So fuck you, MRAs. Fuck you for showing up every time women speak, especially about rape and abuse, and trying to make it all about you. Fuck you for derailing threads about the victims of Marc Lépine, a man who screamed about his hatred for feminists as he murdered fourteen women and injured many others, because you also hate feminists and want a fucking cookie for not killing anyone. Fuck you for making rape and death threats against young women who dared to protest a speaking engagement by a man who thinks little girls would enjoy being raped by their fathers if it weren’t for society telling them it’s dirty. Fuck you for whining about how unfair it is that women might wonder if you’re a rapist when you approach them out of nowhere, while completely ignoring how unfair it is that women feel the need to be on guard all the time in public. Or that if we relax and behave normally—drinking, dancing, dressing however we want—you will be the first motherfuckers in line to blame us for getting ourselves raped.
Fuck some of you for being so contemptuous of women, you don’t even believe in convicting rapists. Fuck all of you for doing your very best to propagate myths that make it harder for women to be safe—that we’re a bunch of lying temptresses who bang hapless men and file bogus rape charges for the lulz, for instance, or that we get into perfectly even fights with our hardworking, loving husbands, then call the cops and have them arrested because we’re spiteful bitches. Fuck you for blaming women, feminists, the legal system, and men who aren’t misogynistic assholes for your own inability to relate to other human beings in appropriate ways.