The roots of misogyny run deep at the Westfield Mall.
Like any proud mother, I am currently running an illegal unpasteurized human breast milk ice cream business by the bathrooms in the food court. It continues to operate despite being slapped with numerous sanctions and fines, because the world seems to have a “problem” with things that aren’t filled with dangerous chemicals and come from a factory.
Look; breast milk is natural. Oh sure, it’s fine to see a woman’s exposed breasts when they’re in an ad for Grand Theft Auto, but when they’re being used for their original purpose of producing a variety of flavors of super-premium ice cream in a non-commercial kitchen and then selling it without a vendor permit in a public place, suddenly everyone’s a prude. We have our country’s Puritan beginnings to thank for that.
I will not be silenced! I will not be caged! I will not remove my self-constructed breast milk ice cream stall from this mall food court! My God-given freedom to conduct business next to an under-construction Arby’s does not fall within the purview of your authority as a mall security officer. I know my rights!
What we have here is a garden variety Madonna-Whore complex: Women can either be gussy strumpets lolling around half-naked begging for sex, or we can be sexless pillars of virtue who shouldn’t “flout health code violations despite several warnings to cease all retail operations.” That’s what you’d call a lose-lose scenario—there’s just no right way to be a woman in this consumption-of-products-made-of-human-bodily-fluids-shaming society. I don’t see you arresting those perfect-looking mannequins down at Victoria’s Secret! And I have spooned tiny bits of my cinnamon-jalapeño frozen breastmilk custard into each one of their formless mouths!
If I want to milk myself, slow-churn that milk with ingredients like hand-selected organic nuts, stoneground spices, and fair-trade raw cacao, freeze that mixture in compostable containers, and sell that product to a niche customer base comprised mostly of performance artists, then that is what I will do! This is America and I’m not ashamed to live the life I deserve!
Let me ask you something: What is it that so disgusts you about my female body? Is it the idea of a woman being in control of her body? Is it the idea of a woman owning her own business? Is it the idea of communicable diseases being passed on to unwitting people who think I’m just selling regular ice cream? If the people who work at the health department were to truly examine their own prejudices, maybe I wouldn’t have to keep having this same argument over and over again. Can I at least have access to the people’s mic? Just for a moment?
Hands off my breast milk ice cream!
Betty Friedan once said, “Ms. Friedan requests that you no longer send pints of your bodily fluids to her office. All of us here on her staff are at our wits’ end. Please stop.”
Truer words were never spoken. We need to LIFT UP women entrepreneurs, not SHAME them with accusations of spreading E. coli and hepatitis. We must CHALLENGE ourselves to QUESTION our IGNORANT NAUSEA. We must find OPPORTUNITIES to eat BREAST MILK ICE CREAM while SHOPPING. That is what a REVOLUTION LOOKS LIKE and it TASTES LIKE CANTELOPE.
In summation, “John from Westfield Mall Corporate”, you’ll have to pry my breast milk ice cream from my cold, dead breasts.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get my baby something to eat.
