There are the occasions that men—intellectual men, clever men, engaged men—insist on playing devil’s advocate, desirous of a debate on some aspect of feminist theory or reproductive rights or some other subject generally filed under the heading: Women’s Issues. These intellectual, clever, engaged men want to endlessly probe my argument for weaknesses, want to wrestle over details, want to argue just for fun—and they wonder, these intellectual, clever, engaged men, why my voice keeps raising and why my face is flushed and why, after an hour of fighting my corner, hot tears burn the corners of my eyes. Why do you have to take this stuff so personally? ask the intellectual, clever, and engaged men, who have never considered that the content of the abstract exercise that’s so much fun for them is the stuff of my life.

—Melissa McEwan, of course, on the terrible bargain.  (via albinwonderland)

(Source: sanitywatchers, via robaemea)

motorizedmycologist:

I don’t get it

it’s like

If you were hanging out with your friend and your friend turns to you and says “hey I don’t know if you noticed but you just stepped on my foot, can you please stop”, I am guessing most people would say “oh man, I’m sorry” and maybe watch where…

(via robaemea)