Yesterday’s post about cultural appropriation and the wonderful, adorable, truly touching tears of liberals after yesterday’s miraculous Super Bowl performance by President Trump’s favorite team inspired me to consider the extent to which another aspect of my identity, and thus my culture, is continuously, wantonly appropriated.
Femininity. The things that make me a woman. Not a female of the human species. A woman. Humans are not the only animal species to demonstrate neotony, or the retention of youthful characteristics into adulthood, but we do have some of the pronounced examples of it. Almost all dogs have floppy, soft ears as puppies. It makes them look perpetually puzzled, which helps when they whiz on the rug for the 47th time and pretend they have absolutely no idea what happened.
Adult dogs that require lots of human attention and affection tend to retain their floppy ears into adult hood. Fierce dogs with serious jobs aren’t served by looking cute and harmless, so they don’t express neotonous features. Women are intensely neotonous. We retain the soft skin of babies, and we are relatively hairless, compared to men. Excess body hair on women is considered universally unattractive, likely because it is such a masculine trait. Our voices are higher and softer than men’s, in general, and shrieky, screechy women are also considered universally unattractive. People hate the bitchy female voices of automated check-out cashiers. Women tend to be shorter in stature, have less muscle mass and a higher percentage of body fat. We’re softer and weaker than men. We are less intelligent than men, which probably helps a great deal when dealing with the very young, the very old and the sick, injured and wounded. Slight immaturity is an asset for more women.
Does this mean that there are no women who are tall, aggressive, wiry, deep-voiced pieces of gristle who bark and kick ass with the best of men? Okay, let me back-track. I am willing to assert, with 100% confidence that there are zero women who can kick ass with the best of men. With fair-to-middling men? Sure. No problem. But the best of men? Not a single chance in hell. My point, of course, is that I do not accept arguments from the tail end of the distribution. Exceptions and outliers prove the rule. They don’t disprove it. The rarity of women who are as strong as men proves the general weakness of women compared to men, or, by definition, they wouldn’t be rare.
Women are neotonous. Neotony is an endowment, not an accomplishment, for the most part. There are cosmetic things women can do to enhance the softness of their skin. Pure coconut oil. Trust me. And it tastes lovely! Women use cosmetics and clothing to indicate fertility and youthfulness. Fashion is largely designed to enhance women’s frailty, fragility and vulnerability. Stiletto heels anyone?
Feminists, who tend to experience the complications and psychological disturbances of higher than average in utero testosterone exposure, rabidly deny that there are any meaningful distinctions to be made between men and women, save for socialization. Science says otherwise. Liberal men, the clever little minxes, have discovered how to exploit their liberal lady counterparts using this feminist logic.
And quite frankly, I’m offended.
I have nothing against effeminate men. I have nothing against men who embrace traditionally feminine activities or domains. I adore men who invade female spaces and utterly conquer them while being unabashedly male. Get back in the kitchen? Okay, but how am I supposed to get this beast out of my way?
Liberal men have decided to take at grab at the best of both worlds and are cuddling up with neotonous femininity in what I can only describe as offensive cultural appropriation.
Look at this specimen, for example. Onsie jammies? Really?
Women in baby doll jammies are adorable.
Appropriating adorability in nightwear is offensive and wrong. How about this guy? You just know he got up in the morning, scrunched mousse in his hair, sat under a hair dryer, moisturized carefully and picked out his lip balm for the day. Ugh.
I’m sorry, but the appropriation of womanhood is strong with this one. I want to take off my jacket and spread it over a mud puddle to keep his delicate feet from experiencing the slightest discomfort. I want to challenge the barista who spills his pumpkin spice latte to a duel for her carelessness! Basic bitches deserve a knight in shining armor, too.
This is just wrong on so many levels. And what is up with this guy? Look at the eyebrows. On fleek! That’s some intense waxing and plucking. And doesn’t his skin look soft? Like, buttery smooth and soft. I wonder if he knows some facial creams contain skin lighteners? Because white supremacy or something. I don’t know.
What I do know is that primping and grooming and deliberately emphasizing features that indicate youthfulness and fertility and immaturity are the province of women, not men, and liberal men are appropriating my culture when they act or look like immature, childish dolts who spend far too much time man-bunning in front of a mirror and not enough time at the gun range.
Enough, I say! I don’t enjoy the chivalrous feelings these tammy-boys inspire. Why should I get up and surrender my seat just because he looks delicate and distraught? Why should I spend my money buying him a drink because he’s spent the day teetering around in skinny jeans for my pleasure? I didn’t ask him to do that! And please. Don’t even start with men in yoga pants.
Liberal men have no right to neotony. Biology has made neotony the special province of women and liberal men should respect our special status as women and refuse, on principle, to act like or look like women. If liberal boys need inspiration, I strongly recommend a trip to Helsinki. Finnish men. Are they not the epitome of manliness and masculinity? Le sigh.
Of course, it’s much easier to pull on jammies and slather on the cold cream than pick up an axe and turn a cord of wood into warmth. Or kiss a bear. Choose wisely, mates.
Niin makaa, kuin petaa.
Lots of love,