One would think the New York Times doesn’t suffer from the need to fill empty space to get clicks. After all, it’s the “paper of record,” and one would think it’s got smart op-eds coming out of its ears. And yet, it uses its prime real estate for hateful tripe. Why?

Today, one of the more unpleasant parts of my job writing and talking about feminism is dealing with online harassment — a now-common side effect of writing online while female. Very few days have gone by in the last 10 years when I haven’t gotten an email, online comment or tweet calling me a bitch or making a violent sexual threat. I go on Instagram during my lunch break to see my friends’ cute kid pictures, and instead find a comment from a young man I have never met telling me to die.

Who cares? This bit of critical information from Jessica Valenti, who has made a career of being a victim of sexism, overcoming her lack of education and inability to produce anything of utility to society, manages to find its way onto the pages of the Gray Lady. You attack males and complain that people respond? You should pay the “young man” (who is obviously “young” or he wouldn’t post on instagram), for without him, what would you have to complain about?

When we talk about gendered trauma, we tend to point to moments of physical danger, harassment or assault. Those are critical to discuss, of course. But we can’t leave aside the snowball effect of all types of sexism over a lifetime.

For me, it’s not one particular message or adolescent incident that bothers me; it’s the weight of years of multiple messages and multiple incidents. It’s the knowledge that this will never be just one day, just one message, just one hateful person. It’s a chipping away of my sense of safety and my sense of self.

Yes, it’s exhausting. The takeaway is that women need Geritol, as they’re always exhausted. Everything exhausts them. Got it. Thanks for the insight. Maybe if you spent your time making things that served some useful function rather than seeking out new ways to be a victim, you wouldn’t be so tired. Oh wait, that’s exhausting too. Jeez, your life is so very hard.

We are in a powerful cultural moment for feminism. It might be the most powerful one the movement has seen. The mischaracterizations of feminists as man haters or humorless shrews are widely seen as just that, powerhouse celebrities are laying claim to the word, and the country may be on the brink of electing its first female president. When I started speaking on college campuses a decade ago, only a few women in the crowd would identify as feminists. Now when I visit, entire rooms of young men and women enthusiastically embrace the term.

Not to harsh your mellow, but we’re finishing up with eight years of a black president, and it hasn’t done much for African Americans. And they don’t have to self-identify as feminists, as they have the skin color to prove it, Rachel Dolezal notwithstanding.

But nowhere in your op-ed, lifted from the olden days of 2013, do you mention the other 30 genders. Why do you hate gender fluid people?  Why do you extol the possibility of a female president, and thereby exclude a queer president?  Why are you such a hater?

The feminism that’s popular right now is largely grounded in using optimism and humor to undo the damage that sexism has wrought. Despite the well-worn myth that feminists are obsessed with victimhood, feminism today feels like an unstoppable force of female agency and independence. It is full of positivity and possibility.

Positivity and humor?

Okay, I’ll give you humor. But your hour of feminist victimhood is past. We’re on to the newest victimhood, and it’s not about girls* anymore.  Sure, there are some malingerers, trying to keep sexism relevant, but it’s old news. Now it’s about the newest, tastiest, coolest flavor, and you don’t even mention it, no less give a damn.

But maybe we’re doing ourselves a disservice by working so hard to move past what sexism has done to us, what the impossibility and inevitability of living a dehumanized life feels like. It’s a problem that should have a name.

It does have a name. The name is privilege.  Welcome to the club, where yesterday’s survivors are today’s privileged. Here’s Jessica Valenti, who can walk into any women’s restroom in the world without anyone getting pissed about it. Here’s Jessica Valenti, who will never be profiled for being a white woman. Here’s Jessica Valenti, who gets an op-ed in the New York Times telling sad stories of how her 5-year-old daughter would rather be the wolf than the pig who gets eaten. How many people get to tell their kid’s unexceptional stories in the Times? You have to be pretty darned privileged to get away with that.

But here you are, Jessica Valenti, in the New York Times, writing about your privilege and trying your best to make it seem as if you’re still a victim.  When everyone knows that your 15 minutes of victimhood are over, and we’re on to new victims.  And you hate them because they’re not you. Well, that’s to be expected. That’s how you privilege people are, only concerned with yourselves and hating the victims.

* Girls?