My rant on anti-feminism.

I’m not a feminist, and not because I don’t think men and women should be treated equally. I absolutely believe that. But feminists are annoying. In a recent NY Times article by Hayley Phelan, “Young Women Say No to Thongs,” – it is so absurd that an article like this would even be published, I mean really, who the fuck cares – a picture ran alongside the text with two very attractive twenty-something girls, one with her ass to the camera, showing off a pair of granny panties with the word “Feminist” in red bubbly letters.

http://www.nytimes.com/2015/05/28/fashion/young-women-say-no-to-thongs.html

The article goes on to point out the new revelation that young women, according to factual data and sales reporting, no longer buy thongs. So, if you wear granny panties, you’re a feminist – let’s do some high school analogies here – and if you don’t wear granny panties, you are not a feminist. In other words, if you wear thongs, you deserve to be less respected, make less money than a man, and forego any equality to a man had you chosen to wear your grandmother’s underwear. Thanks guys, or should I say gals. Don’t want to offend any ladies out there.

And then my friend at work, who works for Record Collector News, sent me this article that ran in the New Yorker. Written by legendary critic Anwen Crawford, “The World Needs Female Rock Critics” sounded like an excellent read until I got to the first sentence: “Don’t tell anyone, but I don’t own any albums by the Rolling Stones.”

http://www.newyorker.com/culture/cultural-comment/the-world-needs-female-rock-critics

I love the Rolling Stones. They are my ultimate favorite band ever, along with Bo Diddley, who, let’s be real, fundamentally inspired the Rolling Stones. I didn’t really want to read what Crawford had to say after that.

Ultimately, the article was too long for me, and kept bringing up redundant facts, like girls not being appreciated enough when they walk back stage as a journalist only to be mistaken as a cock-sucking groupie. Boring. I know this. I know that women, especially attractive women, are dismissed when it comes to the big man’s role. I know that because I’m a rock critic – I call myself a music journalist, but hey, everyone’s entitled to their own interpretation. And I know that every time I write something, especially about music, I constantly ask myself, “Will the reader know this is written by a female? Is it gender neutral? Will this appeal to dudes?”

I wrote something the other day for What Youth and after I sent it, had those same debilitating thoughts. I instantly regretted sending the piece off. But it was published, and with my name as the byline. And whether or not What Youth thought, “Hey this is really girly shit, we’re gonna put her name on it so they know a chick wrote it,” doesn’t really matter to me. Who cares.

So feminists out there, please calm down. The best way to be equal with a man is to shut up and just be equal.