Oh, Anne Coulter.
You’d like me to hate you. I’m just the kind of woman you want to seethe with rabid hatred for you so that you can point and say “see??? I try to talk sense and these crazy femi-Nazis hate me- they can’t tolerate anyone who doesn’t buy their agenda.” I won’t even start a discussion about your brand of “sense” because as my Grandmother would say, there’s no use arguing with the once-born. I will say this, though:
I don’t hate you, Anne. I wish I could. Then I could write you off and just spit when I heard your name.
Truth is, I feel for you.
Here’s the thing, I don’t buy it. I don’t buy you- the whole act. You’ve tried to sell us on the idea that you’re frustrated and furious with the idiocy of liberals and feminists and other evil-doers. You’ve ranted long and hard about how unhappy you are with us and with our ways. You, a woman by all reports, have publicly asserted that women are “not that smart” and that we just don’t understand the first thing. And that you’re what all women would be, were they smart and practical and came to the sweet conservative light.
Sorry, sweetie. As they say down here, you’re sellin’, but I ain’t buyin’. I mean, you’re obviously angry. And bitter. And cold. From the hardened angle of your face to your vitriolic speech, you’re the human equivalent of a cactus. That part is legit, I’m sure.
But I don’t buy the why.
The first time I saw you on television, all I could think was “Dear Lord… that poor woman is miserable!” You may hate feminist, liberal women, but it’s not for our lack of sense. It’s for our comfort level with our selves. It’s for our happy lives and relationships. It’s for our kinship with one another. It’s for the sense of purpose and rightness we have even though the reigning political regime finds us contemptible.
I think, Ms. Coulter, that sometime early in your life, you quickly realized that you weren’t going to meet the plastic standard for Barbie-doll beauty. And you realized that you didn’t have the heart it takes for deep, happy meaningful relationships. And you realized that while you were smart, you weren’t any genius. And instead of trying to find some positive, productive use for the talents you DO have, you got very very angry.
I think, too, that it was about this time in your life that you realized most of the power in this society lay with a group of white, privileged men spouting simplistic moral platitudes. And I think you realized you wanted a piece of that power- whatever little bit they would grant you for preaching their revised Gospel. And I think in your insecurity, you truly craved the approval you got from them when you did it. And instead of being angry at those men for loving you only conditionally and for using you as a token to advance their own cause, you got angry at the women who were strong enough, confident enough, brave enough to fight those men.
So I don’t buy it, Anne. I don’t think for a minute that deep down in your heart you really believe all those hate-addled things you say about other women. I think those are lies you tell yourself to justify how you’ve spent your life and to comfort yourself about the things you weren’t brave enough to be. And I know that you’re frightened every day that your anti-woman-neo-Nazi-conservatives will abandon you the moment you don’t endorse their party line with enough zesto. And then you will be alone.
Ultimately, you’re an just an insecure needy woman so desperate for approval that you will turn on women everywhere. You’re the girl in high school who would leave her best friend hanging on a moment’s notice if that arrogant football player called. You’re the woman in the board room who will vote down the maternity leave policy to side with the chauvinist CEO. And when that football player never calls back or that CEO fires you, you blame the player’s prior girlfriends or other women executives for “ruining it for you.”
You don’t scare me, Anne. And I don’t hate you. But I know what you need- some good true women friends.
You won’t have to hate anyone for us to love you.