Helen Razer has had a rough year. Her relationship dissolved; there is this milestone birthday looming and those damn women claiming to be feminists just WILL NOT do things Helen’s way.
I’ve written about Helen twice before and in my view that is more than enough, so I resisted. I thought of cutting clichés in my head and quickly disposed of them. “No, no, no”, I told myself, “don’t try to lower yourself to her level, it will never work”. The problem is she keeps popping up in the periphery of my social media vision, like that mouldy bread in the pantry you could swear you told the kids to bin two days ago.
Some people seem to reach a certain age and believe they know it all. Not only do they believe they know it all, they think every other person on the planet should believe they know it all too. Fortunately, some of us are older, have lived longer, have more life experience and are way more inclined to roll our eyes in exasperation at the infantile behaviour displayed by this self-appointed paragon of toilet sex than to follow her slatternly gutter-speak with wide-eyed, youthful adoration. “Oh, how daring of her”, the acolytes cry. What, you can’t hear them, you say? I’m not surprised; the numbers are dwindling by the day.
Toilet sex? Good grief, how woefully 70s. I’m not sure what such a disclosure was meant to demonstrate, but what I saw was a kid not picked for the cool team clutching at straws to appear oh so very avant-garde, so “out there” (also a bit 70s). So very I’m not flashing my boobs because I haven’t forgiven nature for the realities of gravity but if I shout about my puberty blues, I can forget I’m middle-aged. Suck it up princess, it doesn’t work like that. Middle-aged women recounting their youthful escapades out of context just sound desperate.
Actually taking up a REAL discussion about grassroots issues affecting real women who never saw the inside of a university and had five kids by twenty-two would be way outside her experience, what with all her highfalutin bourgeois superannuation talk. Rather than devote her considerable (so I am told) intellectual abilities to such worthwhile endeavours, Helen would rather spend her energies spewing unrelenting vitriol at her sisters-in-arms because they decided to have a bit of fun. FUCK! How DARE Jen start anything light-hearted and FUN without first checking with the Goddess of Feminism herself? Helen, get out there and do some hours, a LOT of hours, in a women’s shelter. Spend less time screaming “Look at me, look at me, I’m so wonderful” and more time doing something constructive.
When I first discovered Helen Razer I thought she was great. A real role-model for women. I’ve reached the point with this last episode where I regret the fact she ever managed to swallow a dictionary and a thesaurus in one gulp and wish she would stop undermining the battle for gender equality. Helen is not constructive. If any reader can illustrate to me how this venomous tirade of abuse is constructive, I’ll be very surprised.
As for her opinion piece in the Guardian, I suggest you read it yourself, but only AFTER you have read Jennifer’s original fun, frivolous call for the convoy of cleavage that got international press coverage (other links are on Jen’s article, next link). Jennifer’s own response can be found at So our Convoy wasn’t feminist? Bite me, baby.
A parental afterthought – please stop calling each other “bitches”. You are just popularising the images from rap songs which glorify mistreatment of women. Parents battle to teach their sons to respect women and this undermines all our hard work.