The minute I started reading Charlotte Allens’ screed against women, the first thought bubbled up from the glaze of “Is this a joke?” was: “When is she going to mention romance novels?”
Ah! There it is. No virulent diatribe against the relative silliness of women would be complete without railing against those of us who betray the power of our brain cells by reading “those books,” i.e. romance. I have to admit, I am so spoiled by the time I spend at this site and others about romance that I forget at times how much romance novels are sneered at and slapped down, often by other women. And it is far more often women who give me shit about my reading material than men.
Megan and Moe flay this article into itty bitty pieces bit by bit at Jezebel, and I nearly snorted beverage up my nostrils at their response.
Personally, I’ve learned quite a few things from Allen’s rather large trainwreck of an article – and after that much ranting I hope she’s feeling much better. Noteably: should I ever wish to go out on a limb with an outrageous opinion, name dropping every fifth word does little to strengthen an argument.
Also, mocking people with Morgellon’s disease is… well, shitful, and especially extra double cheese comical considering that the Washington Post just published an article about a month ago profiling the disorder, interviewing male and female sufferers. As someone who suffered hives for 2 years without diagnosis (but a shitload of steroids in the interim) I say, may Allen never suffer from a frustrating, idiopathic illness that is marked by itching.
But most of all, as Candy so eloquently said a while back, why must people continually harsh on the moral fiber of those whose taste we question?
After talking with Hubby about Allen’s article, I said, “You know what burns my toast? She craps all over what she considers the bad taste of other women, and make sweeping judgments about the relative intellect and quality of women who do things she doesn’t like, when there are plenty of doofy things men do that are, in the long run, equally harmless and not at all indicative of their quality as a gender.”
For every woman that watches and enjoys “Grey’s Anatomy,” there are plenty of men who do some really daffy things, and I’m not lining up for the opportunity to call them “dim.”
Hubby said, “Like continuing to play contact sports after their bodies are too old for it?”
Yes! That. Professional and otherwise.
Like, managing the minutiae of a nonexistent sports team? I’ve got no room to mock that one; my fantasy baseball draft is in a few weeks.
Men’s taste in television? Aside from the number of dudes I know who watch Grey’s Anatomy, there’s plenty to examine. From the sample of the various men who hijack the clicker in my house, from Hubby to his father to our houseguests for aforementioned baseball draft, men’s taste in television can be varied, bizarre, and often features gratuitous breasts.
Or, as Jane just pointed out, their taste in tv is just plain inexplicable: see “The existence and popularity of Jackass.”
And what about the compulsion to watch the end of a game just because it’s on tv, sometimes even a game that was actually played sixteen years prior? Thank you Classic Sports for that oddity. (Note: please don’t show game 7 of the 1992 NLCS, people at Classic Sports. It makes Hubby beyond upset.)
Additionally, as Jane pointed out to me as we discussed the article, men seem to believe that yelling at the TV actually impacts how the game turns out. What is with that?
Some guy stereotypes are rooted in tiny fragments of truth: how many of us know a man, as Jane said, who steadfastly refuses “to ask for directions because being lost is smarter than knowing where to go?” *raises hand* My father in law owns, like, six different GPS units because he hates asking actual humans for directions.
How about owning two distinct levels of clothing: work and not work?
But in all seriousness, what boggled my mind most of all was Allen’s directive that we women should “relax [and] enjoy the innate abilities most of us possess and revel in the things most important to life at which nearly all of us excel.”
Things, I might add, that men are ridiculed as dim and weak for attempting to do alongside women: “tenderness toward children… and the weak and the ability to make a house a home.”
How many times do you see positive fatherhood in popular culture? Stereotypically, men are bumbling fathers, distant fathers, cold fathers, or nonexistent fathers. Yet the real men I see everyday in my home and in the homes of my friends and acquaintances are possessing of those same qualities Allen identifies as “innate” to women.
I’ll take the men I know, silly and rooting for mythical sports teams, and the Grey’s watching women that drive Allen so far down the lane of Batshit any day over any more articles like this one.
Man am I ever glad Allen is not part of the village that’s supposed to help me raise my children.