An affront to their involuntarily celibate ways!
This future we live in is a wonderful place, don’t you think? Sure there are wars and rumors of wars but there is also Internet accountability in the form of websites that exist solely to hold misogynists’ feet to the fire. The wayback machine, Apple News, Google Cache etc. If you happened to be following along this morning you’ll remember how I wept openly about missing out on a The Inertia piece on empowering women that was ruthlessly erased. I wondered why?
Are the editors at Venice-adjacent’s other favorite water lifestyle website incels? Could they be?
The answer, assuredly, is yes. For thanks to six of you I have been sent the disappeared story and it sings. Please read in its entirety here and find my favorite lines below.
In a sea of fifty or so middle-aged men from Japan, Israel, Europe, and Australia, there was enough male pattern baldness to rival the Trump administration.
When one guy paddled right past me and back up to the peak after taking a set wave? Yes. You’re damn right I dropped in.
It’s not as much an issue of respect, I find, as it is an assertion of belonging. It’s an expression of being a woman in the sea; that despite the barriers that stand in our way, we will remain powerful, as women of the waves.
You think I’m wrong for dropping in? You think I should wait my turn? You think I should follow the status quo of surfing etiquette?
Trust me. I’ve waited. Any woman in the ocean on a day with decent size, like today, has unquestionably waited her turn. We’ve waited in lineups that make us cry, on days when only the boldest among us would dare drop in.
We’ve waited while our brothers of the sea ogle our bodies and objectify the skin we surf in.
We’ve waited while aggro kooks drop in far too deep, knowing they’ll never make the section, all while we’re in the perfect position just a little farther down the line. All this because they would rather take a heavy lip to the face than back off and let a woman enjoy her ride.
Fuck you. We’ve waited. So you think I should wait my turn?
I think you should wait one goddamn second and tell me what it feels like to be the only woman at the peak in a lineup of fifty middle-aged men in swollen seas and heavy winds, 10,711 miles from home. Let me know how that tastes on your tongue.
Then you tell me to wait my turn.
I’m done waiting.
And I only wish the involuntarily celibate men who run The Inertia would have had as many guts as this author here to leave it up.