gaga. Gaga is touching on a subject that has an overt pertinence to my personal life. What I’ve recently realized is that no man (again, NO MAN) is worth compromising one’s own longterm career goals and/or emotional well-being. I am at an age at which many young women choose to marry and start families. There is nothing wrong with this if you are secure in such a decision, but countless young women have the potential to end up trapped in a situation that may be unlike one they hoped for. Dreams of domesticity are not always fulfilled in a healthful, loving way. One woman’s dream of raising a family could be comparable to another woman’s dream of becoming a published author, lawyer, or doctor. In any case, all women must put their mental and spiritual well-being first.

I am completely aware that I am not only too much of a child myself to even think of being married and having kids, but I am also much too involved in furthering my career. It took the recent and unwelcome ending of a longterm relationship to help me realize what my priorities should be. I gave this person my total commitment and love and they chose to give up on our relationship at a critical time during which I needed their support. He said and did some truly hurtful things, without reason or explanation. Predictably, the most hurtful thing he said was that he didn’t love me anymore. I cannot fathom suddenly changing one’s mind about such deep feelings and then having the nerve to throw something so painful in another person’s face. This person repeatedly told me, “your goals are unrealistic” and that “nothing ever materializes” (in reference to my writing). We’ll see about all of that, but I think I’m doing very well for myself now. Once the person you are with begins lambasting your hopes and dreams, your relationship is doomed.

Here’s what every young woman should know: do not drop out of school or move across the country to follow the whims of a random douchebag man. Eventually, when you find happiness with yourself, the right person for you will appear. And you won’t feel the need to drop everything. The ideal is to find someone who will support your pursuing whatever career you wish, wherever it may take you.

A career is your life’s work: it is not your job at the Sunglass Hut or any 9 to 5 in a fluorescent-lit office that pays the bills. You can find a man on any street corner, in any city, in any corner of the world. The trick is to find the right one.  He’s out there, but in the meantime, get your hustle on.

Are You a Woman with a College Degree? Prepare to Die Alone.

23 Feb

It’s been a little while since my last post. My apologies for that.

Last week I saw an article that requires a response from women everywhere, especially women who are independent, educated, and hold strong opinions.  In a piece decrying the nature of “hookup culture,” conservative writer Charlotte Allen makes an extreme claim that as women get older, their intrinsic stock goes down.

In The Mating Mind, Geoffrey Miller wrote:

Our ancestors probably had their first sexual experiences soon after reaching sexual maturity. They would pass through a sequence of relationships of varying durations over the course of a lifetime. Some relationships might have lasted no more than a few days. .  .  . Many Pleistocene mothers probably had boyfriends. But each woman’s boyfriend may not have been the father of any of her offspring. .  .  . Males may have given some food to females and their offspring, and may have defended them from other men, but .  .  . anthropologists now view much of this behavior more as courtship effort than paternal investment.

That’s a pretty fair description of mating life today in the urban underclass and the meth-lab culture of rural America. Take away the offspring, blocked by the Pill and ready abortion, and it’s also a pretty fair description of today’s prolonged singles scene. In other words, we have met the Stone Age, and it is us.

Living in the New Paleolithic can be hard on women, many of whom party on merrily until they reach age 30 and then panic. “They’re at the peak of their beauty in their early 20s—they’re luscious—but the guys their age don’t look as good, so they say to themselves: ‘Why do I want to get married?,’ ” notes Kay Hymowitz, a contributing editor to the Manhattan Institute’s City Journal, who is writing a book about the singles crisis. “Then they get to age 28, 29, and their fertility goes down and they’re not quite so luscious. But the guys their age are starting to make money, they look better, they’ve got self-assurance, and they’ve also got the pick of the 23-year-olds.”

She has a degree, but does she have a man?

The “new paleolithic” that Ms. Allen describes is the growing trend of women to delay settling down and getting married. I do not have any statistics on the subject but I would like to assume that the sort of woman who waits to find a potential partner until her late twenties is quite possibly busy improving other aspects of her life. Perhaps this woman attended graduate school, perhaps she spent her 20’s traveling or volunteering. By blaming the Pill and other methods of contraception as the cause of a “prolonged singles scene,” Allen is vastly underestimating the single woman. If a woman takes the Pill, she is not doing so to avoid settling down. It could be for any number of reasons. Here it seems that Allen is measuring a woman’s value by the number of eggs she has left – what about accomplishments that would otherwise go unfulfilled if she had simply settled for the first man who came along?

A silly claim Allen makes is that “beta” men are those  suffering in today’s dating scene:

it is actually beta men who are the greatest victims of the current mating chaos: the ones who work hard, act nice, and find themselves searching in vain for potential wives and girlfriends among the hordes of young women besotted by alphas.

In other words, these beta men, whom one can presume are beta either due to a lack of traditional good looks or a lack of a college degree, are suffering because of feminism! God forbid that a woman go off and get a college education! What about the beer-bellied, couch-ridden men of America? Someone help these men!

Worst of all is Allen’s insistence that a woman generally loses her desirability  by the age of 28. When a woman reaches this magical number while still single, she is forced to settle for a dreaded “beta”. So ladies, if you have a college degree and you’re headed toward 28, be prepared to spend the rest of your days a sad and lonely specimen, a dusty relic of “hookup culture”.

Stuart Cobb: The Biggest Idiot I Know (At Least for Today)

21 Jan

I attended high school with the author of  a horrendously written “article” that is circulating the internet as an example of  the worst in college male misogynistic tendencies.  Stuart Cobb, a fool who lives up to the idiocy of being named  Stuart and born after 1954, wrote an entry for his recurring column (“Fancy That”) titled: “Seven women you meet at DU.”  I should preface my ribbing of Stuart’s awful work with the interesting coincidence that only two weeks before this piece found its way on one of my favorite blogs, Jezebel, that I had the displeasure of encountering Cobb at a friend’s house.

As a discussion emerged, we somehow landed on the topic of debutante balls. Stuart is an admitted guzzler of all things imbued with alcohol, and a womanizer who claims that he now has a girlfriend. I pity that poor girl, if she exists. I questioned Mr. Cobb on whether debutante balls are necessary in today’s world. His response: “I don’t know. You get free alcohol.”  I further pressed Cobb on how the female candidates are chosen for our area’s debutante balls.  Response: ‘Well, you know, they all come from families that have contributed a lot to the community. Mostly the Fine Arts Center.”  This was a terrible answer.  Multi-million dollar donations sustain the Fine Arts Center, and if these families wish to contribute to something worthwhile, perhaps they should look to give money to the homeless shelters around town and somehow contribute to the elimination of the growing tent cities that pepper the streets surrounding said Fine Arts Center. I made a final suggestion to Stuart: “Perhaps they should give their money to battered women.” Stuart’s response: “Whatever. I like the free booze and watching girls pass out when their dresses are too tight.”

That is a portrait of Stuart Cobb, the same author of an “opinion” piece entitled “Seven women you meet at DU.”  Stuart, without giving him any credit, made a shortlist of  stereotypes of college women. It is not the wording of Stuart’s “writing” that is offensive; it is the simple audacity that the author of such bullshit could believe that he is being completely original, when this is done over and over again (See: Tucker Max). Stuart Cobb is a completely self-assured dipshit. He knows that he’s a jerk, and he just doesn’t care.

On Saturday, The Clarion published a completely u letter of apology from Stuart.  This can only be a last-ditch effort for Stuart to somehow salvage a writing career from the damage he has caused – perhaps Stu will compile the auto sale listings for a third-tier paper in the midwest.  In this letter, Stuart claims that his plan all along was to write a similar list of the “Seven men you meet at DU.” I do not believe this for a damn milli-vanilli second. Stuart has a history of misogynistic writing under his belt – a trend that began when he wrote for the Cheyenne Mountain High School Chieftain.  Why would a young man so full of himself even dare to claim such an asinine intention? Stuart is glib and ignorant of the impact that words can have.

Only two days ago, Stuart issued another letter of apology that contained a resignation from his post as an opinion columnist for The Clarion.  Stuart is a senior.  He’s already had over three years to fill the student newspaper with his trash writing.  It hardly matters that he will no longer write during his last semester at DU.  It does matter, however, if Stuart miraculously stumbles upon a position at a legitimate journalistic source. Editors of the free world – do not hire Stuart Cobb. Not only is his writing sub par, but he will also offend women and men alike. There is one winner in this situation: Tucker Max has found a new bro.