Back when I was a cute li'l co-ed — cardigan buttoned up to the neck and ponytail a-flippin' — I signed up for an introductory woman's studies course at my university. It was a good class, but I couldn't help but notice how the more I learned from it, the more radical and frightening things started to get.

Of course, it started small. It always does — a quick braless errand to the convenience store across the street to my house, the occasional quoting of bell hooks — but it grew, OH, HOW IT GREW! Soon, learning about feminism and women's lib had poisoned my mind to the point was calling myself a feminist, questioning the patriarchy and actually valuing the work of women who came before me and fought hard so that I could experience some semblance of equality. I suddenly had the audacity to question the current social and political system and ask how — if at all — it served women.

The black, tangled web of feminism had overwhelmed me. I'd stay up late into the night, chanting, "Men, men, how do we destroy men?" In the morning, I'd stare at myself in the mirror and whisper, "You're the victim. Forever the victim, pretty lady" before snapping "DON'T YOU CALL ME PRETTY" at my own reflection. My hair fell out of my head, but grew rapidly under my arms and on my legs. You know it as typical feminist stuff. You know it because it also happened to you.


You might be thinking that you're a lost cause. That you'll never be happy again because you acknowledge rape culture and believe in reproductive freedom and the basic concept that women should be treated with the same fairness as men. That's what I thought, too, until I discovered WomenAgainstFeminism, a super cool movement on Twitter and Tumblr that has opened my eyes to a lot of misconceptions that I've been holding onto about feminism. I'd like to share those things with you now so that, together, we can recover from this ideology that has actually never done anything good for women*.


First of all, I'd like to apologize to this woman. I'm the one who has been harassing her husband. I stand by his parking space at the corporate office where he works. I do it while wearing a leather jacket, smoking a cigarette and cracking my knuckles. I even have a hair comb that looks like a switch blade and sometimes I whisper "job-haver" under my breath as he walks by. Once he heard me and said, "Excuse me? What did you say?" and I said "JOB-HAVER" again, this time a whole lot louder, and he just shrugged and replied, "Oh, alright" and walked into the office where he earns a dollar for every 77 cents a woman with the same job would get.


Awhile back, I was at dinner with my dad when he passed me a bread basket and I almost said "Thank you." It was so scary and I was so glad that I caught myself before I showed appreciation to a man and thereby ENCOURAGED RAPE CULTURE.

Turns out, I had nothing to worry about. It's actually okay to show appreciation to some of your male friends and family. My dad will be pleased that I can finally start being nice to him.


I thought it was having decent tastes that kept me from liking Fifty Shades of Grey, but it was actually feminism. Think of all the shitty books I'll be able to enjoy now that I know the truth.


Well, as a woman, I —- Oh, fuck.


I do, too. Actually, I like it the most when men only see me as a body and nothing else. Like when I try to say something serious or important to a man and he cuts me off with "AWOOOOOOGA" and then mimes honking a pair of boobs, I think it's really cool. I wish that was the only way we'd communicate.


When I'm dating someone, I'll sometimes make two sandwhiches and go to hand my dude one of them, but then, right as he's about to take it, I'll throw the sandwhich out the window and make him watch as a stray dog eats it instead. I don't even want to do it and both of us feel bad while it's happening because I have a sandwhich, the dog has a sandwhich and the man I'm with doesn't have a sandwhich. But I do it anyway. For feminism.

(Also, am I spelling "sandwhich" right? I can't tell.)


Ok.


You would think that WWIII will present bigger problems than some minor dress code issues, but that is what feminism wants you to think. Now we know and are ready for war.


I can actually think of a lot of instances where the actions of the feminist movement haven't resulted in more destruction and violence. In fact, I can't think of any actions of the feminist movement that have resulted in destruction and violence — WAIT, MY HANDS! THEY'RE COVERED IN BLOOD. WHERE DID ALL THIS BLOOD COME FROM??? IS IT MALE BLOOD? WHAT HAVE I DONE????

*Exceptions: everything good for women.