A new book tries to catalog the feminist love for cranky old Supreme Court justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg and ends up embarrassing everyone involved.
Our heroes, it is often said, reveal a lot about us. Alas, if you take even a cursory glance at today’s third-wave feminist heroes—one might say “heroines,” but that would probably be a dated, gender-binary, and vaguely oppressive mistake—you may rightly conclude, among other things, that the women’s liberation movement has long gone completely off the rails.
Take Lena Dunham, the modern feminist poster child, frequent train wreck, and creator of HBO’s “Girls,” who spends the bulk of her time wandering through the mists of an eager media, resembling a confused, woefully opinionated vending machine that only dispenses terrible ideas. Then there’s “feminist icon” Hillary Rodham Clinton, a presidential candidate who rocketed to fame largely because of her husband, and who is also, unfortunately for those who celebrate her, Hillary Rodham Clinton.
One of the more recent entrants into the hall of “You Must Love Her, Because Every Woman Does!” feminist fame, however, is Ruth Bader Ginsburg, the diminutive Supreme Court justice who adores abortion, occasionally flirts with eugenics—more on that later—and who is the subject of a newly-released, gushing hagiography entitled “Notorious RBG: The Life and Times of Ruth Bader Ginsburg.”
“Notorious RBG,” of course, is a loopy play on the late “Notorious B.I.G.,” a rotund rapper from Brooklyn named Christopher Wallace. Wallace, also known as “Biggie Smalls,” “Big Poppa,” and sometimes simply “Biggie,” became famous in the 1990’s by rhyming things like “escargot” and “my car go,” spouting anthems like “Big Booty Hoes,” and rapping lines like “your daughter’s tied up in a Brooklyn basement.” He was a pretty good rapper, I guess. He was not a very good feminist.
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