By Colby Malsbury
Simone de Beauvoir, the lesbian Stalinist who bedded Jean-Paul Sartre whenever there was nothing sufficiently sapphic around for her liking, once said ‘one is not born, but rather becomes a woman.’ Even in such a pithy statement, we can perceive the special kind of tyranny that the female is especially capable of, and culpable for – not as a mere agent of ‘destiny’, whatever that might mean, but as an active participant in and, if not a creator, then a domineering influencer of said destiny, all done for everyone else’s good and not as a vulgar patriarchal power grubber, of course. If the squeaky wheel gets the grease, then the squeaking caterwauling of feminism has garnered its denizens an entire chain of Minit Lube franchises over the past century.