Ten Little Chances to be Free

I have cringe-inducing fucktons of homework due in the next week, and yet somehow I ended up killing three hours on Wikisource reading A Vindication of the Rights of Woman. Or parts of it. Wiki doesn't have all of it, and I would probably do better with a paper copy anyway--the tl;dr effect kicks in when it's words on a screen.

At any rate, I can't really bring myself to feel guilty, because it's much better brain food than anything I have for homework. I can't count how many times I had to stop myself from yelling "Oh my god yes EXACTLY" aloud. And it's kind of sad how relevant it still is. Yes, the legal goals of the women's rights movement have succeeded beyond anyone's wildest dreams, but until a philosophical change has been brought about, Mary Wollstonecraft will still be insisting from beyond the grave: women do not exist solely for men's enjoyment. We do not have a duty to be beautiful and charming and pleasing to men; we have not failed in some respect if we're not attractive; loving women because they are beautiful and captivating is not the same as respecting them; and to go one further, loving a woman just for the artful, arduous beauty demanded of her by society is akin to complimenting a slave on his shackles. "Getting a man" is not only not the most laudable possible goal in our lives, it's if anything the most paltry of accomplishments.

And for god's sake, beauty is not a prerequisite for respect. If you can kick ass and take names, who cares whether or not you can do it without smudging your lipstick?