inmyinternest:

This is a perceptive treatment of the priviledged distress, and I am sympathetic to that distress. Really, I am. But it also gets old, trying to be understanding about it. When I discuss feminism with anti-feminists, I’m nice as long as they’re nice to me. I’ve tried being nice even when the priviledged person isn’t. I’ve tried it and it didn’t work, and I lost my patience. Now I just use the same tone with them as they’re using with me. Seems more fair that way.

Originally posted on The Weekly Sift:

In a memorable scene from the 1998 film Pleasantville (in which two 1998 teen-agers are transported into the black-and-white world of a 1950s TV show), the father of the TV-perfect Parker family returns from work and says the magic words “Honey, I’m home!”, expecting them to conjure up a smiling wife, adorable children, and dinner on the table.

This time, though, it doesn’t work. No wife, no kids, no food. Confused, he repeats the invocation, as if he must have said it wrong. After searching the house, he wanders out into the rain and plaintively questions this strangely malfunctioning Universe: “Where’s my dinner?”

Privileged distress. I’m not bringing this up just to discuss old movies. As the culture evolves, people who benefitted from the old ways invariably see themselves as victims of change. The world used to fit them like a glove, but it no longer does. Increasingly, they find themselves…

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About inmyinternest

A thirty-something woman, watching the world turn
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One Response to

  1. Miranda says:

    “But it also gets old, trying to be understanding about it. When I discuss feminism with anti-feminists, I’m nice as long as they’re nice to me. I’ve tried being nice even when the priviledged person isn’t. I’ve tried it and it didn’t work, and I lost my patience. Now I just use the same tone with them as they’re using with me.”

    YES! The notion that the oppressed should ever be expecred to hold the hand of the oppressor is quite ridiculous to me. I tried to hold the hand of an abusive husband for years before I realized that doing so was only empowering him. This is quite the same thing. Love your blog.

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