Go Ball Fem-what? The Occasional Toddler Perspective

The other day my mommy took me to the Brooklyn Museum because she said she wanted to see an important art show before it closed, and she said she would show me a whole lot of art by women artists and we would have a great time. I was very excited to go to the museum because I thought there were going to be really big dinosaurs there, like there were the last time we went to the museum. My first warning should have been when I noticed that the woman at the ticket counter glanced at me and said something to my mommy about the content in the show possibly not being suitable for small children, but I followed my mommy's lead and paid her no mind. I was very excited about the museum because I got to push the elevator buttons (not once, but twice!) to go to the floor where I thought the dinosaurs were going to be.

At first I was a little confused because I didn't see any dinosaurs at all, but I didn't mind seeing lots of naked women, especially the booby-feeding pictures. I think my mommy must have thought that those were the images the museum staff was referring to, and I shared her disdain at that bourgeois attitude. But as we walked through the next room I started to feel very upset. There were a lot of really unpleasant images of women being hurt in all these different ways. My mommy picked me up and hurried us through that room but the next room was no better, and neither was the one after that. Then she tried to appease me by spending some extra time in a dark gallery with a video of a funny brass band following a woman walking down the street, but by this time I really didn't like being in the dark rooms in this scary place, even if I was getting to watch a giant TV, and I refused to walk anymore and made her carry me because I wanted to go home, and I know because she tells me all the time that I'm getting to be a very big heavy boy and she has a hard time carrying me for long periods of time. So after just a couple more minutes my mommy said we could go home now and I could tell she felt really bad because she said she didn't know that the art was going to be like that. But I guess this "feminist art" term that I hear my mommy use so much actually describes a lot of stuff that is really ugly and violent and mean. But I can't figure out why that should have to be the case.

In any case, it's going to be a while before I let my mommy take me to the museum again.

UPDATE: Apologies for not captioning that image above:
Ryoko Suzuki, images from the Bind Series, 2001