I grew up where feminism was the plague. I was taught against it. Yet I am a Feminist (to the horror of some people) and proud of it. Sometimes one grows up to think for herself.

Oh, very late reply, but—

I don’t consider it a privilege to be drafted into the service of other people’s ego needs, which is how it feels when people respond to me on the basis of my appearance. I’m generally nice to people, and I do notice the ways that people are nicer to me than they might be to the person waiting in line behind me, but when so many men and women you meet respond to you as if you’re this thing that is both appealing and threatening, and from which they almost invariably want something, that ain’t no privilege, girlfriend. It’s a fucking job.

the pretty penalty is real, is sucks as much as the fat penalty. IBtP of course, i suppose you could say that it’s ruthless and efficient in finding ways to keep women of all shapes and forms down. sherri tepper once wrote about how the pretty penalty is when men take a little piece of you away with them every time they leer, killing you slowly with a thousand cuts. if being fat means being on the receiving end of being mean, being pretty is being denied the right to be mean, indeed, even to have agency. you are assumed to care about the sexual desires of strangers, the insecurities of others. i have learned to glower effectively enough to prevent the more foolish who would tell me “smile!” because they believe i am somehow responsible for adorning everyone else’s day with titillation and beauty. it is somewhat depressing to realize that regardless of how sincere i am in my lack of interest or anger, some men will always see this as merely some step in a game ending in their sexual gratification (”she’s a challenge/playing hard to get”).

I think this global warming analogy has gone too far. My heart goes out to you all for taking on so much responsibility for your oppression. On some level, I think it makes us feel better to think that we have some control over patriarchy, that what we do makes a difference.

In fact, whether you smile at the deli guy and get extra pastrami or you frown and get less makes no difference at all to the institution of patriarchy which will fuck you over at some point no matter what you do.

I’d better be ready to rely on something other than pretty to get me by, and the time for that is now. Playing the hawt chick game will just leave women losing no matter what, so I try to be conscious of it and not play by those rules whenever I can.

But I don’t think the privilege goes away just because you try not to use it. Other people’s reactions are still there. You can avoid taking advantage of their responses, but there’s an innate privilege granted that you can’t shake. It’s like being white, or being from a developed country, or many other things. But you can be aware of how those privileges work and try to minimize the imbalance.

Dawn, I think that the pretty privilege stuff happens in a different way. What you describe above is a perfect example of how much it stinks to be a woman, and how every man feels perfectly entitled to stare at you, make comments about you, etc. I think the privilege part comes in in a different way. I’m trying to think of an example from my life.

Ok, this is dumb, but when I go to the corner pizza place, I’m very aware that I am youngish (30) and female. I don’t get harassed, but they are extra nicey to me or maybe try to make a joke or something. It’s not gross at all, but I’m aware of how I act in that situation, and I find myself being more smiley and nicey and girly, in response to their treatment.

I think mearl has it right on- because I’m just feeding into this bs, and someday it’s going to bite me on the ass. I’m showing them that I AM just a girly girl, a silly woman who giggles and smiles and stuff.