A friend of mine was recently informed that the most interesting thing about her was she wasn’t really a feminist. The revelation came as somewhat of a surprise to her, given she’s spent the past 15 years engaged in feminist writing and other general boner killing activities. Could the words of this wise young scamp be true? We did a checklist. She had been lately married. And rather than sporting a buzz cut and tattoo screaming PISS OFF MALE OPPRESSORS spelled across her unshackled bosom, she has long locks and a modern fondness for brassieres.
Perhaps our young friend was right. Perhaps all this time she had actually been a real woman, and not one of those hideous lizard creatures that hide in the shadowy corners of your otherwise reptile free home shouting RAPIST! every time an unsuspecting penis wielder wanders too closely by.
Lest you be labouring under the false assumption of your own feminist identity but lack the helpful words of a negging mansplainer to set you straight, I’ve put together a little checklist to guide you. It is by no means conclusive - after all, I’m not a man, so how would I know what constitutes real feminism?
If you find yourself answering in the affirmative to at least just over 50% of these (you might not know what that looks like, because women are also bad at visualising mathematical equations but just remember - it’s round about the world’s population of woman humans) then CONGRATULATIONS! You’re not a feminist after all!
1. Do dogs like you?
Feminists are a bit like ghosts in the sense that they wreak havoc on unsuspecting families and leave a trail of destruction in their work. Also, they sometimes smell like rotting meat. They’re not interested in sharing, only taking all the spoils for themselves which is why they’ll do everything they can to terrify you with their foul odours and banshee screeching until you’re eventually forced to give up what’s rightfully yours. If feminists are the poltergeists of the social world, it stands to reason that animals wouldn’t be able to go within a 5 metre radius of them without baring their teeth, barking incessantly and then making themselves dizzy by walking in a circle until they fall down. But if dogs are more likely to come bounding up to you with a slobbery ball and an excited grin on their face, then the chances are pretty high that you’re not really a feminist.
2. Have you found a man to call you boo?
It is a truth universally acknowledged that the quickest way to cure a woman of her loud mouthed opinions about ‘equality’ is via the swift application of a jolly rogering. And in case you’re confused by what that means, I am referring to heteronormative sexual intercourse with a man who may or may not have begun his courtship with the mating call of, ‘Ha LOL you fat bitch, you just need a good hard one up ya’. Some women are unable to find a man, and so they become Lesbian to shield them from the pain of loneliness. As all feminist are also lonely, it stands to reason that all feminists are Lesbian. If, however, you have known a man biblically - and he survived - then you can relax! You have been anointed by the royal compliment of a knight handing you his jousting stick, and it didn’t splinter on entry. Proof positive that you aren’t a feminist.
3. What lies over there, in that shadowy bit?
Speaking of jousting, take a look between your legs. Is there an acrid wasteland whose only signs of life appear to be the emaciated vultures circling what might have once been a lush oasis but now more closely resembles that man’s face at the end of Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, or does it more closely resemble an average set of human genitalia? If the latter, you can put your confusion to bed. Feminists have to sign over their undercarriages to the coven when they sign up. From there, who knows what happens to them…but I’ve heard tell that they might be being used to clone more feminists.
4. I’m melting
A simple test to determine if you are in fact a Real Feminist and not just one of those pretend ones is to have a friend fill a bowl with cold water and place it in a neutral area. Say, on a kitchen table or perhaps in the hallway. Walk past the bowl and observe its contents. Has it started to boil? If no, I’m pleased to inform you that you aren’t a feminist.
5. Slather some Nivea on those dry patches
Since deciding to become a feminist, have you noticed your body begin to change at all? In place of skin, are you beginning to develop scales or a rough, leathery hide? Has your tongue begun to split and fork, and can you now extend it long enough to eat insects or small children from 20 feet away? Can you slither up walls or change colour to disguise yourself from your natural predator, the Logical Human Man? Instead of shedding the lining of your uterus once a month, do you now shed your skin and bury it in ground where flowers now refuse to grow? Is your blood fluorescent green? No? Not a feminist.
In fact, if all of this sounds harebrained to you, you can breath a big sigh of relief. While you may rush to claim the label ‘feminist’ for yourself, that unquantifiable rage you feel when you consider the inequalities in the world and the casual sexism that beats at the heart of it all is more than likely just a touch of indigestion.
And even though it would actually be extremely interesting to be the kind of powerful sorceress that can extinguish the light of the night’s stars just by looking at them, it’s definitely not as interesting as having your entire political identity erased by someone who thinks they know better just because you don’t conform to the retro stereotypes they find comfort in. In the meantime, have a Bex and a lie down sweetheart - you’ll feel better in the morning, and all the feminist monsters will have drifted back into the land of nightmares.