Deputy Prime Minister Paula Bennett has revealed that she is a feminist “most days”. And isn’t that enough
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The revelation that Deputy Prime Minister Paula Bennett is a feminist “most days” may have you confused.
“What is a most days feminist?” you might be wondering. “Who are these bewilderingly busy women, with lives so hectic that their ideology ebbs and flows like the waves lapping on a beautiful beach?”
To give some insight into this mysterious phenomenon, here’s an excerpt straight from the diary of a most days feminist.
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Monday:
6 AM: Up bright and early. Time to go for a run! I’m working on my bikini body - but not for anyone else, just for myself! I’m a modern woman and I’m not out to impress anyone.
3 PM: I go to a meeting at work. My boss asks me to bring the coffees and I bristle. I’m a member of the team like everyone else! He registers my dismay and goes to get them himself. Smashing the patriarchy one beverage at a time.
Tuesday:
11 AM: Another busy day at work, I barely have time to think! I pop down to the shop for a flat white and am nearly accosted by homeless woman asking for change. Probably getting the benefit for god knows how many children too. The nerve.
8 PM: Go home and have a vino on the couch and listen to some Taylor Swift. She’s such a badass these days! #Squadgoals, am I right?
Wednesday:
9 AM: Spot Art Green at Next Gen playing tennis. Great bod but can’t get behind the Bachelor as an idea - like a harem! And all those women competing, isn’t this 2016?
7 PM: I meet up with my lovely boyfriend Shane. Shane is having some trouble at work right now, some floozy secretary reckons he felt her up at the Christmas party. Now Shane is a lad’s lad and partial to an off colour joke or two but I know he wouldn’t look at another woman twice. Dumb slut just wants attention. We split the bill even though he earns twice my wage. I’m no gold digger!
Thursday:
12 PM: My sister calls as I’m heading to Barrefigure. Her babysitter bailed and she wants to know if I can look after little Banjo while she meets with her lawyer (poor thing is going through a horrible divorce). I feel a flash of pity but tell her unfortunately I’m all tied up. Childcare is a big responsibility and she will learn nothing if I keep bailing her out. Plus her problems are no reason for me to be in lousy shape.
Friday:
4 PM: What a week! Time for some self-care. I pop into Smith and Caughey’s to pick up some necessities for tonight’s beauty binge. A woman wearing hijab is waiting behind me in the cosmetics counter queue and I titter internally: “Does her husband even let her wear makeup? Why bother?”
Saturday:
1 PM: Lunch at SPQR with the girls. I’ve barely had time for them lately and our catchup is well overdue. Jules has put on so much weight I honestly don’t know how Martin stands it. No wonder he cheats on her constantly. Lizzy has too many wines and I think she might have a drinking problem which we all giggle about after she leaves.
Sunday:
11 AM: Shane is kindly letting me accompany him to the tip, so I put on my nicest sundress. He wolf whistles at a (rather plain) girl as we drive and barely says a word to me but I don’t nag. Shane hates it when I nag. I do, however, draw the line as Kanye West comes on the radio. These rappers are such misogynists!
7 PM: We celebrate! Shane’s slutty secretary has dropped her complaint after an office-wide shunning initiative concocted by Shane and his five closest co-workers. Clever thing, though I suppose it doesn’t hurt that they’re all on the board. In any case it's the last we’ll be hearing from her. We toast, and as my sav hits his craft beer, I feel pretty darn lucky. My mother and grandmother and descendants before may have learned to live in the gutter, but not I.
I’m a strong independent woman. I’m living in a country where there are no boundaries. I’m getting on and being busy. And isn’t that the most empowering thing of all?
