I write this blog because I want other women to read it, yet I find that most of my commenting readership is men. I guess that makes sense; my main subject matter is acerbic femininity, and that’s probably more fascinating to men who have little understanding of femininity on any level than it is to women who know what this is like already. Perhaps some people view this as a documentation of toxic femininity, but the intention is to demystify the potential extrapolations of what being a woman can ultimately add up to. Our lives are our expression of femininity, and in attempting to diverge from the typical framework of what a woman is supposed to be, we come across certain stumbling blocks. The pictures that are painted aren’t always pretty, and that’s because it is a realist depiction, not a Disney fixation on the finer aspects of what a woman can amount to. It might be fascinating to watch, and it’s certainly fascinating to live it, but it’s also difficult to live in this crashing car, being engulfed by flames and still trying to say that this experience is beautiful. Perhaps Fuck Feast doesn’t appeal to women because we don’t really get off on watching each other fail in the name of fucking. But men do.