You know what annoys me more than I can express? You can be a person who is only interested in attaching yourself to some guy, becoming his maid and mostly bored sexual partner, you can happily dilute your identity in his completely, even give up your name for him, live as his kept toy, abandon your career to serve his needs (I can give links but do I really need to?), and still call yourself a feminist IF you happen to have a vagina.

At the same time, you can dedicate your life to activism on behalf of gender equality, work hard to maintain the principles of equality in your life, acquaint yourself with feminist theory and improve daily upon its practice but your right to call yourself a feminist will still be disputed IF you happen to have a penis.

And the most hilarious thing of all? The people who award the title of a feminist or withdraw it on the basis of the shape of one’s genitals don’t see a problem with calling themselves feminists. They engage in blatant gender discrimination but see their own feminism as holier-than-thou.

This is precisely the reason why radical feminists often exhibit vicious hatred towards transgender people. In their neatly ordered universe of “penis=male=bad” and “vagina=female=good”, complexities of gender identifications serve as a disruptive, destabilizing force that – oh, horror! – might require one to question the gender binary. And who needs to go to all that trouble when you can simplify your life so much by analyzing the world through the male / female lens?

The entire point of feminism is supposed to be that vaginas and penises should not have meanings assigned to them. (Except, of course, the very individual, personal meaning one might or might not choose to assign to her or his own genitals.) And here come these pseudo-feminists whose entire worldview is based on the difference between penises and vaginas and who do nothing but invent new meanings for these organs.

Seriously, with such friends, feminism needs no enemies.