I love your art! I wish I knew more about artsy type stuff to better say what it is I love. All I’ve got is it’s fun, and lively, and it makes me happy to look at it. (Even if you do occasionally draw stinky, cootie-infested boys. )
You are very welcome. What? Me? Against boys? Oh, no, no, no. Certainly not. It’s just…well…science tells us that boys exude an unpleasant musk…and are born infested with a congenital disorder colloquially referred to as ‘cooties’…and have some disturbing natural instinct to scratch themselves in awkward places at awkward times. Plus, apparently they’re made out of puppy dog tails. Puppy dog tails! Somewhere there’s a litter of poor puppies stumbling about with a stumped tails, just so boys can walk around and scratch themselves. And I’m not okay with that.
No, you do not simply “smell bad.” You exude a noisome musk. Like a skunk with hyperactive anal glands. I’m sorry, “owners?” We’re not talking about used cars here, deary duck. You didn’t pick up your cooties secondhand from some shady dealership on the corner of Sesame and Elm. They came included with your standard issue factory Package. I’m not sure what bargain brand, off-color Zoobooks you’ve been reading, but hamsters are rodents, and rodents are never nice. See, girls are made of proper Everything Nice. Things like sunshine. And the smell of rain. And strawberry daiquiris. Nothing that involves the harm and mutilation of innocent canines. Or even rodents. You see girls itch? That’s either an amusing ability or highly creepy. I’ll let someone else decide which of those is the better choice.
And for the record:
I’m sorry, but I can’t let it lie there. The problem isn’t being called a feminist. I absolutely am a feminist. And damn proud of it. The problem is tossing the phrase around like an insult. Like it’s something harmful. Something to be ashamed of. Feminism is about equality—about women getting treated the same as men because for too long women have been shoved into society's back seat. And too many men have tried to shame women into silence by twisting that word into an insult, dismissing legitimate concerns by making it seem like some ‘hormonal imbalance/Permanent PMS’ trip. Someone wants to call me a misandrist? A man eater? A hormonal witch? Fine. I can deal. But tossing around feminist like that demeans the word—demeans the people who’ve fought so long and hard to make a difference under the banner of that word—and that…that I will not stand for.
And with that out of my system, I'll be happy to consider the matter concluded.