I try really hard not to be a feminist stereotype. I'm very adamant in my beliefs, but I try my damnedest to be patient and to teach Feminism 101 to anyone who asks questions or politely disagrees with me out of innocent ignorance.
But I can't compromise my values just to be agreeable.
Sometimes, this means I'm a humorless feminist.
Frankly, I don't give a damn.
Several weeks ago, Beau's brother and sister-in-law did their own version of a Thanksgiving with friends. It was nice because the group invited was a mix of people I'd met before and new people. It's important for me to get to know Beau's friend circle since I'll be living in his small town eventually, away from all of my friends in the city.
Dinner was a lot of fun, and conversation flowed as freely as the alcohol. The smoked turkey was HEAVENLY. As we wrapped up dinner, we started discussing games we could play. One couple had brought Cards Against Humanity with them, and they were really persuasive in playing that. I did my best to rally two other people to play euchre with Beau and me, to no avail.
I have never played Cards Against Humanity, but Lauren and Hardy have both told me not to play it.
With a group of people I barely know, I couldn't just confront them about their horrible choice in board games. So I did the next best thing and quietly went upstairs to watch Star Trek: Deep Space Nine with Beau while they laughed about marginalized peoples: racial minorities, rape survivors, victims of public shootings, etc.
We came back downstairs after one episode to eat dessert. I had hoped that the game was over, but alas. Just listening to one round while I ate my apple pie almost made me start crying. I was literally blinking back tears as they read off cards about gang rape and child molestation.
I blogged once about joking about difficult subjects. When done well, rape jokes can be both hilarious and healing.
The rape jokes, and the racist jokes, and the tragedy jokes in Cards Against Humanity are not done well, and they do not offer any healing.
I hope to maybe one day be good enough friends with these people that I can explain to them why I'm so disappointed (and aghast, and shocked, and disturbed by) their choice in a board game. I hope that I can figure out a way to explain this to them in such a way that they don't automatically dismiss me as hysterical or overreacting.
Until then, I will be the humorless feminist who refuses to use my position of privilege to mock those without it.