Pity The Wench. Her father was a cur when he drank, which was often. Her mother lacked fortitude, enduring his rages.

The Wench escaped by attending a prestigious college, where she learned that “womyn” are oppressed. Although desperate to lose her virginity, she walked in Take Back the Night marches, screaming “STOP THE RAPE!” She removed the label from her Guess jeans to protest the company’s sexism (although she didn’t stop wearing the jeans. They fit great!)

Foolish, foolish Wench.

The Wench finished school, married, spawned. Time has gifted her with self-knowledge. The Wench now realizes it was easier to see her mother as a victim of the patriarchy than as a weak woman who failed to fight for her children. And it was easier to see her father as a white male oppressor than as the disturbed person he was.

The Wench is no longer a radical anything. She forgives her parents.

Now, ironically, The Wench finds herself supremely annoyed with her gender. Not always, of course. There are many ladies The Wench adores and finds worthy. Yet she finds an equal number hypocritical, shrill, and/or downright silly. Hence, the birth of her blog, The Spiteful Wench.