Look, you’d have to be either deaf or complicit to deny that so much of Hillary-hatred is shaded with misogyny, with a deep discomfort from seeing a powerful woman on the path to getting more power.
Donald Trump is not an idiot. He is not an entertainer, or a carnival barker, he’s not a TV star running a tongue-in-cheek protest-experiment-as-campaign.
Writers are fond of saying that they write out of necessity. That’s probably true, and often for one of two reasons: 1) You find your own thoughts so increasingly panic-inducing that you need to give them form and expunge them on the page, or 2) You find your own thoughts so exceedingly beautiful that you feel like other people should really be sharing these moments with you (and maybe even paying you for them).
Pussy Riot galvanized the former Soviet-empire’s disparate youth movements to rally as one body.
By turning Brown and Rihanna into easily digestible tropes for our own over-consumption, rather than recognizing them as complex individuals deserving of our compassion, we robbed ourselves of an opportunity to have a dignified discussion of the nature of abuse.