… for my blog policies.
Over at Nine Deuce’s (Rage Against the Man-Chine), people are commenting who do not even know what feminism (much less radical feminism) is or what it means.
Nine is away for a short while and has apparently stopped moderating comments from previously-known commenters for the duration of her vacation, which is why this is going on. (She normally has a comment-mod policy, though she lets in ‘opposing viewpoints’ for the point of picking them apart.) Unlike at other blogs where ‘commenting without even understanding the concepts’ has become the norm, this is not her fault. But it is a good example of why I insist on moderating comments from unknown commenters and wish to keep the discourse at an at least slightly elevated* level.
People don’t have to be Andrea Dworkin, or “have their master’s degree in internet radical feminism” (as I describe myself to people who like to hear important-sounding things when they ask what I do with my life and time), to understand feminism, or to read or comment here. But if I were reading, for example, a paleontology blog written by paleontologists about paleontology, I’d like to at least read the 101s about what paleontology is.
However, there is no one solid concrete way to word much less enforce a policy about this, so, to steal from and paraphrase FABLibber, I will merely say:
Joy at Paleotrees reserves the right to delete, ban, or not approve anyone on a whim.
My blog, my rules.
* We don’t have to be erudite here. Just … at least a little informed. Been working pretty well so far.
Feel free to talk to me all you want about music, though. And speaking of music, from the title of this post, the song that helped me to survive my domestically abusive relationship.
Yes, it is a man, with a man-voice. (If you are not averse to that kind of thing, he is quite the captivating stage performer, and that harmonica is fucking fierce.) But to say the very least, in the situation I was in, I took “the love” he sings about to mean, my love for being alive. And ultimately, that is in fact the love that got me out.