it gets better fellow babies:
But I Am Not Androgynous.
Progressive she-person Silpa Kovvali insists that gendered pronouns are an “outdated linguistic tic” and must be abolished:
Readers may wish to think back to any recent discussion involving spouses, siblings, parents or children – anyone you know well – and then try repeating that conversation stripped of gender identifiers. Said out loud by actual people, about people we know, gender-neutral language tends to sound contrived and its connotations are unlikely to be flattering. And then imagine the effect of this modish neutering on popular culture - say, the quasi-pornographic romance novel: “They looked at them lustfully and reached for their buttons.” It would, I fear, be hard to keep track of the various
theys involved. And a great literary genre would be rendered incomprehensible. And much as I hate to be a bother,
my “preferred pronouns” are masculine. Like almost all human beings, I am not alienated from my sex in psychologically hazardous ways. I am not of indeterminate gender. I am not a
they.
High Maintenance.
Tiffanie Drayton wants the world to know that her freeloading is political and not at all opportunist:
Yes, relying on a man to pay the bill, every time, is proof of Ms Drayton’s emancipation and empowerment as a thinking, hardworking, autonomous black woman. It’s how she fights for the right to claim her
independence. It’s also reparation for collective male sin. You see, by paying for everything she wants, whenever she wants it, your money is simply being “returned to the women from which [sic] it was displaced in the very first place.” And so the proudly feminist author “completely rejects the premise” that “I have to pay my own way.”
There’s plenty more to poke at in the
greatest hits. And tickling the tip jar is what keeps this place afloat.