(December 12, 2013 at 11:01 pm)TaraJo Wrote:(December 12, 2013 at 10:09 pm)pineapplebunnybounce Wrote: So I definitely agree that custody shouldn't favour one side over the other so strongly just because of cultural "norms". But I'm not sure what this has to do with feminism. If we were to point out all the places where women are shortchanged and say men's rights group aren't doing shit for that, that wouldn't really be fair, would it?
In this case, the criticism of feminism that I have is that whenever I mention these topics, I get told "feminism covers that!" but whenever I actually try to talk about those issues in a feminist context, I'm told I'm derailing. You can't have your cake and eat it, too: either feminists are going to have to stop saying they actually talk about mens issues or they're going to have to stop accusing people of derailing when they actually try to talk about them.
The mens groups, for their credit, don't claim to cover womens issues. I can't say I'd know how the guys in those groups would react to someone trying to discuss womens issues, but I'm willing to bet none of them would say "we cover that!"
Just curious, who else here thinks there's something frustratingly ironic about a bunch of upper-middle class, college educated, white, able-bodied, traditionally attractive white girls complaining about how their class is so oppressed and checking everyone else's privilege?
Too agree with you last statement yes. But thats because people like that don't know what tough is like.
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
