“Mommy Eeeehhh Ah, Eeeeh Ah OOHHHH.”
Nelly was the best. Unfortunately, feminism doesn’t have the same street cred (shoulda been born in the Lou, feminism). But it has nonetheless become one of the planet’s biggest movements.
As you know, I am an unabashed bro. I wear tank tops to weddings and shotgun beers before work. Also, sluts. Love sluts.
But—and this may surprise people—I’m also a feminist. It’s simply impossible to ignore the scads of bullshit women deal with. Like I bet it sucks.
And as last week's absurd Bro-Choice movement* showed us, being a bro and a feminist are not mutually exclusive.
*Their argument is that bros should be pro-choice so they can have risk-free, unprotected sex ALL THE FUCKING TIME. High five.
But that didn’t cover enough. A bro should support every feminist issue. And as one of the internet’s most preeminent, I’m here to navigate all bros through the mensus-filled canals of feminism.
(That was a test. You weren’t supposed to laugh at “mensus-filled.”)
Equal Pay: Women feel severely underpaid for what they accomplish in the office (looking hot, wearing stockings, carrying manila-folders while still being primed for hot workplace sex). As a bro, you want equal pay. Do you know where the antiquated bullshit about you paying for first dates came from? A time when women weren’t allowed bank accounts. You HAD to pay. And you still have to because the average women makes a nickel for the $24 you earn for Gchatting about those sluts from last night. Fucking sluts, man. So no more Bros before Hos. Bros AND Hos.
Birth Control: You have never experienced this because you only date middle-class white women (why wouldn’t you?), but a lot of women can’t afford birth control out-of-pocket. Because of that whole equal pay thing from earlier. So they need to use health insurance. But a lot of people in Congress (paraphrasing here) think sex has nothing to do with health. And we’ll be goddamned if the United States Government starts issuing sex insurance. How do you explain that to Jesus? But a bro should never be anti-access to birth control. If you are, from here out you must start ever single sexual encounter with “I only use the rhythm method and for the duration of this intercourse, you will too.” Good luck.
Sex: Consensual. Only.
Abortion: Do you want a woman who’s afraid to straight merk a fetus? No. So why do you want a government that is?
Derogatory Language: I know we’ve been liberal with our use of the word “slut” here (just like them sluts, yo), but it’s a word you can’t use anymore. Negative terms go out of style. You wouldn’t call someone a fa—bad example. You still do. But the following words are off limits: slut, whore, cunt. And no more daddy issues. I know the words are fun to say, but there’s this whole history of women being stoned to death for promiscuity. Imagine if in ancient times people used to spit on, cut up and sexually assault lacrosse players. Would you really want to be called a Laxer?
Body Matters: You can no longer tell a woman how to look. No more wear a skirt for daddy (unless you are in a committed relationship and have discussed responsible roleplaying). No more “That bitch don’t shave her pits” (should have “bitch” on that bad words list). I get that you think hairy legs are gross. But remember, you once thought beer was gross. You did. It was only when you gave it a fair chance you learned to like it.
Here’s the deal with you and feminism. Go get a six pack of beer and drink four or so. You know that point where you’re a little buzzed and everything seems awesome? (You have also taken Molly in this scenario.) That’s how you should feel about feminism. Words like “cool” and “awesome” should be your response to their ideals.
Because women would be judged if they drank and took MDMA on a Thursday morning. HARLOT! But you aren’t. And if you don’t want to be judged, then you need to be a feminist. If it makes you feel better, we’ll call you a fe-MAN-ist. There.
Click below to read Part 2 of a The Bros Guide to Being a Feminist
You thought we were done? You really thought you could read a 750 word blog post on feminism and suddenly fashion yourself a regular Susan Bro Anthony? Not a fucking chance.
Now it’s time to dig into this. Do you even know who Michel Foucault is? Well by the end of this post you won’t because fuck 1970 French philosophers. Those bitches were all like “Hey, there are some things in society” and we treat them like social Einsteins. Fuck them. But we are going get theoretical. We are going to talk power dynamics. We are going to talk genderization and biopolitics. We are going to … well … we’re going to talk about the shit French philosophers did in the 1970s. But we aren’t going to sip faggy Cabernet while we do it. No, we are going to drink whiskey and rip lines off of ti—tables. Tables. No need to unnecessarily sexualize cocaine usage.
And we have so many lessons (four) today that you need to know. Because feminism ain’t Tamagotchis. It won’t be uncool when the summer ends. No, it’s more like… touch screens. It’s here to stay. So know this shit.
Gender-Based Expectations: Have you ever wanted to not bro a bit? Like it’s day three of Austin City Limits and your shoulders are sunburned and I don’t want to wear this fucking vintage Dan Majerle Suns jersey to go see MGMT; why can’t I just put on a cotton tee and apply some Aloe Vera? What did you do when that time came? You wore a tee shirt because fuck it. Well guess what? If you were a woman, you couldn’t do that. Because our culture demands women wear skirts during sit-up competitions and rouge while baking muffins and sexy panties ALL THE TIME.
How much that would suck? Lifting weights in a tuxedo. Wearing khaki pants to a keg party. And think about how often you slum it. Now imagine the next time you get pho while hungover, instead of sweatpants you have to wear a sundress. Welcome to being a woman.
Objects of Affection: “I would love it DAWG if random bitches just straight walked up to me and said ‘If I wasn’t married, I would whip out your dick and ride it until snapped in half then store the tip in a jar.’ ”
First off, that hypothetical perpetuates the stereotype that all women love canning. But more importantly, you wouldn’t love this. Because you are imagining hot girls doing this to you. But what if it wasn’t just them. What if it was the hash tag fatties?
“Boy don’t play like that.”
No, you can’t say that because you have to love all attention. Even if you don’t, you have to act demure. And you can’t act demure because you don’t know what the word means. Go ahead. Explain it without Googling. “Uhh.. nice?” No. It means submissive. Deferential. Do you want to be submissive to a woman? If you hollered NO, then you don’t understand what equality actually is.
Pick Ups: Which leads right to our next topic. Picking up women. Fun fact: Women exist to be people. Like their job is to contribute to society. Revelatory, I know, but nonetheless true. And yes, I know what you are about to say.
“But I am genetically hard-wired to bang as many broads as I see.”
Well, are you currently a chimpanzee scampering across the savannah to find a mate? You aren’t? Like instead you are enjoying lots of modern conveniences? Then act like it. You get a tablet computer and Buffalo Wings WHENEVER you want and all you have to do is stop thinking every girl is here to swallow your dick.
“Even the sluts in the club?” you exclaim. Yes. Even the sluts in the club.
Patriarchy: Let’s take a quick breather before our last topic for a “Do You Understand Feminism” quiz.
Question One: Do you run the world? You probably answered no because the only thing you run is a data entry department deep with GAO and you drink so much because you are miserable, but that answer is wrong. Because you are a man. And as things are structured, you run the world. I’ll prove it.
Question Two: Can you be president? Yes. Yes you can.
Question Three: Can a woman? Sure, if she baked enough weed brownies to incapacitate the entire male populace on Election Day. But even then the victory would ring hollow because of all the skirt work involved (baking, cleaning up after the baking).
Men run shit, and as a male your life is immeasurably easier. People look at you and are like “This person could do things.” But women can do things too. Better than us actually. They solve conflicts by drinking wine. Think about how much better that is than being punched in the face. Imagine if instead of suicide bombings Palestine just bitched about Girls.
“Ugh, Israel is such a Samantha.”
Or whatever. I don’t watch the stupid show. No go. Go be a feminist. You’ll love it. I promise.
[Image via ShutterStock]