Tuesday, September 11, 2012

This week in Feminist WTF's

Don't let my delayed reaction dilute the importance of what I can promise is one of few, if not the only political post I will share here. I missed the RNC showcase deliberately and only recently chose to watch (tolerable parts of it) after hearing the Obama's inspiring words. Now, I'm not even going to be catty and dissect the entire ramble, I did that in the privacy of my own home thankyouverymuch, but I will say this about Ann's, since I got that far.

First off, if you have been in a marriage for forty-something years, you should probably be referring to your mate as a Man, not a boy. I couldn't help but cringe in acknowledgement that indeed, The Rommitator is definitely in no way.shape.form a Man, but even my boyfriend noticed how often she encouraged us all to see him as little beyond a bratty rich kid.

Her attempt at humanizing their history by mentioning the decor of their first apartment and eating tuna and pasta, which in a strange moment of synchronicity I was eating while watching it (swear to god) only felt like I was being publicly patronized along with the majority of us listeners who didn't marry into a multi-million dollar deal.
Besides her gross justification of sexism, this mention of "poverty" was especially unnerving for me and ended my attempt at being a fair voter by listening to her speech in its entirely.

I can't respect someone who has top notch medical care and access to unlimited everything, someone who actually sends horses to the Olympics for fun (?!) Someone who wears a thousand dollar tee shirt to an interview; I can't trust that this kind of person knows anything about the soul of our nation, in the midst of a deep financial deficit and impending oil crisis (which has already peaked, by the way.)

What I can respect is calling it for what it is: a Class election where the boy with the biggest bribes (in my elementary experience, lollipops) gets the most votes. So, pick a side Romney's. Poor isn't something you chose to be when it convenient, any working class middle of the road citizen knows its no privilege. But for many of us, it's a starting point that is filled with our unique stories of failure and triumph. You may be able to buy what you want, but that shit, our shit, is not for sale.

1 comment:

  1. You glossed over the most important part, as if it was nothing: The tuna and pasta connection. What could it possibly mean? Clearly, you were given a sign from a higher power. If I were you, I would be on a tuna casserole diet until this thing gets figured out.
    I'm just saying.