Deranged performance art

The 'gentleman' was in his late 40s to mid 50s and sported a thinning, comb-over mullet and a paunch.  He entered the subway (I was there last weekend) with a large crucifix attached to a broom handle and a shiny red pee-chee with a cross constructed out of mirror pieces, like a 5th grade art project from Our Lady of Perpetual Guilt.

He talks about his ministry to the 'angels' of the earth.  Angels are only women.  Everyone else should jump off the subway, he informed us.  The demons and the guerrillas are abominations and they should cleanse themselves by jumping off the subway now.  I'm mildly amused--enough to turn down the volume on my iPhone, but not enough to look at him.  He continues in his glory-hallelujah style.  Demons are, of course, men (aside from himself, of course).  Angels become Guerrillas the second they turn 22 years old.  He realized there were a lot of teenage boys on the car I was on, but no teenage girls and started praying to Jesus for the train to get to the next station and save him from the abomination of the guerrillas.  He said this while looking at me, then covered his face with his pee-chee, which had mirrors when he opened it.

I honestly don't know if he was trying to pick up young chicks, or was mentally imbalanced.  Or if he was an avant-guarde performance artists deconstructing male privilege.  I think he was probably just crazy.  But it still made me feel shitty.

Yes.  A crazy man with a home-made crucifix taped to a broom handle talking about angels, guerrillas and demons made me feel like I wasn't good enough.

And that is the male prerogative to define beauty.  It is conferred on every gentleman to define every woman.

And then I felt shitty for letting him make me feel shitty.  "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent!  What is wrong with you? Buck up!"

And that is a combination of my perfectionism and all the trips that I felt feminism laid on me.  Am I the only one who felt that "Be the change you wish to see in the world" was impossible to live up to?  I can't be the change.  I keep fucking it up!  Even trying to accept myself with joy and vitality is a tall order many days.  My mother still feels guilty for not single-handedly stopping W.'s 'election.' And I feel guilty for letting the patriarchy get me down.  And for not being a good feminist.  And for believing that there is such a thing as a 'good' feminist, instead of a woman living openly and honestly as best she can.