“Women are not only subject to a constant and exhausting and sometimes humiliating scrutiny—they are also belittled for caring about their beauty, mocked for seeking to enhance or to hold onto their good looks, while men are just, well, being men.”
– Adele Waldman, New Yorker“The incident served to underline the minefield that is modern feminism, which remains as divided today as in its 1970s hayday.”
– Susie Mesure on ‘Spare Rib’, Guardian“Why are we supposed to get Brazilians? Should we use Botox? Do men secretly hate us? And why does everyone ask you when you’re going to have a baby? Part memoir, part rant, Caitlin answers the questions that every modern woman is asking.”
– From Caitlin Moran’s book description, How To Be A Woman“Whoever around you led you to believe that posing half naked with a can of AriZona Iced Tea is in any way “cool” is spot on. . . Nothing but sales will come in the long run from you holding one of our cans of delicious AriZona Iced Tea like a big, hard cock.”
– Jim Sterch, Marketing, AriZona Iced Tea (Funny or Die)
HOW SHOULD A WOMAN BE. Should she be quiet, and only respond when addressed? Or is she more exciting, more adorable if chatty? And women talk a lot anyway, too much, don’t they? They say what they feel because, hormones, and emotions, and lack of control. But of Control, that, women should possess – when it comes to sex especially, or sticking out their tongues, and to never scratch their crotch or dance too much. Dancing is good sometimes, especially if they’re drunk, and the man is enticed, but only if they’re a couple. Otherwise, she will be a fool, remembering her dance on the table the next day to utter dismay of her fellow women and of course, the men who once liked her and didn’t get in. They would have continued their pursuit, even if she was taken, but the act of losing control, is never a good sign. Not for a good woman, a good wife (only for one night). And one nights are ok if only with him, just him, nobody else before him. How many people have you had? Better say nothing at all. Because one is not even, zero is freaky, ten is pushing it, twenty is terrible, thirty—you are too thirsty, you whore. So how should a woman be?
Should she wear her heels to work, despite her back pain, maybe it will give her authority, since flat shoes make her childish. But high heels are slutty, and flats are classy. And what if she’s short, short is ok but never too short. That’s a little nymphic. But don’t be too tall, oh no, because shorter men will be disappointed. Who wears the pants? The tallest, the strongest, the smartest: men. And how about her face, her hair, her eyebrows, her nails? Will she have time to make them all perfect? But if she is too perfect, then she’s self-obsessed and superficial. If she isn’t, is she then a hippy? Surely not a hipster, even hipsters do their nails now. Perhaps she is a bit older, she has time and the money to do her hair. So is she looking to flirt, with her colleagues or with her boss? And what if she works from home. Should she work in overalls or a silk dress, for her husband’s motivation to love her, keep her, fuck her. Why not just naked. But is she too free spirited then, naked? And is she inviting you for sex, all the time, if naked. How could she dress sexy and be sexy and not want sex?! And if she isn’t, that’s too bad. Women are born to be sexy, they are the bearers of children who exit the body through their vaginas. And boobs are for an infant’s survival—and for grown men. And if you are sexy which means you want sex does that ever leave time to be intelligible; to think, or to study something closely as to become an expert. If you manage to become an expert, somehow as a woman, are you then a feminist? A man-hating feminist? If you are a feminist and you wear lipstick, are you an oxymoron, because tainted lips are only to be kissed by a man? And what about lesbians—oh well, let’s just stick to the norm.
How should a woman be? I mentioned the husband, but what if she is single? Should a woman ever not be married? But a marriage too soon is a marriage of compliance, of impulse. A woman should marry when she is mature and the right man wants her—and she should wait for a proposal. But times have changed and women now speak their minds, more than ever (ref: they talk too much). And so, a woman should tell her man, or to-be man, how she feels. She should also remind him about his greatness, or could be, and help him become—but a woman should never tell her man how he should be. Because men do not like complaints. They do not like the woman to wish for things she doesn’t have, because either she already has them or never ought to anyway. Like shoes, because that’s what women like, right? Because women like shoes more than life. And if she doesn’t and if she is not fashionable is she automatically smart? How smart can a woman be? She can multitask, that’s biology, but philosophy, can she understand it properly, deeply? And is she then again a feminist (what is that anyway) and can she ever be a mother? Is a woman a real woman if she is not a mother? Is a mother a real woman if she misses her child’s first day of school? Is that mother a good wife, is a good wife a good woman? They will tell you. Somebody is always telling you…
STOP.
I’m sure there are books with guidelines for how men should be. Thank you, but burn them—the books I mean. Miley Cyrus’ tongue is getting medically diagnosed and “she seems stressed and hungry.” Sinead O’Conner, Annie Lennox, Arizona Iced Tea (I’m pretty ok with you, Amanda Palmer), stop it. Hide your kids if you have to, close your eyes, boycott her songs. Stop analyzing the “state of women today” through a bad music video. This is not the issue here. But rather: a person whose entire identity has been to entertain, is giving you what you (we) have asked for, and what she knows best. The rest is just the hyper sexualized politics of capitalism, of celebrity and visual identity – nothing deeper, nothing significant, none of your concern. Miley is an idiot, but she’s no less naked than Brooke Candy, or Riri. What’s-his-name humps everything that moves. What’s-his-name sings about whores. The whole thing is messy, I don’t know, I probably won’t have kids. But stop, telling WOMEN, how to, be.
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