I Love the Internets

There’s just so much amazing stuff on there on the internets these days. Like, for example, Carey Roberts’ Twelve-Step Feminist Cure.

Mr. Roberts is very concerned with the “condition” of feminism, which he explains is “chronic, progressive, and highly contagious. With my own eyes I’ve seen bright, caring women fall under the sway of its deceptive allure. They soon begin to speak and act like someone possessed.” You see, feminism has the nasty habit of driving women to radical acts like “refus[ing] to use lip-stick or brush their hair.” He even links to a picture of Andrea Dworkin, “high-priestess” of feminism, to point out that she “doesn’t appear particularly liberated or enlightened. In fact she looks downright miserable.” As opposed to, you know, him, I guess.

So, this foxy chappy has decided that what “we” need is “a massive de-programming effort to help the millions of Gender Studies grads who now endure lives of resentment and barren solitude. They urgently need a helping hand — what will we do? The solution is a 12-step self-help program — you guessed it: Feminists Anonymous.”

As you can imagine, being one of the women who has fallen victim to the horrors of feminism, which Mr. Roberts describes as “loss of sense of humor, self-centeredness, and a decreasing ability to perceive reality accurately…paranoia, hysteria, and intense anger,” and what I would describe as “viewing myself as a fully equal human being with an obligation to assert my right to be so,” I was very interested in going through the twelve steps to rid myself of the insidious, life-ruining grip of feminism.

Step One: “We admitted we were powerless over feminism — that our lives had become bitter, lonely, and meaningless.”

Hmm. Well, I can admit I’m “powerless over feminism.” I mean, it existed before I was born and will probably exist after I die, and I doubt anything I’d do would change that. So, looks like I’m off to a good start! That next bit is trickier, though. My life isn’t bitter, lonely, or meaningless. In fact, even though I’m unemployed, totally broke, and never wear lipstick, my life is nonetheless filled with lots of interesting intellectual pursuits, an optimism about the future, a happy marriage, and a wealth of wonderful friendships. I sort of feel like I’d be trashing all that to say my life is for shit, so I guess I’ll just have to skip over that one for now.

Step Two: “We came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.”

Ouch. So, first I have to admit I’m insane. I certainly don’t feel insane. Lucidity—check. Ability to differentiate between real and unreal—check. No voices in my head—check. Looks like I’ll have to come back to this one, too.

Step Three: “We made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him. (That’s right, Him. Now’s the time to get rid of that Wiccan broomstick stashed in your closet.)”

Hey—I never got a Wiccan broomstick! My Feminist Welcome Basket only came with a block of tofu, a tin language police badge, and a copy of Body Hair Beautiful. Damn it! I totally got screwed.

Step Four: “We made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves. (Hint: Humility is the first step in the path to self-awareness.)”

Now I’m confused. This was also Step Four in the Feminist Introductory course.

Step Five: “We admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.”

Um…Jesus? I don’t wear lipstick. I’m sorry. (That one was a total home run!)

Step Six: “We were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character — despite the self-professed good intentions of Betty Friedan and Gloria Steinem.”

I’m ready, God. I’m waiting… Still waiting… drums fingers Yup, still waiting… Okay, God isn’t paying any attention to me. I still feel as though I should get equal pay for equal work and have the last word on my own bodily autonomy. I’ll come back to this one when God’s done fixing Africa.

Step Seven: “We humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings.”

That sounds a lot like Step Six. But that’s probably just my feminism talking. I’m sure I’ll understand the nuance once the evils of feminism have been scourged from my being. You know, after Step Twelve.

Step Eight: “We made a list of all men and women we had harmed, living and unborn, and became willing to make amends to them. (Practice saying, “I’m sorry” in front of the mirror each morning.)”

Maybe it’s because I never got my Wiccan broomstick, but I’m starting to think that I’m not a real feminist or something. Because I’ve been apologizing to people I hurt for, like, my whole life. I always thought it was because that’s what decent people do, but I guess it’s just because I never got my broomstick. Come to think of it, most of the feminists I know apologize if they hurt someone. I’m going to have to check their closets.

Step Nine: “We made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would be impossible, or would injure them or others.”

See, now this sounds a lot like Step Eight. Oh, wait. I see. Step Eight was about becoming willing to make amends, and this one is about actually doing it. I see. Now that practicing in the mirror thing makes more sense.

Step Ten: “We continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong, promptly admitted it. (If you haven’t already taken your name off the Feminist Majority alert list, do it now.)”

Wow. There are a lot of steps about admitting how wrong I’ve been. It seems like it would be a lot simpler if Mr. Roberts just made one step suggesting I flagellate myself—one snap of the whip for every evil feminist thought I’d ever had, or something. Maybe he could offer a little brand I could sink into my flesh for each day I haven’t worn lipstick.

Step Eleven: “We sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God, as we understood Him, praying only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out.”

Fuck, you know, I’m starting to think I need to do some twelve step program for atheism first, if this whole ridding-myself-of-feminism thing is ever going to work.

Step Twelve: “Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to feminists, and to practice these principles in all our affairs.”

scrolls back up … Um, what message? What principles? As far as I can tell, I’m basically supposed to tell everyone my life is total rubbish because I’m a feminist (which isn’t true), apologize to people if I do something wrong by them (which I already do), and give my life over to God—who, per Mr. Roberts’ explanation of how feminism controls every aspect of my life, seems to simply be a male replacement for doing all my thinking for me. Oh, and start wearing lipstick.

Color me a hopeless case. I’m still a darn feminist.

And I want my broom!

(Hat tip to Punkass Marc, who’s got his own great post on Roberts’ 12-steppin’.)