Fembot depression



My Fembot power took a battering over the weekend when I read the Observer’s special Women’s issue. Those rape conviction stats were about the most disheartening thing I’ve read in a while and by the time I got to the comments from a young British decathlete about how she was empowered by wearing fake tan at the Beijing Olympics, I was just despairing about the plight of the feminist cause against the particularly virulent strand of conservative postfeminism which Britain is currently steeped in.
Two things have saved me from my own depression though…
Firstly, Sarah Haskins: boy oh boy this lady gives me hope, she’s fucking awesome – check out her yoghurt schtick, priceless.
Secondly, I’ve been listening to Le Tigre’s album Feminist Sweepstakes – holy crap talk about excellent, fembot lyrics, like this song ‘FYR’ (which stands for Fifty Years of Ridicule):
“Feminists we’re calling you. Please report to the front desk. Let’s name this phenomenon. It’s too dumb to bring us down.”
Dyke March 2001 is also a great great song, I listened to it this morning as I walked past a KitKat billboard that read: ‘165 calories, A Gift for All Women’. Fuck off Nestle.



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