How To Live With A Revolutionary Without Losing Your Head, Or Co-opting His

336px-Hipster_trotsky

 

The Revolutionary has been following this column with ever increasing concern now. ‘What are you saying about me again? Please make sure the facts are accurate, you never know, we might recruit more people through your series’. Needless to say, the Rev has not understood the very concept of fiction (although sometimes I wish the content of my column was fiction), and needless to say, the Rev is delusional. I’m not recruiting anyone; I’m giving out hope to fellow people living with revolutionaries. We shall overcome.

The Rev has friends. Well, he has friends and he has comrades. See, they’re not the same. Friends are long term acquaintances the Rev met when he was still debating what his ideology of choice would be, at a time when he had elected his thought leader would be Zinedine Zidane. The Rev’s friends are usually bankers or real estate brokers or other nasty uber-capitalistic specie whose eyes glaze over whenever the Rev desperately tries to make them turn to the dark revolutionary side where the cookies are fair-trade and organic (such neo-liberal terms, pah, ‘Fair Trade’ another marketing ploy to try and make people forget about the dire oppression of Southern farmers and workers). And herein lies one of the great tragedies of the Revolutionary’s life: How could he ever reconcile his beliefs with the decadent bourgeois lifestyle and belief of his long term friends? They’re his friends, he’s very loyal and he’s nothing but a humanist, I mean, he should be able to make them see the light radiating from the permanent revolution. Such an existentialist conundrum.

As it happens, the Rev’s friends flaunt their paychecks to his face before starting their brand new BMW with a bang with manic laughter, such a graze to his poor heart. They shall never understand the beauty of equality. Sadly for him, the Rev shall never give up on turning friends into Comrades. You have not yet shared with them the ultimate way to get the Rev off your back, which is to call him an oppressive Stalinist. You’re mean.

With a sigh, the Rev therefore goes to his Comrades to find solace. Comrades are people who know their Posadists from their Entrists and who can exactly pinpoint on how many levels Leon Blum was wrong. They can meet up, discuss wildly for hours why the Permanent Revolution is the best socio-political book that was ever written, like, EVER, and agree that mainstream capitalistic thought has infected the heart and minds of potential revolutionaries. They can sing l’Internationale together , translate each other’s work and share the dame sense of humour, giving out hearty guffaws and making thigh-slapping jokes you do not understand: ‘ And then he said, THIS is the real Super-Structure HAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

You love the comrades. How could you not? They’re so afraid they might be accused or actually found guilty of sexism they treat you like a prized egg. Which is in itself sexism. You tell them so. You have no shame. As previously mentioned, you’re mean.

You have become highly reluctant to introduce anyone to the Rev, for after thorough assessment, more often than not, he is likely to put on a frown and close up. What’s up, you’ll ask, he’s a liberal, he’ll mumble, and manage to make it sound like an insult. No, you have understood a long time ago that being called a liberal is only third to being called a Stalinist and a social-democrat in the insult scale of the Rev. You thus hide your liberal friends for fear of him trying to ‘recruit’ them.

Recruititis: the uncontrollable compulsion to recruit people to the Party. Starts innocently enough with questions that are actually traps (Do you know where all your social rights come from? The struggle of the left, that’s where they originated from my dear fellow), then it kind of takes a life of its own with the Rev repeating self-fulfilling prophecies with the fervor of an Ayatollah on Ashoura, gently cajoling you: you’re a Comrade now, yes you are, you’re a comrade now, until you actually believe you are indeed a Comrade, without you knowing how it happened.

You could try and come to the rescue of the cornered poor soul and free him from the ever seducing claws of the Rev, only it’s decidedly too funny when it’s not happening to you.

Yes.

You’re mean.

 

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Hear us!

Hear us! Hear us! Hear the uproar of our silence, the 2000 banshee screams of our sealed mouths!
Feel us! Feel us! Feel the strength of our empty stomachs, the blade of our emaciated figures rip through the guilty bubble of your indifference, and neglect and ignorance.
If our destiny is submission, oppression, humiliation and injustice, then we choose death over that sliver of a life. We close our lips to liberate our souls, you can lock us up and bring us down but you can’t touch what is gloriously, utterly ours, our minds, our faith, our visceral attachment for our land, the vibes and acts of solidarity going above and beyond your crimes, the love of our families and friends.
You can lock us up and bring us down, yet we escape, we are everywhere, in the prayers in churches and mosques, in the raised fist of peoples throughout the world, in the existence and lives of our children, in the olive trees of Palestine.
You can lock us up and bring us down, yet we are everywhere, in your frantic attempts at covering up the horrors you perform, in all the sugar coating you need to do to at least try and appear human in your own eyes, yet we see clearly, yet we are not fooled, our starved bodies come knocking at your doors, you can lock us up and bring us down, yet each day that passes pushes you, not us, further down the hounds of hell.
Our silence speaks louder than your bullets, our dignity reaches higher than your violence, we may have an empty stomach but our heads are held high, your blows don’t make us bow.
Hear us! Hear us! Hear the uproar of our silence, the 2000 banshee screams of our sealed mouths!
Feel us! Feel us! Feel the strength of our empty stomachs, the blade of our emaciated figures rip through the guilty bubble of your indifference, and neglect and ignorance!

Plastic Capitalist

Today, I was attending a Meeting on women’s leadership: men in suit moderators, outdated data, lack of content. The meeting was supposedly women’s leadership, yet the was not discussed and rather, the whole thing looked more like a company’s team building retreat, with moderators apparently on a mission to complete their template.
When my colleagues and I raised the issues, we were told to, in that order: take things with a pinch of salt, be more positive, that the best people were moderating the sessions, that we were aggressive and that finally we were welcomed to send all our suggestions and evaluation in the little form provided in the little folder.
It was strange to see that apparently there was no woman qualified enough to be part of the moderators, but beyond those specific issues, it was appalling to witness how much the issue of women’s rights has become commodified, treated via companies specialized in “leadership strategies”, within the framework of a conference so formatted the environment for leadership development was far from being provided. The worst part of it all might very well have been that organizers and moderators presented themselves as “feminists”. The same ones who told me to “take things with a pinch of salt”, presenting themselves as feminists.
This situation clearly reminded me how much feminism has been overused, recuperated and distorted, the way you see right wing neocons parading as feminists. Feminism is by definition a revolutionary current aiming at questioning power relations, whether they are economic power relations, gender power relations or political relations. As feminists, we must remain aware of what language is being used, what methods are being used, what images, what attitudes, everything. Remaining vigilant and speaking out against situations that strike us as insensitive gender wise, or oppressive to any social group, not just women , are part of our job, and if that makes us aggressive, then so be it. When we spoke out at that conference, many people blamed us from holding the agenda back, from being too offensive: I however can’t help but notice that our stir caused two women trainers to moderate one session, which was not previously factored in the programme, just like the acts of feminists demonstrators in the 70’s were perceived as aggressive, yet you wouldn’t have seen drastic changes in European laws pertaining to women and gender without them. Feminism, contrary to women’s rights currents, not only asks for gender equality within laws and practice: it aims at shifting societies upside down to challenge traditional conservative concepts of what it means to be a woman or a man, it aims at questioning and changing heteronormative and sexist beliefs and practices.
One of the aspects of the intrusion and recuperation of progressive ideologies by capitalism and neoliberal policies is how the emphasis has shifted from public duties to individual duties. While talking about women’s rights and empowerment, so many people kept pointing fingers at women, stating it was up to them to seize opportunities and not to wait on the state to give them anything. The success of capitalism is that it has managed to make people believe that asking anything from the government is acting as an assisted person. It’s the Nike philosophy, just do it, you can do it, etc, you you you and people who try to do it and fail are stigmatized. Reminder: governments ratify human rights law treaties, therefore, governments should be held accountable for respecting, protecting and implementing them. The State has a duty, in fact many of them, and part of the empowerment process is to remind the state of its obligations and put it back in front of them, and stating that in doing so, a citizen is being nothing short of a big whiny baby is. A. Lie.

It was a Strange Time

It was a strange time, a time for sorrow and fake laughter, a time for violence and greed, a time where profit ruled the world, the Lord of all small and mighty things, the God of slaves chained to it. It was a strange time, a time where life had no meaning except when it came to controlling people’s bodies, where words like peace came loaded with ugly meaning, where justice came hand in hand with security, void of their meaning, turned into weapons of corruption and discrimination.

It was a strange time, a time where a mini skirt could get you raped and a veil on your head killed, a time of lies made by wolves not even bothering to hide their teeth anymore, a time where bare feet were aplenty, pounding the soil of a spoiled soiled earth in search of something long gone, dignity.

It was a strange time, a time where culture was to be flaunted and not cultivated, a time where books needed to bring money and not knowledge, a time where the magic of words had been trapped and replaced by the nauseating prose of publicity.

It was a strange time, a time where how much you earned and where you worked were more important than the amount of blood you had on your hands, a time where elders rot in their desolated homes for weeks before the stench bothered their neighbours, a time where your life was glittery on computer and your inside putrid with loneliness.

It was a strange time, a time where sex had stopped being beautiful to become dangerous and threatening, a time where love was a quaint notion measured by the size of the ring of your finger , a time where family ties were frayed and broken by the lightings of bombs and selfishness and superficiality.

It was a strange time, a time where happiness was a dare, resistance the only means of existence, where rediscovering feelings of solidarity and equality stopped being dreamers’ luxuries to turn into necessary realities.

It was a time for standing up, it was a time for refusals, it was a time for strength and courage and drive. It was a time to replace charity by justice, it was a time to reoccupy bodies and minds, it was a time to oust tyrants and fight opportunists, it was a time for change. It was a time for a global revolution, it was a time to find back our voice, it was a time to escape manipulation and go back to the realms of reason. 

It was a strange time, my time, but I chose my side. 

On Going on A Micro General Strike

When speaking about feminism and women’s rights, I think I have found myself guilty of going on about laws, international conventions, treaties and regulations, which, while being necessary, somewhat puts the whole issue of sexism at an abstract level made of negotiations, politics, and international and national high level meetings.
While we all have to be aware of what decisions our governments take, it is equally important to talk about daily sexism, the fact that women have to fight sexism and patriarchy every day, the fact that these values and attitudes impact their every days lives.
Whereas hidden in a sarcastic comment or acted upon in a very loud and clear fashion, sexism and patriarchy are still everywhere and have a strong impact on women’s lives.
Still talking in obscure words? Let me just give you a few examples. I
About two weeks ago, I was discussing the awful (at least for me) subject of giving birth with some friends who had already gone through the ordeal ( and please, I don’t want to hear anything about how it was the most beautiful day of anyone’s life. All that blood and pain can’t be good. Giving birth is a necessary step, full stop, don’t try and romanticize it just because your brain wants to forget just how awful it was. There are other women who need the truth here) (ok, it might be the terror talking). Ok, moving on, there we were, sharing horror stories of birth giving and what not, when my friend told me the most awful thing that happened to her on the day of her delivering. Contrary to what I was expecting, it was not the twelve meter long epidural needle, it was not the pain, or the blood, or the fear. It was her husband, actually asking her to iron his white shirt while she was on the phone telling him her water just broke. Let me get this straight, I told her, there you were, paddling in your own water, utterly scared and freaking out, calling your husband so he can help you and drive you to the hospital so you could deliver his child, and he asked you to iron his shirt before going? Yes, she said.
We then looked at each other with eyes like saucers, and I could tell she still couldn’t get her head around it.
What kind of society creates that kind of sense of entitlement so that one of its member can lose all sense of priorities and ask about a FUCKING SHIRT before the health of a woman?
A society riddled with patriarchal values, that’s what.
Social roles women are allocated are very rigid and hard to shake, it takes not only advocacy from social movements for laws to change, but also daily conscious efforts to expose gender discrimination in art, the media, and mainstream discourse.
But let me get back to testimonies: once I knew what I was looking for, stories of women being asked to do things just because they were “the wife” or women kept jumping at me.
Another close friend of mine works full time ( a Lebanese full time, meaning she has two demanding jobs), is always there to support her family and take care of her son. Her husband, even though he works much less, still eats then gets up without even lifting his little finger. When my friend asked him to mind their son so she get in the shower, he told her, brace yourselves again, that he did not have the patience to do it, that he was tired.
Here my brain starts screaming “I’ll give you tired, you useless piece of humanity”. Naturally, this is the all-public, sweetened, version of the much less polite epithets I mentally gave him. The list could honestly go on, as I seem to be a magnet for stories of incapable husbands and boyfriends who always seem too tired to do anything that resembles a house chore.
Challenging these deeply seated beliefs is a fight, there’s no other word for it, but it’s a necessary one. Power is negotiated both in the public and private spheres: deciding who will do the washing up is indeed a power struggle, the one ending up doing nothing actually becoming the winner, not because it’s some kind of game, but because the one cleaning the toilets can’t read Marx and write articles or relax at the same time. Yesterday I was explaining to a friend why I didn’t like the interpretations that put the blame on the women: some people will say it’s the women’s fault for not asserting themselves, something that is in my opinion partly true. To me, women should lead the struggle against patriarchy, but society as a whole should feel concerned, because being asked to do certain things because you’re a woman, or being seen in a certain way because you’re a woman creates a growing sense of resentment from said women, resentment that destroys the love in relationship and creates very unhappy human beings. Truth is, cleaning toilets is no one’s favourite hobby and certainly no woman’s favorite thing to do. There shouldn’t therefore be an expectation on us to do it all the time. Besides, we shouldn’t be too quick to judge other women who might not appear to yell at their partner with blood shot eyes that if said partners didn’t make the bed, he’d die a slow, painful death. Being quiet about it doesn’t mean they don’t realize they’re being expected to do things just because they’re women. I think they’re just uncomplaining because they don’t see how this whole system can be changed because no one challenges it around them. So they resign, and carry on because it’s easier than risking social disapproval and constant fights at home, when it’s not worse like violence. When I arrived to Lebanon and had my first lunch with my aunt and new husband, said husband ate, then got up and cleared the dishes off the table. My aunt seemed to have an aneurysm and screeched at me :”keef 3am betkhalli y9oum! How do you let him get up and clean up???” as if it was my fault he was a perverted soul who helped a bit at home. The fact that she was expecting me to fling myself at my husband, begging him to let me do it so he wouldn’t have to get up was utter madness. Was she out of her mind?
Then I calmly explain to her that he was not a saint really, that he only cleared a table and that was the minimum he could do, that it was completely normal that we would both do stuff at home, and why should I be the one getting up and clearing up? Did I have something in my female DNA that programmed me to do so?
To which my aunt looked at me, then at her husband and said: nyyellik, your uncle eats, then spreads his considerable self on the couch and calls for his tea.
Fighting sexism in our daily lives is the first of all fights, one that, when is won, is won forever.
I’ll leave you with a most inspirational story that my Kenyan supervisor in my previous job shared with me. In order to teach her husband that he should learn how to cook and clean as she was a most busy woman, she just stopped doing anything. “I’m telling you, she would chuckle, I would leave those pans in the sink forever, I would pick up my dinner and eat in my bed while he d be waiting for his, I kept my nerve, and eventually, he started really sharing chores with me”. I called it the micro general strike, and I loved the idea.
Could I do that? If I m honest, No, I’ m way too anal retentive to leave anything in the sink for more than 2 minutes.
No, I can’t do that, but I m still working on becoming the change I want to see, so I keep fighting gender discrimination in my everyday life, starting from home, even if that means the bed won’t be made exactly how I want it to be. At least it ll be made, and by someone who isn’t me.

Are you tired of feeling unsafe on the streets of Beirut? Of being submitted to harassment, abuse and violence? It’s time to make our voices heard! Join us on the 14th of January for a march to claim our right to live free from violence, rape and abuse! Let each of us bring 3 friends. The more we are, the bigger our impact. Share share share and tell your friends, your mother, your brothers, sisters, cousins and their mothers!

Lebanon, a Land of Men (and of a few Courageous Women) Part II

I am a Lebanese woman married to a Swiss man. My children will never be Lebanese, nor will my husband, because I am considered as a second class citizen in my own country, which doesn’t seem to deem it necessary to grant me the same citizenship rights as everyone else (also known as men).

My friend, we’ll call her Lina, is married to a Palestinian, and walks around with her two blue cards in her purse, one for her child, one for her husband, those two little permits that virtually grant them nothing. May the law be amended soon, I told her, it’ll facilitate our lives.

Kess ekht 2al balad, she replied, arranging a strand of her loosely curly hair.

Lina has a tendency to swear with a sweet smile, while I tend to slam doors while doing it. To each its own.

Lebanon, along with many Arab countries, has enacted reservations to the Convention for the Elimination of all forms of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW), notably pertaining to citizenship rights (art. 9 par. (2) of the Convention) and rights within marriage (art.16 par (1) (c) (d) (f) (g) of the Convention). Reservations are conditions put forward by States parties to a Convention or a Treaty enabling signatories to consider they will not be or only partly bound by some dispositions within the instrument they’re signing and ratifying.

Article 9 (2) of the CEDAW Convention states that:

 

Article 9
2. States Parties shall grant women equal rights with men with respect to the nationality of their children.

When signing CEDAW, Lebanon has enacted its reservation with regards to this article, stating it will not consider itself legally bound by it.

In International Law, there is a strict procedure to follow when putting forward reservations. Among other things, reservations need to be in conformity with the object and the purpose of the treaty. Clearly, a reservation aiming at discriminating women with regards to citizenship rights within a Convention against all forms of Discrimination against women is against the object and purpose of the treaty, and should have been objected to by other States signatories. However, Arab States submitted their ratification of the treaty to the acceptance of their reservations, so the International Community chose to accept them, for the sake of having more States being bound to at least some parts of the Convention. Which was all well and dandy, but left Arab women to fend for themselves when advocating for the end of this blatant form of discrimination. Arab governments can now claim their reservations were made in all legality as no one objected to them, making the advocacy work activists more difficult.

More difficult, but doable nonetheless: States parties may have not objected, but activists and civil society are and have been and will continue.

So let me get this straight: as a woman, I will carry a child during 9 months, I will bear the burden of giving birth to it (no walk in the park), I will feed it with my own breasts and help raise it and be its mother, his primary caregiver or what have you, yet I am deemed by a government made mostly of grey aging overweight men that my child will not have the same passport as me?

I don’t think so.

The Lebanese government can claim the contrary until blue in the face, citizenship rights define what kind of relationship citizens have with a State, and in the present context in Lebanon, the State clearly indicates that all intents and purposes, women are second class citizens. Patriarchy and the sectarian system of Lebanon work hand in hand in oppressing women on a daily basis: indeed, most political parties position themselves with regards to citizenship rights not on the need to stop discrimination against women, but on confessional calculations, the main question being: if Lebanese women married to foreigners can give their citizenship, how will it affect the confessional balance of Lebanon?

To which I reply: I don’t give a damn, get out of this poisonous sectarian thought system and give me my right, for women should not bear the burden of harmful political practices. 

The Jinsiyati campaign (the Nationality Campaign), started several years ago, has been gathering women’s rights activists in an effort to amend the law. Even though public authorities have started facilitating the emission of permits to non-Lebanese spouses married to Lebanese women, the law is still at a standstill. To add insult to injury, the Lebanese government has speedily endorsed a law enabling Lebanese emigrants to reclaim their Lebanese nationality, but ONLY if they have a Lebanese father or grandfather. Once more, women are put aside, and the discrimination is furthered. This new law completely overlooks Lebanese women’s participation in the economic and social life of Lebanon and the situation in which women married to foreigners are experiencing.

This is why today at 15:00, women’s rights activists and supporters will gather in a sit in protesting against the lack of political will to change the discriminating law. Women will also donate their blood in solidarity and to show that Lebanese women, just as men, have Lebanese blood.

Join us in front of the Ministry of Interior in Beirut, and help us put the government back in front of their responsibilities.

Say NO to discrimination against women, you have a voice, make it be heard!

References

http://www.albawaba.com/editorchoice/lebanese-women-fight-back-against-new-citizenship-law-405729
http://www.nasawiya.org/web/2011/12/the-recent-recision-by-the-cabinet-to-restore-lebanese-nationality/
http://www.dailystar.com.lb/News/Local-News/2011/Dec-14/156829-dual-nationality-draft-law-sparks-praise-and-ire.ashx#axzz1huODwS1G
http://www.undp.org.lb/ProjectFactSheet/projectDetail.cfm?projectId=89
http://www.learningpartnership.org/lib/lebanese-cabinet-issues-draft-law-reinstate-lebanese-nationality-descendants-lebanese-fathers-an

http://english.al-akhbar.com/content/calls-protest-anti-woman-nationality-law-interior-ministry

Lebanon: Land of the Men (and of a Few Courageous Women)

Sit In For Lebanese Women Rights to Grant Nationality to their Family

If you’re in Beirut, join us tomorrow for a sit in in front of the Ministry of Interior at 15:00 on the Sanaye3 Roundabout. More details here:

https://www.facebook.com/#!/events/292435000793549/  

Lebanese women are acting and advocating for change: they deserve full citizenship rights, and the right to grant their families their nationality is one.

Besides, a draft law is currently being examined by the Parliament to give Lebanese citizenship to Lebanese abroad whose father or grandfather was Lebanese, mothers and grandmothers not being taken into account. This is only furthering the discrimination against women in a country where laws pertaining to women are discriminatory and in violation of the CEDAW convention.

So Join our Struggle towards substantive gender equality!

Blog post will follow the sit in and Tweets under @CafeThawra

Becoming A Feminist Activist

Link: Becoming A Feminist Activist

My take on becoming a feminist activist, written for the AWID Blogathon on the Young Feminist Wire

Here’s the 1st paragraph, to read more, follow the link:

I believe becoming a feminist activist creeps up on you. You don’t wake up one day thinking: « Mmm, right, after coffee I’ll just go and advocate for women’s rights, now shall I? ». At least this isn’t how it happened for me. Becoming an activist was the result of an internal process fuelled by observations: a condescending attitude from a man , a patronising comment , an inner sense of difference because I am a woman, and because I am an Arab woman who lived in a small French town rife with prejudices and misconceptions about Arab women. In general, all of this conspired to render me attentive to stories of oppression from a young age…Read more at http://yfa.awid.org/2011/11/becoming-a-feminist-activist/

How to Live With a Revolutionary Without Losing Your Head (Or Committing His)

Chapter 11: On Ideology (Coming back to Bite The Rev in The Ass)

Essentialism, Definition: Essentialism is a generalization stating that certain properties possessed by a group (e.g. people, things, ideas) are universal, and not dependent on context. Needless to say, Comrade Said and the Revolutionary do not approve.

For those of you who follow the hectic life of the Revolutionary, you already know that it’s difficult keeping up with him. The risks of being contaminated are limitless, and soon enough, you will find yourself talking about essentialism, quoting Comrade Said and Comrade Trotsky right, left and center.

However, beware: this isn’t because you’ve actually cracked under the pressure and gave in and started reading the Bible (last time I explain: by Bible, we here mean the Permanent Revolution by Comrade Trotsky and NOT the religious book). This is merely because the Revolutionary repeats the same concepts and arguments so many times that your poor brain has now integrated them effortlessly, and you now dub anything essentialist, reactionary and/or counter-revolutionary 1) just to shut him up and 2) because now, you can.

The Revolutionary isn’t exactly happy about that.

While his mission is indeed to spread the Gospel of the Revolution (No! Not in a religious way! We are not proselytes! What we’re trying to do here is simply awakening and mobilising the masses!), the Revolutionary would like to see dedicated revolutionaries-to-be using these concepts and gathering people, not his entourage recuperating the much beloved revolutionary discourse to have a good laugh.

No no no, this is absolutely NOT going according to plan! This is simply too much to bear for the revolutionary: on the one hand he has his banker friends using the word “struggle” to explain everything and anything, and on the other hand he’s finding his (working in a bank, Great Apostle of Capitalism) sibling explaining his own version of essentialism. As in:

– Revolutionary: Banks are all looking for their own profits while not giving a damn about people! You can’t talk about ethics in the global financial system! The whole system is corrupt and needs change and reform! See where Money Men like you are driving us!

– Capitalist, remaining calm: Are you generalising on bankers? You can’t do that. This is essentialism.

To which the Revolutionary will choke and suffocate on: is the struggle against essentialism being recuperated and used against the noble quest of equality? But, but this is evil! Damn those reactionary counter-revoltuionary forces! They’ve already recycled the Che for mercantile purposes and now that! Such Utter Disgrace!

Once more, the Rev will find himself struggling.

And it’s not like his hardships and hurdles stop there.

Keen to prove he’s a revolutionary each and every steps of the way, there is no worse insult for the Rev than to imply he might not be. As a feminist, you might point out some patriarchal attitudes that remain in the Rev’s behaviour (after all, he IS a man, and society hasn’t left him out of its share of masculine privilege), to which he’ll object, all indignant: I’m a feminist! I’m a revolutionary! I support all oppressed people in the world! Men, Women, Animal! Gender is a social construct! What else can I say?

You might think that’s nice, but try and endure a whole movie in which the main actress fights against patriarchy with the Rev whispering next to you: See, I’m not like that, I’m there for you, I encourage you, I support you huh? huh? huh?

You however feel for the Revolutionary (well, most of the times): Can you imagine the stress and pressure he’s continuously under?

Beware, people: Ideology kills.