Dear Man who read my piece of feminist satire,
Hello again. So great to see you once again graciously patronizing me, a woman who writes, with your presence. Thank you.
Let me begin by saying I’m sorry that you’re so offended. I’m so terribly sorry that you got upset over a joke! I apologize for how you’ve overreacted to my jest.
I worry we’ve soured our relationship over a misunderstanding. You know how it goes — I write something to lightheartedly poke fun at gendered stereotypes, you scream (hysterically) that I’m attacking men. And all over what!
How could I attack men? I, who have not only a father and a brother but also a male cat! Several male friends, too, all of whom would tell you that I’ve never been rude to men, intentionally. I find the male gender deeply beautiful, and needless to say, I’m devastated this didn’t come across in my original pieces.
You claim that I’ve been using my sexuality as currency since the dawn of time? My friend, as a recent college graduate in this economy, I hope you’ll forgive me for using any currency I can! (And surely, some glances must be cast at the buyers of this currency?)
You believe me to be disregarding my own privilege? I assure you, I am very conscious of my privilege and let me just say, I’m going to use that privilege to continue receiving free dinners and many open doors (although only in exchange for my sexual currency).
Yes, my pal, I have read into your overuse of quotation marks telling me that the “male gaze” is “made up” by “feminists” who “want attention.” I am very deeply concerned that you think less of me, simply because I dislike being stared at on my commute!
I’m afraid there’s nothing deeper going on here. No desperate need for additional validation from men. Although, of course, I value and appreciate all the time and effort you put into writing those long, angry, comments that frothed with such fervent…