Sunday Star-Times

I am woman not a gestationa­l birthing unit and I will roar

- Polly Gillespie

From her office in Sydney, my Russian friend posted on Facebook:‘‘Smekhotvor­nyy!’’, or ridiculous. My friend Sletvana likes to call a lopata a lopata. (A spade a spade).

She may be what they refer to as a ‘‘white’’

Russian in Peaky Blinders. That’s no racial slur. It’s what they called those not ‘‘red’’.

She and I do not always see eye to eye on social issues, but in this case I entirely concur.

‘‘The world has gone nuts. This is Smekhotvor­nyy!

More of this ‘woke’ insane bs. Now saying ‘Hey, guys!’ as a collective term to a group of people regardless of gender, is not ‘inclusive’ enough and is now ‘offensive’.’’

‘‘What? Where? Is this a joke?’’ was my reply to her post. She messaged me. ‘‘Have you seen the Australian university saying you need to call it chest-feeding instead of breastfeed­ing? And gestationa­l parent instead of mum?’’

Below her post, other people were blaming feminism for a world gone mad. I consider myself a feminist, but I’m not giving up my breasts. I’m a feminist that believes feminism is about loving other women and celebratin­g choice, NOT removing their feminine body parts and referring to them as gestationa­l pods.

Maybe we need a war. (Not really).

Humanity has become so ridiculous, only virtually experienci­ng what real hardship felt like has been our narrative, living off faded stories from our grandfathe­rs’ wars.

No tangible understand­ing of what our priorities should be. Believing we’ve evolved simply by digesting our forefather­s’ tales of war via osmosis.

However, our values and priorities cannot, it would seem, remain intact travelling from a higher concentrat­ion (our grandparen­ts) to a lower concentrat­ion (us) through a semi-permeable membrane (osmosis).

And maybe this is how we have landed in this quagmire of ludicrous workplace rules.

This #woke is, instead #whack.

Another dear friend and I were discussing this yesterday. She rolled her eyes as she begged me not to even suggest in my column that we need a war. She wagged her finger and warned me; ‘‘don’t you go all ‘Provocativ­e Polly’ over your tits!’’

I assured her I wouldn’t. I lied. Noone actually wants war to end the extreme diversity department­s’ mad new demands but we certainly need a ‘‘firm skirmish’’.

Chest-feeding? This is like a storyline from a South Park episode, that is apparently playing out in companies and universiti­es around the world. How in God’s (Goddess’s) name did we manage to go from progressiv­e to being so ridiculous­ly politicall­y over corrected?

We are steering this planet in a Toyota Clavia assuming it has the power steering of a Mercedes CML. It’s no surprise then I guess, that we have crashed into a lamppost on the corner of Are You Serious? and Hysteria streets.

Ya zhenzchina. I am woman not a gestationa­l birthing unit, and I will roar ‘‘guys’’. Yes I will roar.

I consider myself a feminist, but I’m not giving up my breasts. I’m a feminist that believes feminism is about loving other women and celebratin­g choice...

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 ?? South Park. ?? Inane political correctnes­s has turned the world into a strange version of
South Park. Inane political correctnes­s has turned the world into a strange version of

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