No, I’m not a feminist

2017 UPDATE: I’ve since had my “peak trans” moment but this person is still horrible,

I can see it already, “But you believe in equality, that makes you a feminist!” har har har yes I know I would meet the dictionary definition of a feminist. But the political movement also called feminism? Keep that shit the fuck away from me.

This was sparked by something I saw last night, but I’ve had an aversion to the activism side of feminism for probably nearing a decade now. A friend of mine said the word “boobs” and was quite literally leaped on by someone because apparently boobs is an “unfeminist” word and you hurt women if you refer to your breasts with any sort of slang. The person later wrote a huge blog post about it and not only lied through their teeth about several things but was just ultimately full of shit. That was the moment when I knew I would no longer ally myself to feminist activism.

Fast forward to last night, in bed, not getting any sleep because of the heat. I scroll down my phone and find this big sparkling gem of ignorance:


The whole thread is honestly horrifying, She attacks trans people and even tells somebody that they have hair on their neck so aren’t a real woman. Guess what kid, I get a full-on beard if I do not shave. Not because I’m trans but because I have both an illness and medication that cause abnormal hair growth. My vulva hasn’t vanished into thin air.

Rosie is a very blatant TERF & SWERF and so it shouldn’t surprise me that she has a very limited ability to think about what gender actually is. Guess what guys, you aren’t born as EITHER a girl or a boy. Some people are born as literally neither.

Intersex people exist. Intersex is not a gender identity, it is a biological state of being. Being intersex can take the form of chromosomes that are not XX or XY, having internal reproductive organs of “both” sexes, or “ambiguous genitalia”. A big burly man may get to age 40 and find out he’s got a uterus, and thus has been intersex the whole time.

I am not intersex myself (as far as I know, anyway) but I take such an interest in it because an ex once spread a rumour that I had “both sets of genitals” and the absolute vitriol I got from people on the same course as me for it, was honestly unbelievable. My ex, of course, got no such hate for having slept with someone who apparently had a penis. It was just my fault for allegedly being born with one.

I doubt that Rosie’s views on gender would change if she discovered that things are not as black and white as she assumes, because she clearly thinks she’s the smartest person alive. There’s not much you can do for people like that.

What really galls me, of course, is Rosie’s unapologetic disability hate. But this isn’t a surprise, coming from a self-proclaimed feminist. People like her have loud conversations about how “women shouldn’t be afraid to take up space,” and then try to manhandle my wheelchair out the way. Only nice able-bodied girls are allowed space. I can’t have it. I’m always “in the way,” whatever I’m doing.

Yes, I’ve experienced plenty of discrimination in life on the basis of my sex. I’ve been raped multiple times. I always get told to “calm down” when talking in a perfectly flat voice. People show scepticism about the news item I’m discussing until the male friend next to me says “yes, I heard about that too,” then the eyebrows raise and the other guys go “oh, it’s actually a thing?”
Despite the fact I’m severely ill and I’m not actually sure I’ll live to 30, my partner’s male friends always think I should be doing more housework. I am literally in tears doing the washing up from the pain that gripping a dish causes, and they will say “you just need more elbow grease” and “why isn’t [thing] cleaner?”
One of them admitted in a room full of people that they find it funny when they get me to think about rape (by making gross jokes all the time), and nobody gave a shit.

Of course, my disability and my gender combine to make things more difficult. Disabled men do get asked whether they can have sex, but more often than not it’s by friends in the pub rather than strangers in the street. Strangers are happy to shout inappropriate things at you from park benches if you’re a disabled woman. (Yes, I have sex, I don’t know why people assume we can’t just because we need to sit down most of the time).
When people approach me I have to run through my mind whether they’re going to attack me, say something gross, or accuse me of benefit fraud.

I am not anti-feminist, and I am the literal definition of a feminist, as someone who wants equality, but I will not be a part of its contemporary activism. Rosie doesn’t want me to be, anyway.
I do hope she gets crippled by a truck and has to direct her own opinions towards herself.

Keep your feminism, Rosie. I don’t actually want it.