From the Suffragette parades of the 19th century to the women's magazines of the 60's, from Henry James' The Bostonians to Virginie Despentes' Baise-moi ("Fuck me"), feminism has changed its shape and content up to a point that nobody really knows where the initial movement has lead to.
One thing is sure: some clichés are dead and buried. Gone is the woman shown on the photo. The times when women took pride in outmuscling men are over. There is always the casual Texan female bulldozer challenging men at arm wrestling in a rodeo pub near Southfork Ranch, but she ranks now as a has-been.
The ugly fanatic university bachelorette of the 70's (the flat-chested one with greasy hair and shabby t-shirts) is a picture of the past. Too much yacking and not enough breasts.
The time has now come for the decisive changeover. Gorgeous chicks with perfect skin run riot at every level of the society and the results are quite devastating. Western women moved on from the boring initial claim of equality to the far more interesting challenge of installing feminity at the top of the podium.
How do they do that? Not by marching on the Sixth avenue with angry placards. Just by being themselves and forcing men to adapt. No need for a march when you have catwalking. No need to get violent if men get softer. No need for aging since L'Oréal's Revitalift.
All they really have to do now is to wait for the old-line sexist male generation from the good old 50's to kick the bucket. The next generation is ready to wear skirts.
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