Having always considered myself a supporter of women’s rights and professed to my colleagues that that was, in fact, all I ever wrote about, I decided this evening to get up off my opinionated, yet lazy, backside and actively do something about it.
I went to a local Feminist Society for inspiration. Tell me what, oh feminist idols, can I do to support the cause? To make my opinions known and make a difference in the world? How does one respond to the humiliating grab of one’s arse by a chauvinistic, drunken male on a night out and make him see the light? I might sound derisive, but I genuinely looked to this group of people as the proverbial shining beacon of hope in a world of darkness. They, I told myself, are sure to have the solutions, the ideas and the guts to put them forward and make a change!
But, as when one goes to afternoon tea on the promise of giant scones with ladlefuls of jam and cream and receives what could almost fit inside a thimble, I was disappointed with the Feminist Society. Hardly any members proffered any insights on the matter in hand (EcoFeminism- not exactly my specialism but I thought I’d give it a chance) and those that did, timidly commented on the issue with that oh-so-irritating raised intonation at the end of their points. How are we supposed to take you seriously if you doubt your own ideas make any sense? Next the discussion turned into an apathetic and incoherent babble of points, some randomly and some fundamentally, related to the cause (uh hello! We know about binary opposition, go back to year 10), but none were genuinely, or even remotely, inspiring.
Not even the committee members seemed to know what they were talking about, with the ‘exciting’ plans coming up soon yet to be decided. What kind of a plan is that? Why bother to run such an organisation if you are not motivated enough to make something happen that promotes its interests?
Needless to say, unless anything mindboggling reaches me through the airwaves I will not be returning to the society. Instead, I will probably revert to passive-aggressiveness in the form of a cutting review (such as this, ha!) and cower silently in the shame of having done exactly the opposite of what I looked to the Feminist Society to achieve.