Thursday, August 26, 2010

The Ultimate Feminist

Although she became a total wuss since she married that dude from Bush, Gwen Stefani was pissed off in the nineties. Was she pissed because she grew up in Orange County California where the weather is awesome all the time? No. Was she pissed because her band took off, meaning that she’ll never have to punch-in to a real job ever again? No. Was she pissed because she was on the cover of magazines while gladly accepting the adoration of fans the world over?

No, she was pissed because she was oppressed. After all, she’s a girl in captivity.

Women had it pretty rough in the nineties. They were working the same jobs as dudes (although not making equal wages, but still). Lesbians were running amok. Salt N Pepa made promiscuous sex legit. Oh never mind, they could do pretty much whatever they wanted to.

If Gwen was so pissed at the oppressiveness of the nineties, she would have definitely shit a brick if she lived in the fifties. Accidentally got knocked up while banging some dude behind the high school? Now you gotta get married soon enough that it looks like it happened during the honeymoon or find some crazy asshole in an alley with a wire hanger to rip the thing out. Those are your choices. Also, no career for you. You gotta stay home and tend to the children, clean, and cook for your husband while he plows prostitutes which you know about but can’t say anything because then you’ll get divorced and be “tainted.”

There’s no way she would stand for that shit. She’d be like, “That’s a total bummer, bro!” and jump kick the dude that told her the halter top she’s wearing is inappropriate in the supper club during the Friday fish fry.

Women in the nineties would have posters of her straddling an armored tank and cut off their pony tails in solidarity. History books would list her as the coolest, most badass female activist of all-time.

Which, I guess is good for us but it sucks for her. Her nasally half-in-tune shouts wouldn’t match up against Ella Fitzgerald or Billie Holliday. Her antics and slang would be so out of touch that everyone would think she’s crazy. She’d live a life of constant annoyance, discomfort, and soul-melting loneliness.

But she shouldn’t be so selfish to take away an extra Bob Dylan activism song, Lesbo chants about her accompanied by some asshole on a conga drum, misquotes from the muscular girls in high school that don’t wear dresses, and a sweet episode of VH1’s Where Are They Now? series. The pain she would suffer herself, does not equal the enjoyment it would bring the world.

No comments:

Post a Comment