Dearest Reader,
It is well understood that the ever-mighty marching feet of the feminist movement have traversed a long and unsteady ground throughout the preceding decades. The victories of suffrage and legal gender equality long behind us, the most noble endeavour has fallen to our generation’s finest and brightest to find new enemies, and to defeat them. This they have now done long and proudly, but be not complacent, dearest reader! That selfsame abhorrent scourge whose heel first ground unthinkingly the high-minded spirit of the feminist cause remains rooted deeply, as some noted writers have recently observed, in the heart of Camosun’s own society.
I write, of course, of the den of inequity which remains in the form of the vast majority of the college’s bathrooms. To be sure, a handful of our establishments of bodily relief have been liberated from the gender binary, by the hand of our ever-ready social soldiers, but is this yet sufficient? Surely, logic must follow, that any reference to the supposed existence of one gender or another must first be expunged from our society, should we hope to achieve true equality.
Our war will be a bitter one, I concede, and a venture not won but for the valiant fighting spirit of our legions of iron-hearted soldiers, amongst whom the only sexual orientation accepted is justice. We shall begin the new campaign with an assault upon what enemy-occupied territories remain, sending our troops of either gender into the washrooms of their opposites in protest of the foeman’s exclusionary policy. Our female forces will conduct a full frontal assault on the urinals, while our male troops will organize a sit-in of the bathroom stalls. Though the fear has been raised that the former forces may lack the proper equipment to complete their mission, I am told that their sheer fortitude will more than account for this. The sole obstacle of objection raised to our plan of attack concerns the fear that an insufficient number of our feminist forces still constrain themselves to a single expression of gender, that we could divide our forces as planned for the assault.
One engagement is not the war, and the latter will be one of attrition, it must be admitted. But be it assured, Mary Wollstonecraft herself would beam with pride at the battles we have chosen.