I feel like so much of mainstream feminism springs from the second wave, which was essentially a discourse spearheaded by white, cisgender, upper middle class women. I feel – especially as I’m trying to negotiate this new female space with the feminism that’s available to me – there are a lot of places where I’m disenfranchised.
Sports exact too harsh a toll on our beautiful women. Like engendered species, they should be protected, and instead, we exploit them and demand they fly too close to the sun for our amusement. We send them into the arena for an exhausting three-setter, an 18-hole playoff, a 200th lap. The burnout factor is insurmountable.
Sometimes negative news does come out, but it is often exaggerated and manipulated to spread scandal. Journalists sometimes risk becoming ill from coprophilia and thus fomenting coprophagia: which is a sin that taints all men and women, that is, the tendency to focus on the negative rather than the positive aspects.
It’s no big secret that ‘thinking’ women, since they are already gifted with fully functioning brains, are more than happy to have a yummy not-so-smart man in their lives. All we ask for is a sense of humor, a sense of hygiene, and the sense to not cheat.
I have a traditional Catholic personal position, but I am very strongly supportive that women should make these decisions and government shouldn’t intrude. I’m a strong supporter of Roe v. Wade and women being able to make these decisions. In government, we have enough things to worry about.
While physics and mathematics may tell us how the universe began, they are not much use in predicting human behavior because there are far too many equations to solve. I’m no better than anyone else at understanding what makes people tick, particularly women.
Think of Virginia Woolf, ‘A Room of One’s Own’ – that’s what women have always needed under patriarchy and can’t be creative without. They took away my classroom and my status to teach, and now they have taken away my office, and all of it is giving the message that Virginia Woolf and I are losing what I call ‘womenspace.’
I seem to be getting a lot of things pushed my way that are strong women. It’s like people see Hackers and they send me offers to play tough women with guns, the kind who wear no bra and a little tank top. I’d like to play strong women who are also very feminine.
A few people have asked me about the women agenda on country radio. I can only speak for myself on this, and all I have to say is that I’m very grateful, and thankful, that country radio has been so automatically accepting, and supportive, of me and my music.
Women of child-bearing age steadily run out of eggs by the continuous process of cell death. While reading a copy of the ‘Guardian’ carefully from cover to cover, a normal woman will have lost on average two eggs – while, typically, a normal man will have made 70,000 new sperm.
For the several thousands of years before they became firefighters and physicians, women were sirens, enchantresses, snares. At times it seems as if female powerlessness is male self-preservation in disguise. And for millennia, this has made for a zero-sum game: A woman’s intelligence was a man’s deception.
Men always want and love when women wear tight and fitted clothing, right? And you’re like, ‘Wow, she looks so beautiful.’ And then you have men who dress like slobs, and you’re like, ‘What’s the deal with these big and baggy suits.’ It’s pretty ridiculous.
Most women have jobs that require them to leave the house. A cat is actually a perfect pet. You get the love and companionship of a creature covered in fur, and you don’t have to take it for a walk, and it can feed itself. Less maintenance. Surely any man can appreciate the practicality of this choice.
The idea that women are innately gentle is a fantasy, and a historically recent one. Kali, the Hindu goddess of destruction, is depicted as wreathed in male human skulls; the cruel entertainments of the Romans drew audiences as female as they were male; Boudicca led her British troops bloodily into battle.
I first heard of General Anders and his army more than 50 years ago. I admired him then, and I admire him still; and I feel a special bond with the men, women and children whom he rescued from hunger, disease, and official abuse. Theirs is a story of endurance and fortitude that gives one faith in the human spirit.
It’s kind of the yin and yang that fascinate me. That for all the evil men do, there are also people who work obnoxiously long hours and sacrifice their personal lives because it is a calling – if they don’t keep our streets safe, if they aren’t there to advocate for and save beaten women and children and murder victims, who will?
Today when I think about diversity, I actually think about the word ‘inclusion.’ And I think this is a time of great inclusion. It’s not men, it’s not women alone. Whether it’s geographic, it’s approach, it’s your style, it’s your way of learning, the way you want to contribute, it’s your age – it is really broad.
I don’t see women and think of them as competition or with judgment. Women really move me. I feel connected to all kinds of women. I am angry because I think we’ve been mistreated throughout history in different countries, including America. I admire women.
A series of studies in the 1990s and 2000s revealed that as women gained more access to education, jobs, and birth control, they had fewer children. As a result, developed countries in western Europe, Japan, and the Americas were seeing zero or negative population growth.
What we need is a ‘Smart Wall’ to solve our 21st century border problems. A Smart Wall would use sensor, radar and surveillance technologies to detect and track incursions across our border so we can deploy efficiently our most important resource, the men and women of Border Patrol, to perform the most difficult task – interdiction.
For a time, I believed not in God nor Santa Claus, but in mermaids. They seemed as logical and possible to me as the brittle twig of a seahorse in the zoo aquarium or the skates lugged up on the lines of cursing Sunday fishermen – skates the shape of old pillowslips with the full, coy lips of women.
I was shooting for a Telugu film at the Taj Mahal in Agra, and there were all these women and children pointing and screaming, ‘Rowdy Rathore.’ But I am not really ‘Rowdy Rathore.’ I am the guy who did the original version of ‘Rowdy Rathore’ six years ago.
