My Feminist Soapbox

[This is a very silly post. You have been warned]

I’ve gotten an unusually high number of visitors on my blog in the past two weeks. Not coincidentally, I’ve also gotten my first “you are the worst person in the world” comments.

I am, of course, terribly excited about this new development. Whoo! I have enough traffic that I’ve got vehement disagreement!

They may even be trolls. It’s hard to tell.

But still! Troll-like comments. Oh, I am marvelously excited about this!

EXCITED!

Buried beneath the comments about how “feminists are all misandronists” (does anyone know what a misandronist is, out of curiosity? Right now, I’m going for a cross between a misandrist and an android) and the comments telling me how offensive I was, and the ones explaining that I was everything that was wrong with the world…

… there was actually a point I thought was worth addressing, from the Very Long Comment Left by a Very Concerned Commentator:

“So for the love of the gods, get off your soap boxes and relax. Maybe have a bit of fun for a change.”

Now, I have to admit, I was very confused by this… suggestion. I mean, I appreciate the sentiment, don’t get me wrong! It’s nice to know that the Very Concerned Commentator, despite thinking that I’m a horrible person, does want me to have fun.

My reaction, however, wasn’t so much: “Oh, god! They’re right! I must immediately stop blogging and go to an amusement park instead!”

It was more along the lines of: “But…I am having fun.”

Yes. Seriously. I know you’re skeptical. But I am having fun. Not just low-level fun either.  I’m talking Lord of the Rings Marathon fun. Giant ice cream-party-fun. Playing with a kitten fun. Learning to do a handstand fun. Digging a space-time tunnel to Shakespearian England fun.

Serious. Fun.

I’m talking Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape dancing levels of fun.

Hey, I get it. Maybe writing giant 5000-word-rants isn’t your thing. And that’s fine. Some people toilet-paper houses. Some people  climb Mount Everest without bottled oxygen. Some people parachute out of airplanes. Some people belly-dance. Some people dip their fries in milkshake. Some people watch the Star Wars prequels (*shudder*). To quote the inestimable Hoban Washburne:

And some people – me – write self-righteous feminist analyses of pop-culture. Because that’s my idea of fun. Bizarre, I know, but I love deconstructing stuff. I love ranting. I love writing. Fuck, I would do this for free…

… and in point of fact, I do. (unless someone is paying me without my knowledge, which seems unlikely)

So I appreciate your concern, my dear past-and-future commentators. But rest assured that it’s fine. I am having fun.

Which leads me to point #2 of My Dearest Very Concerned Commentator’s Concern. They suggested – several times – that I should get off my soapbox.

I’m going to assume that My Dearest Very Concerned Commentator was not, in fact, referring to an actual soapbox, but was referring to my blog. Mostly because I don’t own a soapbox, and the Very Concerned Commentator has no way of knowing whether or not I own a soapbox, and sometimes people use metaphors… and yeah.

The soapbox is probably a metaphor for the blog. Right.

Again, this is interesting advice. But as we’ve seen, I actually enjoy writing this blog, so not writing it would mean having less fun, which directly contradicts their prior advice to have MORE fun –

So in spite of my deep gratitude and appreciation for My Dearest Very Concerned Commentator’s advice… I did not follow their instructions.

Wait! Wait! Before you spill all your tea in shock! Let me explain!

Ahem.

Very Concerned Commentator is right. This blog is my soapbox.

Which means I get to talk about whatever I want on it.

Kittens! Puppies! Feminist rants! American Idol! Science Fiction! More kittens! Stupid jokes! Weird GIFS! EVEN MORE KITTENS! FEMINIST KITTENS!

Whatever I want.

Now, you may disagree with what I write. That’s perfectly fine. You may think what I care about is trivial. That’s also perfectly fine. You may argue with what I write. Again: perfectly fine.

You can even get your own soapbox/blog and talk about what you want on it. You can talk about how wrong I am for hours and hours and hours and hours. Have fun (and I don’t mean that sarcastically)!

Fun! WHEEEEEEE!

Hell, you don’t even have to read me! Unlike a real soapbox, where you’re stuck listening to whatever dolt is ranting on the public square, no one is forcing you to read this blog. Absolutely no one. If you don’t want to read my rants… don’t.

But you cannot tell me to get off my soapbox.

Because I built it and I will stay on it as long as I damn please.

See! There’s my soapbox! My feminist soapbox. Isn’t it awesome? It isn’t exactly a soapbox – I’m pretty sure it used to contain books, not soap – but it’s pretty close. And the colors are shiny.

…Yes. Yes, I did literally build a soapbox to stand on. Or sit on.

Yes. Yes, in fact, I did take that comment way too far. WAAAAAAY too far.

Even though playing with markers was pretty fun.

[By Jove, I love the smell of sharpie in the morning. Smells like… gender equality.]

I Have A Soapbox and I Know How To Use It

Let’s recap, shall we?

Yes, everyone, this blog is my soapbox. Yes, everyone, I am having fun on my blog/soapbox.

No, you cannot tell me to get off my soapbox. Not unless you want me to take your comment waaaaaaaay too literally and spend an hour-and-a-half building an actual soapbox.

*sigh*

I know everyone was deeply concerned about these questions. Now that they have been answered, feel free to go about your normal business!

Problem solved!

Feminist Batwoman – I mean, Culturally Disoriented – out.

*Any resemblance between Culturally Disoriented and the masked vigilante and Protector of Gender Equality known as the Feminist Batwoman is purely coincidental. Even though they’re wearing the same mask. And they’re never in the same place at the same time.

It’s. A. Coincidence. They have absolutely nothing to do with one another. Like Bruce Wayne and Batman.

**Also, if anyone knows what a misandronist is… page me.

*** If you would like to build your own feminist soapbox (or anti-racist/LGBT/trans-issues/star wars/whatever soapbox), please do! But remember that actual cardboard boxes are quite flimsy, and probably won’t support your weight. My cat fell through the box when she jumped on it. Cardboard = not the best idea.

Why does mine work? I propped it up with a giant stack of books underneath.

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