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I read about half of Flanagan's book, then set it aside in amused disgust. Her ideas are ridiculous, not worth my time, energy or emotion. Yeah, she's a navel-gazing hypocrite. So what. I am not outraged, angry, and I certainly don't feel bad about her value judgments on my brand of feminism. Who cares what she thinks? Not me, not anyone I care about. She's a fool. I don't suffer them, period.
I'm surprised Joan Walsh spends so much ink on Flanagan's drivel. She's worried that feminists 'feel bad' when reading Flanagan? That can only happen if the feminists in question are allowing Flanagan's silliness to dictate their sense of value and self-worth. What self-respecting, *thinking* feminist would do this?
The only appropriate emotion in response to Flanagan is maybe envy that she got a book deal and made money off of her pathetic tropes. Other than, I say, shrug and let her do her thing. The best revenge is to drown her puny voice with a chorus of more reasonable ones - not in a hysterical critique that only serves to further validate her work as worthy of attention, but with essays and books that counter her foolishness with wisdom.
