The Intersectionalist And The Serpent

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One cold, Winter’s night, a young feminist was returning home from a Women’s Anti-Trump march, when she noticed a snake coiled up in the snow. It’s small body was stiff from the cold, its eyes frozen shut.

“Oh, you poor little snake.” She said, stooping down. She took off her knitted pink pussy hat and wrapped it around the snake, before placing it inside her coat and continuing on her way.

As she drew near her apartment building the warmth from her body began to revive the snake and it stirred within her jacket.

“Don’t worry little snake.” She said reassuringly. “You’re safe now. I have an old reptile tank at home you can live in.”

But, as she reached her front door the snake suddenly darted into her blouse and bit her upon the chest. The girl sank to her knees in pain and surprise.

“Oh snake, why would you bite me, when I was so kind to you?”

“Kind?” Sneered the snake. “Kind? You called me a snake! You assumed my species! I am not a snake, I am a woman!”

“I’m so sorry.” Gasped the girl. “I did not realize you identified as a woman!”

“Identify?” Screamed the snake. “I do not ‘identify as a woman’, I am a woman. I have always been a woman. I just happen to have been assigned snake at birth! You were going to put me in some dusty old tank! You wanted to marginalize me, treat me as though I am different, when our only difference is that I am more oppressed than you! Now, take your smelly front hole and stay the hell out of my safe space, you Cis Scum TERF!!!”

And with that, the snake slithered beneath the front door, Switched on an old episode of Sex And The City, and started ordering cosmetics online.

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