Feminism is the radical notion that women are people.


“Feminism” is an Australian term that typically refers to the radically inert minds of the people and women who use it. Whether uttered in spite by incels or as praise at a finance sector lunch, “feminism” conveys little more than the era’s general refusal to refine a tricky set of incompatible ideas into an actual concept.

Sure, the arrangement of thought is hard and noble work. But the arrangement of these words “feminism is a broad church” is a common crime. I will punish it harshly the minute I am crowned as feminist queen.

Seriously. Why don’t you all just yell, “feminism is the word I use to get me on telly” then shut up about the thing? I can’t take another shouty panel show in which feminism is typecast so narrowly. She must be more than (a) the traumatised virgin we worship or (b) Satan’s dirty whore.  I need some peace, and so does she. So does any person (or woman) yet to walk with the mentally and politically undead.

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Feminism matters to me because I am ruddy sick of writing a rational account that is received at publication by several versions of that old-time hit: “Are you on your periods?” Feminism matters to me because I hope for a future in which my written labour does not invite “Are you on your menopause?” until my day of death. Also, there was that one time when the explicitly gendered cruelty of a bloke by the name of [REDACTED] turned me from secure employment and toward the shrink forever.

But it’s not about me and my professional success now, is it? I would much prefer that it were as I could then return to the well-paid work from which [REDACTED] drove me. I could look down the Q&A lens at least 10 times a year and say, “you are not a feminist ally if you refuse to buy my book”. I could make a profitable case for the leadership of Hillary Clinton for almost a dollar a word.


Hillary has cared about feminism deeply all her life as was evident with her sudden revelation of this fact at the time of her presidential run. Since at least 2015, she has tirelessly reminded us that she is a feminist and that only a feminist could tip this bad old world into an eternal age of kindness.

The feminism of non-Western origin was not down with this view. It was like they had some problem with powerful role models. Fortunately, white Australian feminism continued to care for the feminist who saved the people of Libya from the crushing boot rule that brought them the highest living standards of a continent. This was no crime. It was an equal opportunity triumph of US foreign policy in which the lady slaughtered both men and women. #ImWIthHer

The great feminist liberator Hillary Clinton.



Just shut up and think, FFS.

The longer and louder you mad twits bang on about “feminism”, the greater the chance that I will finish my book on the topic. Which will be very widely distributed by me to all at no cost.

This act will be due to my virtue and commitment as a feminist. If you have heard that four major Australian publishers have already rejected my half-written work of genius, this is (a) only true ‘til Monday when I expect to receive a fifth, and (b) has nothing to do with the matter at hand or the fact that I am on my periods while writing.

The rejection note we feminists receive when we truly ask “What is feminism?” is essentially the same. One of mine said “mansplaining”. One of my mate’s said “too few stories about how you feel as a Muslim woman and too many about that system racism whatever thing you learned at fancy school”. They’re stupid confessions of fear.

They are right to be afraid. The minute the Western feminist looks to the crimes of the present is the minute their future is eclipsed.



Only when you have read this important essay and submitted your report can I assess your readiness to move beyond feminist trifling.