Dear Scorch Magazine: I Do Not Need Your Male Opinions About My Female Body. (In Which I Fail To Not Swear)


Anyone who knows me or has paid a lick of attention to this blog in the last month or so knows that I am no friend of Miley Cyrus. The woman is obliviously racist, willfully obtuse and completely ignorant. And that doesn't even take into account the fact that she spent yesterday shaming two women for their mental health issues. So no, Miley and I are not bosom buddies.

But you see this shit?

I DO NOT NEED YOUR MALE OPINIONS SCORCH MAGAZINE, NOR DO I WANT THEM.

And I'm no stranger to calling out misogynistic Trinidadian men on their shitty interpretations of gender relations. I've already cussed out a radio DJ and a friend of a friend. There's nothing new about this asinine explanation of events. But it's still insidious, so I guess I'll go lace up my patriarchy smashing boots.

This "article" is full of slut-shaming, body-shaming, concern trolling, gender essentialist, patriarchal bullshit. I do not need to read that. I have spend the last few years actively rejecting that kind of limited thinking. So since this appears to be "think of the children" week, I'll think of the children, and demonstrate, graf by graf, why all of this is nonsense.

*Laces boots*

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