Why Won’t All These Male Feminist Allies Agree To Call Me Your Majesty?


Guest blog by Bronwyn Isaac

With the concept of feminism trending in the media, a large amount of men have come around to wave the feminist banner. While the cause certainly needs allies to succeed, I’m still sitting here in my bathrobe wondering why these male feminist “allies” won’t agree to call me Your Majesty?

All I want is for women to stop getting systemically raped and abused, underpaid and constantly held to double standards. But also, right now, I’d love for some male feminist allies to come rub my feet in rose extract and coo in my ear, “Your Majesty, would you like young Frederick to do another strip tease for you while we talk about how earth-shattering your Tori Amos cover was?” Why won’t any of my so-called “allies” get down to doing the real work for justice?

I understand that much of allyship involves talking to other men, using male privilege to boost female voices and, of course, listening to women. Soooo, where is the line of male allies lining up to call me Your Majesty while I talk about how bad my ex-boyfriend’s tattoos were? Why aren’t the men valiantly posting on Facebook ready to scrub the dead skin off my feet while telling me how great my collage of Tom Cruise is?

I understand that political dialogue is necessary for change, but I’d appreciate more allies who are ready to drape me in silk while asking what is the secret to my great skin.

Most men still have a long way to go in order to become better allies to women. Even the best of them have to unlearn cultural and personal misogyny, while being willing to take correction and self-reflect. But honestly, I’d prefer that more male feminist allies reflect on my radiance and day-to-day ways they can exalt my dominance. Perhaps they could dedicate a modest, but well-constructed statue in my honor? Or a batch of them could murder the man who rejected me in college because he “had a girlfriend” and I had “broken into his house.”

A lot of women are waiting for access to healthcare, livable wages and the safety to walk alone at night and sure–that’d be cool. But for me personally, I could really use the support of a loyal cadre of male feminist allies who exclusively refer to me as Your Majesty and are forbidden from wearing shoes as penance for their crimes. Now, more than ever.

Bronwyn Isaac deserves this.

Image by Pexels.
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Bronwyn Ariel Isaac is a retired bridge troll who currently resides in laundromats all over Chicago (primarily Pilsen/Little Village). She attended The School of the Art Institute of Chicago for writing right before the United States fully transformed into a bad 1950s sitcom. You can occasionally spot her in public telling edgy puns, reading poetry/essays out loud, pretending to do stand up comedy, and pouring out the remaining crumbs of her soul to complete strangers.