Feminine is not anti-feminist

This reminds me of the time a purported “feminist” said on TV that wearing dresses (ie. being feminine) made her feel weak.  That doesn’t seem very empowering to me.

Joan Walsh is apparently very concerned that Ivanka Trump wore a dress with a bow on it at a meeting where she represented her father.  From the interview:

“Right. With big bows on her sleeve. I mean, I don’t mean to sound sexist — it can be dangerous to comment on what women wear — but the fact that she sat in for her father in a dress that was so incredibly ornamental was such a contradiction in terms,” Walsh said. “And I think that what we see is that in patriarchal, authoritarian societies, daughters have great value — they are property. And the message that she is sending about her own value, about her place in the White House, and about the place of women in this administration, I think, are really frightening.”

Apparently walking around half-nude is more acceptable in some political circles than wearing bows on your sleeve at a high-powered meeting.

This is further proof of the haphhazardness of modern feminism.  We shouldn’t comment on what a women wears, unless that woman is a conservative.  Appreciating the female form is objectification, but Beyonce spreading her legs on the MTV VMA stage is female empowerment.  (I love Bey.  Just making a point.)  Openness and inclusiveness means zero tolerance to dissent.  The only guiding principle I see to a lot of this is that feminism is whatever the moral majority allows it to be.

But my biggest lament is that being feminine is now considered anti-feminist.  Surely celebrating women’s unique characteristics does not denegrate them—nor can those differences, often attributable to science, be denied.  Women are more intuitive, have better communication skills, choose to be in professions that offer more flexibility and safety in the work place (leading to differences in pay), look for different things than men in relationships.  Acknowledging these differences, and celebrating them through open nods to femininity (ie. a bow), is not an insult to women—it is a celebration of womanhood.

Perhaps this article says it best:

“The power in being women is precisely that we are not men. …When a woman goes into the boardroom (or takes a seat at the G20 summit) her advantages don’t lie in matching manly quality for manly quality. It is the ‘girlie stuff’ that not only sets a woman apart from her male counterparts, but elevates her.”

 

 

 

Happy belated Fourth of July

Sorry, I was busy celebrating (using Uber, booking AirBnB, 3d printing, eating from a food truck, and shooting off fireworks with no permit! #liberty)

But if you, like me, are still basking in the liberty afterglow, here’s a pic of some lovely Fourth of July flowers I received as a gift and a post-Fourth of July reading list so the fun doesn’t have to stop.

Flowers

Nick Gillespie, “What Federick Douglass Teaches Us about July 4th and American Exceptionalism” (and here’s a video of James Earl Jones reading Frederick Douglass’ speech).

A certain rap you may have heard about a little known Founding Father.

Two PLF attorneys on why property rights are the jam.

Glenn Reynolds review of Randy Barnett’s Our Republican Constitution.

And something that always cheers me up: Tim Sandefur, “Did I ever tell you how lucky we are?”

One more pretty thing this Sixth of July… someone once told me books should never be arranged according to color, but c’mon…

Book Flag

“With freedom, books, flowers, and the moon, who could not be happy?”

Fw

 

 

 

 

On a positive note…

Beyond my usual refrains about just how awesome the world is, and getting better…

(we may soon be able to print artificial organs with 3d printers…just wrap your mind around that)

I recently stumbled across these two poems by Mary Oliver:

The Summer Day

Who made the world?

Who made the swan and the black bear?

Who made the grasshopper?

This grasshopper, I mean-

the one who has flung herself out of the grass,

the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,

who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down-

who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.

Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.

Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.

I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.

I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down

into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,

how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,

which is what I have been doing all day.

Tell me, what else should I have done?

Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?

Tell me, what is it you plan to do

with your one wild and precious life?

How beautiful.  What a gorgeous way of saying that true prayer, meditation, peace of mind, and happiness, come in the form of simply appreciating all of the small beautiful things and their smaller, more beautiful, details here on earth.  What we have here, in our terrestrial habitat, is magic.  And what a waste any other form of prayer would be, because “everything die[s] at last, and too soon”—regardless of your most ardent prayers otherwise.  Our time here is better spent appreciating the millions of tiny beautiful miracles that we have, acting on our own volition.

Wild Geese

You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees

For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body

love what it loves.

Tell me about your despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.

Meanwhile the world goes on.

Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain

are moving across the landscapes,

over the prairies and the deep trees,

the mountains and the rivers.

Meanwhile the wildgeese, high in the clean blue air,

are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination,

calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting —

over and over announcing your place

in the family of things.

Thinking about how big and beautiful and grand the world is always helps put things in perspective, and makes me consider what I want to make of my life, what’s significant, what’s not, and what code is worth living by.

::Here Comes the Sun begins to play…::