I shame the matriarchy

Here is a comment I wrote on Pandagon. Not sure if it's at all significant but I kind of dug it. It was fun to write. I thought I'd share:

from The Quotable Delphyne:

"“Radical” in radical feminism means going to to the root i.e. examining the roots of women’s oppression - male supremacy."

But disagreement about the nature of those roots shouldn't knock a girl out of the radical feminist tree, and too frequently it does just that.

I mean, to stretch a metaphor from the sublime to the ridiculous - is the root a taproot, long and solid and singular like a dandelion's? is it a great spreading network like an oak's? a tangled mat like grass?

What if we assemble an army of women, all armed to the teeth with shovels and rakes and implements of destruction of all sorts, from silver spoons to jackhammers to dynamite to clamshells, everyone bringing the very best, sharpest, diggingest tool they can get their hands on, and get all psyched up to attack the root, dig it up, yank it out, annihilate it -

"Excuse me, your jackhammer is really noisy and the exhaust is killing those other plants."

"WHAT? WHAT? I CAN'T HEAR YOU! I'M OPERATING A JACKHAMMER!"

"Had you considered what that dynamite will do to the endangered Hubblebank's Spotted Parakeet population?"

"Look - do you want this root out or not?"

"Hey! Get your shovel off my foot!"

"Oh, don't be such a baby. Get your foot out of my way!"

"say, what's gonna happen when those roots die and this tree falls down on our heads?"

"tree? what tree? we're not uprooting that tree - we're uprooting these vines! what are you wasting your time uprooting a tree for? jeez that's stupid..."

"I don't know; I thought we were working on that tree too..."

"oh, yeah, like you'd know what you were doing with that stupid silver spoon."

"It was good enough for my grandmother..."

"your grandmother stole it from my grandmother. that's why I'm digging with this plastic spork >sigh<"

"dude, you stepped on my clamshell!"

etc. ad naus.

And what if the really crazy thing is that if we all just put down our tools, grabbed the thing and pulled real hard on the count of three, maybe it would just surrender itself from the earth and we'd all go sprawling and tumbling in a big sweaty heap, and then we could all go home.

Ok - clearly that got out of hand. But it's not useful to ignore the fact that there is NO CONSENSUS as to what constitutes the roots of male supremacy, such as exists.