A Sex Letter

Dear Sexists,
This isn't a letter about sex--well, yes it is, but not like you're thinking. This is about my sex, not the one I give, but the one I was born with. The female sex. I'm tits and cunt and a whole lotta smarts, too. Does that scare you? Or do you just think it's unfair for me to have tits, cunt, and brains all in one package? If you want to talk about what's unfair, we can go on at length about dehumanizing attitudes, because you're giving me a great example.
I don't pretend to understand your kind; I must always forget to multiply fear into the equation of boobs + brain = sexist prick. (Us girls and our math, what can I say?) But whatever tiny complex is making your tighties knot whenever I open my mouth to argue, you seem to respond in ten-fold anger, condescension, or both.
Thanks to pricks like you I understood the root word of patronize. Thanks to pricks like you I learned that sexism is still alive and well. And it is because of you that feminism cannot die--nay, will not die--as long as you decide that you need to restrict my mouth and my confidence until I am beaten down into willful submission so you can carry on your conversation with the boys.
You need to recognize you're sexist. You need to recognize that you don't respect women when you can only argue condescendingly with us. And you need to recognize that women will avoid you and you will wake up one day next to a wife who cannot really love you because you cannot really respect her. And one day you will look back and think on all the women you have burned and raged at because they dared to argue, dared to object, dared to question, and realize that your attempts to drag them back down to the kitchen were done in vain. For you cannot make us submit. The times you thought you had beaten us down were merely times we laid low to strike back. We never submitted. And we're not going to now. Because we're smarter and swifter and stronger than you, and no wimpy sexist is going to make us stop believing that.
Tomorrow night is Take Back the Night. And we're taking it back, you pricks.

Love,
Smart Women Everywhere