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The decline of feminist prose: From Germaine Greer to Rebecca “I Don’t F*cking Care” Traister

July 21, 2014

If you’ve got to read a man-hating screed, which would you rather read?

Germaine Greer, Shakespeare scholar, writing in 1971:

The revolutionary woman must know her enemies, the doctors, psychiatrists, health visitors, priests, marriage counsellors, policemen, magistrates and genteel reformers, all the authoritarians and dogmatists who flock about her with warnings and advice. She must know her friends, her sisters, and seek in their lineaments her own. With them she can discover co-operation, sympathy and love. The end cannot justify the means: if she finds that her revolutionary way leads only to further discipline and continuing incomprehension, with their corollaries of bitterness and diminution, no matter how glittering the objective which would justify it, she must understand that it is a wrong way and an illusory end. The struggle which is not joyous is the wrong struggle. The joy of the struggle is not hedonism and hilarity, but the sense of purpose, achievement and dignity which is the reflowering of etiolated energy. Only these can sustain her and keep the flow of energy coming. The problems are only equalled by the possibilities: every mistake made is redeemed when it is understood. The only ways in which she can feel such joy are radical ones: the more derided and maligned the action that she undertakes, the more radical.

or:

Rebecca Traister, “F”-word queen, writing in 2014:

“I Don’t F*cking Care If You Like It”

Just asking.
Posted by Charlotte Allen

 

 

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