The shiny new tradition of Galantine’s Day, as described by character Leslie Knope of the popular sitcom Parks and Recreation, is a “girls’ morning out”, complete with frittatas, mimosas and thoughtful gifts in gorgeous wrapping. And as always, canny marketers are capitalizing on feminism-themed gifts such as “male tears” coffee mugs, and “The Future is Female” designer laptop bags.
Speaking as a former server who once had to endure the vagaries of Mothers Day—the busiest day of the year, and consistently the least lucrative—I have to condemn this holiday as the paean to privilege that it is.
And yet Galantine’s Day has become the latest celebration de jeure among the elite, well-heeled, educated and persistently intersectionality-oblivious, chattering class of feminists. It’s probably the most stunning example of privileged, cis-heteronormative, neuro-typical, middle class, white feminist insensitivity since the Declaration of Sentiments forgot to even mention female-bodied people who identify as non-binary.
Where is the holiday for agender people, I ask? Or for women who have penises? Or, for that matter, for male identifying persons who retain their vaginas?
Where is the holiday for the mostly working class women and women of color who will be expected to serve these “ladies” their brunch food and fruity spritzers? Where is the celebration of women like me, who due to my atypical personality don’t have female friends to invite anywhere on any day, and who are miserable and anti-social before 1PM? Or for the millions of women who will never be able to take a morning off to attend a party that might fall on a workday?
What about those of us who suck at choosing the perfect gift, or wrapping it in the perfect way? Is this new “holiday” just another opportunity for us to fail? As if Christmas, Valentine’s day, anniversaries, housewarmings, baby showers, weddings and birthdays weren’t opportunity enough. More than this, what about those of us who can’t afford to purchase a dozen gifts for a dozen friends, or to even eat out at a restaurant?
Not to mention all the female identifying people who are gluten, egg, dairy and citrus intolerant. No waffles, omelettes or mimosas for them, even if they’re lucky enough to have friends, be invited, and can afford to take a morning off work and split a huge tab with a bunch of egg-eating drunks!
And what happens if Galantine’s Day happens to fall during Ramadan? What then? Brunch hours are daylight hours, people. Are our Muslim sisters supposed to just sit there and watch the rest of us eat bacon? Or are they supposed to travel to Inuvik in order to be able to join friends in a yearly celebration of womanly solidarity? And what about those of us who are afflicted with anxiety disorders that prevent us from leaving our homes?
Galantine’s day is an elitist, exclusionary, class and race insensitive, white feminist abomination, and anyone with an ounce of humanity should rightly condemn it.
