The Best Part About Having A Daughter Is Using Her As A Human Shield Against Charges Of Sexism
Having a daughter has changed my life in ways that I never could have imagined. When I held Penelope, a feeling of pure joy washed over me. In that moment, I knew in my heart that no matter how poorly I treated women from then on, no one could ever accuse me of being a sexist again without me having a rock-solid alibi.
Being her daddy has opened me up to a whole new world of shaming women for being sexually active. I’ve always been a misogynist loudmouth, but now if anyone calls me on it, I just pull up my daughter’s picture on my phone and it shuts that mess down toot suite. I even have her sonogram on there. Checkmate.
I’m so glad God graced me with this angel. She’s changed me, in that I catcall now.
It may sound corny, but sometimes I just stare at her when she sleeps. It reminds me to be thankful that she’s blonde, because that covers me on bimbo jokes.
I still remember driving home from the hospital, a few hours after Penny was born. I had so many emotions swirling around inside of me, but the most intense was a sense that once I replaced my Twitter egg with a picture of me holding her, it gave me more leeway to send angry tweets to female celebrities I don’t know.
Penelope has made me want to be a better mansplainer.
Don’t get me wrong: Raising a child isn’t easy. Each day brings a new challenge, and you have to be prepared for anything. When Penelope grows up, she might ask why I treat women with such contempt. Because of her I can say, “Don’t judge me. I made a woman.” That ought to shut her up.
Having a son simply hasn’t offered anywhere near that kind of payoff. It’s already acceptable for men to mistreat other men, so bringing her brother Dustin into the world honestly hasn’t done dick for me.
I wish Penelope were black so I could drop N-bombs.