Miss Ogynist (a poem)
By Vincent Truman On July 7th, 2011
So I heard Rebecca Watson told a scary tale
A scary, scary, scary tale
Of being with a man in a Dublin lift
Wherein there was caused not even a rift.
For there were no signs of ugly aggression
Or even unwanted sexual attention
There was an invite for chat and for coffee
And no suggestion, I understand, of schtupping or boffing.
And when she said, ‘no.’
The man did go.
Well! So rattled Watson soon became
That while not mentioning this poor bastard’s real name
Took her case to the internet
And angry appetites she did prove to whet.
On camera she stood tall (well… she sat)
And said, ‘guys, don’t do that’
A blanket statement for half the population
To abbreviate or eliminate their perceived adulation.
This scary tale soon reached Richard Dawkins
Who is known for his writin’ and his talkin’s
He found such a proclamation absurd
And voiced as much in many more words.
Dawkins scribed a funny, fictional lettah
To a woman that he dubbed Muslima
And told her not to bemoan her plight
Or dare to complain about her lack of rights.
For women in the West have it far, far worse!
Like being in an elevator and having some verse
Spoken to one, and when one declines
Having that fellow say nothing but “fine”!
Reaction to this joke was instant and fast
As if all the people were joyous at last
To be, at Dawkins, incredibly pissed
And whom they all secretly knew was a misogynist.
People demanded apologies from this Oxfordian mutt
And Dawkins replied ‘Apologize for what?’
Which made everyone all the more mad
Mob mentality does not common sense stand!
‘You don’t know what it’s like to be afraid
Or made uncomfortable or ashamed!’
Came the response from the enraged blogosphere
Laying claim, as they did, to the concept of fear.
For me I find I must wonder about this
Although I’m a Mister and I’ve never been Miss
I’m made uncomfortable all of the time
To live in a city is to live near a crime.
So I could be shot or attacked or mercilessly mugged
By a random crazy or someone on drugs
So I really don’t know what it’s like to be scared?
Half the population thinks I’ve never been there?
And when I attempted to convey skepticism
Of this laying of claim about misogynism
I was told I have no respect for women or their strife
Holy hell, I thought, I hope no one tells my wife.
But if Watson and crew dictated behavior
And allowed only things in which we could savor
Then we’d never hear again from old Richard Dawkins
And forget the hell out of ol’ Sadie Hawkins.


I generally don’t write about being an atheist, in the same way I don’t write about being left-handed.