Katie Hopkins has done more for feminism than you ever will

Love her or hate her, Katie Hopkins is undeniably a much-needed female talking head in the crowd of masculine media pundits. She defies convention; she is uncontrollable. Feminism? She doesn’t even need it.

Slammed by feminists, who see her controversial take on universal women’s rights as a threat to their third-wave radicalism, Hopkins has baldy ascended to become the most talked about woman in the UK. In reaching such monumental notoriety, Hopkins epitomises the extent of our advance into what we can now confidently call a Post-Patriarchy.    

Contemptible and unapologetically radical, Hopkins really is this generation’s Emmeline Pankhurst. Pankhurst, however, had it easy; she came from a family of radical politicians, married a lawyer so committed to the feminist cause that he agreed to author the Married Women’s Property Acts of 1870 and 1882, which allowed women to keep earnings or property acquired before and after marriage. But feminism, for Hopkins, is so much more than a hobby.

Whilst hairy-pitted wannabe Germaine Greers do little more than flash grassroots flyers at Facebook enthusiasts with emotional issues, Hopkins fearlessly tackles the ‘touchy’ issues head-on. Her tweets alone have brought widespread attention to the issue of FGM, without pandering to the patriarchal obsession with the female sexual organs prevalent in contemporary media; her prose style remains both detached and hard-hitting.

Hopkins lives, breathes and even wears the cause. Refusing to conform to the Campaign-for-Real-Beauty fad, Hopkins remains admirably trim, defying the prevalent misconception that only fat-feminists achieve airtime. Whilst her perfectly preened appearance has been scorned by the Primark-shopping-single-mom masses, Hopkins continues to wear her cause on her Yves Saint Laurent sleeves. Committed Hopkins’ selfless sporting of designer brands remains an active contribution to the employment of third world women, providing them with a means of supporting their families. Doting mother herself, her concerns remain, as always, with underprivileged children.

Her own daughter, India, is an embodiment of Hopkins’ concern for female repression in the third world. Though Hopkins has modestly debunked the myth that the naming of her daughter is in someway linked to India, the country, the symbolism remains. In naming her daughter thus, Hopkins’ is subtly reversing the subjugation of Indian women, and by extension all Asian women, boldly reclaiming the name.

Her interest in preventably-deprived children doesn’t end there. The extent of her self-sacrifice really is admirable; her deliberately-abhorrent chat show persona actively encourages those shamelessly employed under the ‘full-time mommy’ cult, to switch off the TV, get a real job, and contribute towards the reversal of patriarchy.

Hopkins, herself, manages to refrains from active suffrage, quite rightly dissociating herself from what has become the only remaining tolerable form of domestic-terrorism, preferring to leave the fluffy-pink steering wheel of the suffrage bandwagon in the hands of the experts; undergraduate poetry students.
— edited: LH