I woke up this afternoon feeling so strange. It’s not my room, it’s not my bed, and nothing feels familiar. My family isn’t here, and suddenly there’s a man, my husband, sharing my personal space for the first time. I don’t even know how to explain it, but I feel like an impostor just walking around and doing things in this place.
If a woman is beaten by her husband would it be sexist to call her an abused wife?
Would it be racist to say “so and so was a victim of a hate crime”?
I didn’t commit the crime, I just pointed it out.
You didn’t call her a wife, you called her an animal.
No, I said this situation sounds less like growing up and more like being a pet.
That’s called simile, a figure of speech that directly compares two different things to highlight a shared quality.
It’s easier to argue with me than to have some introspection on the type of language you choose when talking about women.
I don’t understand why you’re projecting that on me.
I’ve explained my position and I stand behind it and that’s all I can do.
Like I said, I think she’s a victim, and I’m sorry for her situation. My wife considers me a feminist and that’s all the validation I need. You can choose to believe what you want.
Waking the walk and talking the talk are two separate things.
Maybe resist comparing women to animals in the future, Mr. Feminist.