​DAMN YOU, PATRIARCHY!

Last Wednesday, something wonderful happened in the world of feminism. French Presidential candidate, Marine Le Pen, exercised her individual rights and refused to wear a symbol of imposed gender modesty.
Here’s the story; Le Pen was scheduled, as part of her three day visit to Lebanon, to meet with Sunni grand mufti, Sheikh Abdel-Latif Derian. At the entrance to the mufti’s headquarters, one of his peons helpfully insisted that Le Pen wear a head covering. She refused. Le Pen claims that she’d already told the mufti’s people the night before that she wouldn’t wear any head coverings.

Le Pen proved to be as good as her word. Later affirming that her refusal was based on her belief that the head covering is a “symbol of a woman’s submission.”

Below is footage of Marine Le Pen refusing to wear the headscarf and ending the meeting.

And didn’t the feminist world erupt with plaudits that streamed forth from so many notable feminist “writers”, including prominent Australians Clementine Ford and Jane Caro. What’s that? No plaudits were at all forthcoming from either Clem or dear old Cas, you say? The sound of crickets was almost deafening? In fairness, maybe Clem was busy trying to figure out which man or men to publicly despise next and Cas was probably still trying to console her daughter’s grief after giving birth, shock horror, to a male child.
I kid you not, Polly Dunning’s charming December 2016 SMH article where she pleasantly describes the joyfulness of feeling “sick at the thought of something male growing inside [her]” is a hoot. I swear I spat my coffee across the room, and I wasn’t even drinking coffee.

Notably, the source article has now been amended after she – rightly – copped some criticism. But the Internet never forgets, and Andrew Bolt did a great article on the original version.

Back on point. In the absence of any other feminist congratulations, allow us through the ‘Damn You, Patriarchy!’ series to extend our own heartfelt congratulations to Ms Le Pen for exercising the courage that so many Western feminists seem to lack. Good for you, Madam.

Which brings us to that bastion of feminist conscience, Sweden. You remember Sweden. The place where all the rapes aren’t happening and where the immigrants aren’t doing all the rapes that positively aren’t happening. And where, if you as a citizen dare to speak openly about all the rapes that certainly aren’t being done by the immigrants who most definitely aren’t doing them, you absolutely won’t be prosecuted for expressing evil thought crimes.

For quite some years now, Sweden’s lawmakers (none of whom, disappointingly, look at all like Frida from ABBA), have based their laws on feminist doctrine. I’m not entirely sure what that means, but maybe they wear pink pussy-hats painstakingly hand crafted by Madonna into work each morning.

However, rather hilariously, in 2016 Stockholm politicians implemented a policy of “gender equal” snow removal. Which meant that, based on reading of tea-leaves or some other witchcraft, it was decided that since more women walked to work and men tended to drive, more effort would go to clearing the pathways of snow first. What could possibly go wrong? Ambulances being unable to get to where they were needed was what. Now, I’ve been told Eskimos have 50 words to describe snow. I wonder how many words they have to describe moronic feminists?

Anyway, back to the Swedish parliament. These ladies, and “men”, have been rather bolshie over the years about feminism, toppling the Patriarchy, and spazzing out about Trump. Yet, somehow, their courage mysteriously seemed to fail them when they attended a function in Iran. Guess what their courageous women feminist members of parliament wore? You get no points for guessing, because this stuff writes itself.

Which leads me to my ultimate morsel of advice, which I direct to those lovely pussy-hat wearing Swedish parliamentarians: if you can’t look like Frida from ABBA, for the sake of your women and your culture, at least try to act like Marine Le Pen.

Hooroo.

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Author: Yogo

An angry little dog.

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