All Comments on 'Feminist with a Penis'

Just one thing, the clitoris is the counterpart of the penis, not the foreskin. The clitoris is essentially a penis in compact form, made of the same erectile tissue as the male organ. Most of that tissue is internal, and only the small tip of it protrudes outside the body. Therefore, a man's foreskin is comparable to the hood of the clitoris, not the clitoris itself.

I don't fault you for this misconception. I've read that the average size of a woman's clitoris is about the size of a pencil eraser, if it's visible at all. With dimensions like that, it's easy to see why a man would think the clitoris is just another fold of skin. But if you someday come across a woman with a large or unhooded clitoris, you'll see the similarities between it and a man's penis.

Besides that, a very entertaining read!

Sir, with all due respect, I find your article ridiculous. I am a young woman, and yes, a card carrying feminist, but your utter lack of respect for the wonderful organ between your legs and your masculine nature appalls me.

Frankly, feminism was necessary. Absolutely, no doubt about it, but as time has progressed, the movements that were progressive have become backwards. Feminism has morphed from being a movement to empower and ensure women’s equality to putting men down and trying to turn the tide of discrimination around on them, at least, insofar as belittling and degrading can be a medium for discrimination.

An example of this discrimination is convincing men to feel guilty for being men, just as in times gone by and as sometimes still occurs, men used to do to women. Simply put, this is wrong. As a woman and a feminist, I cannot endorse such a philosophy. To do so, would be sinking to the level of past patriarchal domination.

The original meaning, the original goal of feminism was to empower women and gain equality and equity for them. Now the goal of many feminist organizations has become to smear men’s faces in shit. Truly, a woman who calls herself a feminist should encourage men to be men, to be masculine, as long as that love of one’s masculinity does not turn into the tyranny it was and has been, or become a tool against woman to belittle and degrade her.

But, likewise, a man should encourage a woman to love her femininity and respect her as the female creature she is, but again, woman must return this respect by not turning around and slapping a man in the face by doing to him what has historically been done to women: belittlement and degradation.

With that said, I love men. Love them. From the way their voices are deeper, sometimes rumbling in their chests when they press me close to them and let me hear their heartbeat. To the way they can lift ridiculously heavy objects women cannot sometimes. I love the way their spines are straight, and erect. I love the muscles and contours of their arms, bellies, and chests. I love watching their biceps and shoulder blades flex. I love the bristling hairs on their chins when they go a day without shaving. I love their protectiveness, I love it when they are intellectual and artistic and all at once masculine. The way his wit does battle with mine, the way he fights me every step of the way and appreciates my battling back in a show of intelligence and wit. I love discussing academics with men, they put an edge to it because of the fact that they are men, their minds work slightly different from women’s and it thrills me to have him making me do mental back flips. I love it when there are sparse hairs on their chests, I love watching a man sweat as he shows off for me, I love letting my eyes trail down that glorious, gorgeous trail of hair that begins right under their navels and descends under the waistband of their jeans and boxers.

It excites me to think of him thinking of me watching him because I know he was watching me. It gets me ready to know that he was watching me because the beautiful, exquisite organ between his legs has began to grow and swell against the confines of his boxers because it so desperately wants to be buried inside of me. That the sway of my hips, the slight motion of my petite breasts can make him rock his hips like he was already with me.

I. Love. Men. They are wonderful human beings and without them, this world would be so less stimulating of course, sexually, sensually, but above all, intellectually, and spiritually.

is very accomplished. I have read several of your essays at this point, and your thought processes and the expression of them is most engaging. I like the way that you question the status quo, and discuss views of our understanding and expressions of reality. Thoughtful and thought-provoking indeed.

You are under a spell and I urge you to find your way out. You don't have to hate yourself. Feminism is a sickness. It does not stand for equality. It is a smoke screen for an evil ideology of hate and violence. It is pure hypocrisy. Your empathy has been used against you. Please, wake up from your nightmare!