Senator Anne C. Cools has worked tirelessly for equal justice and compassion for all throughout her career–and amazingly, includes men and boys in that.
Diana Davison exposes the incompatibility between democratic visions of justice and feminist visions of how to corrupt legal accountability to advantage women, placing them above the law.
Diana Davison discusses freedom of speech, failures of the Ban Bossy campaign, and the real reasons why some women can’t cut it in a merit based society.
International Women’s Rights Action Watch, CDAW, LEAF, and other proud feminist groups say equality is not equality, and that women need a special form of equality of their own. Diana Davison explains.
With her regularly-changing hairstyles you might be forgiven for thinking Laurie Penny is an auditionee for the stage-play Hair. Instead she’s a “journalist” attempting to craft herself into a pop icon. But as Diana Davison explains she is unlikely to succeed due to an increasing list of shoddy, unethical writing.
When legal scholar Helen Reece had the nerve to inject empirical data, facts, and standard principles of law into the discussion of rape of women, feminists were outraged at her audacity. How dare that woman use logic and reason to make an argument! Burn the witch! Burn her!
When Conor Oberst decided to strike back against false rape accusations he didn’t realise that he was up against something much bigger. Diana Davison offers Conor some advice on how to fight False Rape Culture.
Feminist lawyers and a growing field of “feelings” psychology rejoice every time a woman gets away with murder. Diana Davison follows the trail of how our legal system has been corrupted.
The magazines and bookshelves are full of manuals teaching women how to ply the art of manipulation. While women are busy asking “where have all the good men gone?” Diana Davison has a different question.
JTO, JTO!! Or is it now just skanky ho? It kinda rhymes this time, yet in no way fine. Yes, John, you, the douche canoe, who turned your back, for Valenti’s rack, a shameless man who went for clam. Your fingers linger, deep in throat, till you upchuck red pills, undigested. Pills in which, we invested, now on the floor with your fembot whore. The stink of shame is on your name. The stink of lame is in your Game.