A great victory was achieved a couple of months ago by the feminist movement when they banned any kind of face covering in France. Or so they say. Now all those women who – arguably – were forced the wear the niqab are forced to take it off. I guess it’s easier to swap one mandatory thing with another instead of just giving individuals the choice to do what they’ll like.
They do have a choice though: to conform to their new obligation or to try and escape.
French Muslim women in hide, I mean Hyde Park.
Consequently Batman and all the ninjas are forced to show their true colours as well when climbing the Eiffel tower. But for all those feisty amazons who are liberating subjugated women all around the world this surely must be only the tip of the iceberg. As we all know it, it wasn’t the tip of the iceberg that brought down Titanic in the depths of the Atlantic Ocean, and almost a century later in the record books via James Cameron movie.
But hey, let’s take the train for now. I am in London, so let’s say…the Jubilee line. Let’s board a southbound train at Willesden Green. If I recall it correctly, the line is still over ground so you can admire the scenery. (if by any chance it’s not over ground and you are a sucker for starring out the windows you can board at Stanmore, that way you’ll get a glance of Wembley as well.) Or you can get in your train riding attitude and – in the lack of an Ipod or phone or newspaper – stare to the ground. Or, for a change, look around. You can see all kind of people but there is only one type I want to mention now. You see well dressed women, wearing a suit, sitting casually. Take a look at their shoes: horror!!! They wear trainers. Most of them didn’t even bother to wear trainers that are matching in colour with the suit although it’s up to you fashionistas to decide if that would make a difference. As we roll on and pass Westminster, Waterloo and London Bridge stations the number of these women doubles if not triples, especially during the morning peak hours. But then something happens as we leave London Bridge they pull out a plastic bag from their bag –which, naturally is assorted with their suit – which at a first glance seems empty. It’s not though, there is a pair of tiny shoes with heels the size of nails from Jesus’ cross, although these heels are actually real. They slowly take of their comfy trainers and squeeze their feet in these high healed monsters. Then, they leave the train at Canary Wharf. The same routine happens in New York, although the women there switch their sneakers to high healed shoes before exiting at Wall Street. Likewise in Paris, were they remove “le tennis” shortly before arriving in La Défense. These places are just the flag bearers for this phenomenon, but it’s the same everywhere, maybe in a lesser degree. Isn’t there a feisty fighter who could free them from their chains? Is there no one to help them? Or help all the tired women after they spend a hole day getting in-n-out shops in search of a normal bra but all they can find is bra’s that are padded like a bulletproof vest. Not to mention all those poor souls who are forced under the blade to make those happy wrinkles caused by a lifelong laughter disappear. Or those who receive two bags filled with a polymer gel attached to their breasts and there is nothing to hold them in place just a thin layer of skin. The sight of a million of small red dots on their legs after the nice and warm wax layer was ripped of stirs these kind of thoughts as well. I guess there is a cry for help from all those human beings as well who need to get up an hour earlier to make sure that their make up is perfect and to have time to make up their mind about the days outfit. It seems that every woman is forced in some kind of male chauvinism.
Even if they feel it’s their own choice, it’s something they are doing since the day they were brought home by their parents from the hospital in high heels, matching nappies and baby-size padded bras with a touch of make-up under their little eyes. It’s not their choice; it’s something that this male controlled society forced upon them. But now, the first step has been made and surely the fight will go on till the very end. This end can only be one thing: a return to the beginning.
Back to the fig leaf. Or even better, back to the pre-fig leaf period: the Adam and Eve suit. Surely the original sin is gone now and we can go back to being naked again. There is an ongoing battle between scholars whether the original sin was the apple-eating or a full bikini wax, hence the need for the fig leaf to cover not the genitals, but the scrappy work done by the surely inexperienced waxers. Whatever it was, God surely forgave us for that, he forgives sinners, he only hates idiots.
Lately the men lost control of their evil ways and they got suckered in as well, so maybe this fight will be joined by the other half of the world population, surely there is nothing stopping this movement now.
The wheels are in motion, salvation is on its way, so everyone should be brave and all those usurped souls that support this movement should remove one hair less from their eyebrow. This way they could recognize each other and provide support in any means they can. Girl power! Ooh, and of course, boy power! Heck, power all around!!
…and all those sexist lyrics…my oh my, there is so much to do…
Till the break of dawn from Diabolus Dei on Vimeo.
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