I won’t even try and pretend that I grew up to be the kind of crusading feminist that Linda might have hoped for. In fact, I have it out for the vast majority of my fellow females because they have a tendency to annoy the shiz out of me.
But I woke up this morning hung over and suffering from a head cold I caught from sharing one too many daiquiris with MOMMY in Captiva. Since there was only a single page of weddings in the NYT, the crossword sucked, and I had no interest in getting out my bathrobe, I resorted to skimming Snag’s latest issue of GQ and happened to flip to one of those ubiquitous DC Power Lists. For context, click here for a quick read onto the serioso garbage the frittatas at GQ are putting out.
Now, I may be a liberal DC-residing daughter of the president of the Rivertowns League of Women Voters, but it doesn’t take a genius to realize that this is some seriously offensive journalism. Naturally, I added GQ to my shit list and vowed to see to their demise. And then I sent the editor the following diatribe. Sorry I’m not sorry.
When GQ publishes articles about Hollywood sex symbols, dating how-to’s, and whatever other male-version-of-Cosmopolitan drek you use to sell ad space, I could care less about the unabashed chauvinist overtones imbuing each and every one of your magazine’s pages. I get it: GQ is on-the-toilet reading for the Rodney Ruxins of the world, not the Economist. And sure, the girly magazines are just as guilty of objectifying the opposite sex.
But do us all a favor and don’t sell your DC Who’s Who from the February issue as a list of men and women who matter in our nation’s capital when it’s crystal clear that the only individuals “whose decisions actually matter” in the eyes of GQ possess XY chromosomes.
I find it hard to believe that 10 females in a list of 50 public figures are representative of the actual influence of women in Washington. Did I mention that two of those women are included merely because they each make up half of a “power couple,” and that three of them are party planners? We’re talking about the city of Valerie Jarrett, the eyes, ears, and conscience of the leader of the free world; Elena Kagan and Sonia Sotomayor, who are shaping jurisprudence for the next fifty years or more; Samantha Power and Susan Rice, whose combined influence on the prevention of a Libyan genocide is incalculable; Christine Lagarde, who is working each and every day to prevent a full-fledged global depression; and oh, that Michelle Obama woman. And yet I find myself reading about three hotties whose claims to fame include organizing a cocktail bash for Candace Bushnell.
Seriously though, did anyone really need to know that someone nicknamed our nation’s White House Counsel “the Prosecutrix?” I shudder at the thought that your editors are not just criminally tone deaf. Shameful.