Sunday, November 6, 2016

Day 6: I tried

I tried to write a post tonight about a new kind of pot that makes women have better orgasms. I tried to write something funny and lighthearted, but I just can't do it. I've let too many men get to me recently. Too many men who barge in on conversations women are having with each other, because they think women need to be told how to vote. Because, of course, these mansplainers think we aren't capable of thinking with our heads. We're thinking with our vaginas -- as if that's even a thing -- and we're only voting for Hillary Clinton for one reason: because she has a vagina.

Because obviously there can be only one reason for voting for a candidate. We're so simple, you know,  we women are. We need to be protected from our own simpleness.  But I say to you, mansplainers, what if we are voting for HRC simply because she has a vagina? So fucking what? Every other time I've voted one of the reasons those men have been on the ballot is because they have dicks. Or one assumes. So why not vote for a vagina, given it's the first time I've had the choice? I've been voting for dicks my entire adult life. I'm looking to spice it up this time. 

And really, isn't voting for Hillary's vagina every bit as sensible as voting for Trump because he tells it like it is? A man who by one accounting lies 91% of the time? I'll put Hillary's vagina up against that any day.

The issue really isn't Hillary's vagina though. It's this idea so many men have that they have an open invitation into any conversation and that their opinions hold more weight than even an entire group of women's simply because they have a dick swinging around between their legs. And furthermore that we will embrace them despite their rude behavior and take care of their fragile egos by pretending to listen and agree with them even when they're so stupidly wrong there's nothing there to agree with.

It's maddening. And it's why women are making secret online communities where they can talk without being hijacked by assholes. For example, I'm in one such secret group that, as of this writing, has over 1.6 million people, mostly women, in it. It's the only place many of us can go to discuss Hillary Clinton without being rudely interrupted and told we're stupid and inferior because of our vaginas.

Here's a newsflash, boys. Vaginas vote. The Trump supporters may be riding low on their rage and their threats of violence, but I think the Hillary Clinton supporters are just as angry. The difference is we won't meet the world with violence. We'll take over the world by working together and getting the job done in spite of all the haters and mansplainers out there who want to control our vaginas, but who don't think we deserve equal pay. We may be a little harder to see coming -- daughters, mothers, grandmothers, and great-grandmothers in our pantsuits, yoga pants, high heels, and sensible shoes. You may not even see us until it's too late, but that's OK. Everybody is welcome up here on the high road. Just don't get in our way.

I could go on, but I imagine if you've read this far I'm already preaching to the choir. I really don't need to write about politics here. But I already did, so I'll have to try for lighthearted posts about stoned vaginas another time.


  1. Vaginas Rule! Well, when I walk into my polling place my vagina will certainly go with me!

    1. Mine too. And I hope by the end of the day, we'll be sending one to the White House to sit at that big desk in the Oval Office.

  2. Montana and I voted early and just got it out of the way.

    1. I'm sorry, I should have prefaced that with "Well, actually..."