I would like to apologize for certain thoughts I had while watching “Wonder Woman”
Yesterday afternoon, I attended the matinee showing of Wonder Woman. And while I enjoyed the film, I also had certain thoughts that ran shamefully counter to its central themes of feminine power and independence. These private thoughts were thoroughly reprehensible and I would like to apologize to my wife, my children, DC Entertainment, and anyone else who may have been affected by them.
For those not familiar, the film’s protagonist Diana Prince as portrayed by Gal Gadot is a brave, pure-hearted hero to which all young women should aspire. No woman, however, should aspire to the morally depraved version of Diana Prince portrayed in certain scenes within my own mind, also by Gal Gadot. That portrayal cannot be described as “pure” in any sense of the word, and for that I am truly sorry.
A woman of Diana’s integrity, for instance, would never allow herself to be tricked into grasping my penis instead of the legendary Sword of Athena. Nor would she giggle naively upon realizing her mistake, or feel she needs to ask me for permission to continue touching it simply because I am a man.
As a staunch feminist, I also believe firmly that, as a man, I have no right to stipulate to any woman precisely which articles of the Wonder Woman costume she must and mustn’t continue to wear as she explores my alien maleness. Nor should I ever assume that my penis, no matter how tantalizingly new and exciting, would be enough to distract Diana from her noble mission to end the first World War.
I also understand that when General Antiope, played by the fearsomely talented Robin Wright, discovers us and sentences me to death for trespassing into Amazonia, I have no right to undermine her authority and suggest instead that I be shackled naked to her bed with the Bracelets of Submission. Such a thought is the unfortunate byproduct of decades of male privilege, and I should know better.
Finally, I fully realize the Lasso of Truth is a sacred instrument of justice, not a tool for my own erotic asphyxiation at the hands of Antiope, Diana, and a dozen other Amazonian princesses. To imagine that so many strong female characters would devote themselves slavishly in the service of one man’s puerile titillation is nothing less an affront to modern feminism.
Once again, I accept full responsibility for these wildly inappropriate scenes I regrettably conjured yesterday inside my own imagination, and I deeply apologize for any and all damage caused by these unexpressed thoughts.