There was a time, or so I’m told, when “feminism” was about equality for women. Women had been treated as second-class citizens in many well-documented ways, and it was not right.
No need to rehash all the ways in which they weren’t treated fairly, they’re well documented. But somewhere along the way they won, if not every battle, at least the war.
In my lifetime, women have been able to do whatever they want and go as far as their ambition and talent will take them. But, like the union and civil rights movements, winning was the biggest threat to the movement’s leaders’ existence.
So, rather than accept victory, they continued to fight for the sake of fighting and, to no small degree, the money and power that comes along with instilling victim status on people they claim to want to help. By not accepting victory, they have become the problem, not the solution.
On Sunday night, after watching the last episode of True Blood (which was awful) and the season finale of The Last Ship (which was great), I watched the MTV Video Music Awards. And, as it turns out, I learned the new definition of “Feminist.”
Silly me for not realizing the word needed a new definition, but apparently it did. What used to be a fight for equality is now a fight to wear as little as possible and dry-hump everything in sight. What was once decried as sexist in music videos – the objectification of women – is now celebrated as the essence of feminism. I’m sure all those ‘80s hair bands are waiting by their phone for their National Organization of Women award for being heroes for women’s rights.
But before Warrant or Mötley Crüe answer those calls, let us look at what started all this. Beyoncé, the current queen pop music (she can sing, but her actual music is about 90 percent garbage to me since I prefer instruments) gave a 20-minute
commercial medley from her latest album at the end of the show. She was surrounded by attractive women who were barely dressed and gyrating their butts on stage to the point that audience members were sent scrambling for dollar bills. Little did I realize that behind those, er, well, behinds, I was witnessing true feminism. Or so I’m told.
After the performance, the blogger SooperMexican tweeted a picture of Beyoncé standing in front of the word “FEMINIST” juxtaposed with a picture of her and 9 dancer’s butts. I retweeted it, adding the comment, “Silly me, I thought Feminism would involve more clothes.”