Dear Hugh Hefner,
I won't beat around the bush. That's your specialty. Here's my request:
Please die.
I think you've lived long enough, and I know you've done enough damage in this lifetime. I am amazed that you didn't get chopped to pieces and pasted on the doors of sexist men who get off on objectifying women as an example of what should happen to your type of creature. I suppose women just aren't violent enough to go through with actually eliminating your existence.
I must admit, I have fantasized about you. Oh yes, Hugh. I think about kneeling in front of you and while you say something degrading and inherently sick to me, I castrate you with my teeth. Oh, I get hot just thinking about it.
Seriously, though, don't you think you've made enough women feel like their bodies (their young, undernourished, photoshopped bodies) are all they really have to offer to the world? Haven't you published enough issues of your miserable excuse for a magazine to make enough women around the world wonder if they're worth lies anywhere other than their cup size, thus encouraging (too many) women to get breast implants they didn't need or weren't even sure they wanted? Haven't you had enough fun on that absolutely sickening TV show of yours, parading your three girlfriends who were not even ideas when you were already old enough to be their grandfathers?
I think I speak for a lot of people when I say yes, Hugh, you've had enough.
Now please, go ahead and die.
I'd really love to know how the hell you got away with all this sexist behavior for so damn long. See, this is something that makes me mad at the whole world. If there were a magazine out there or a TV show about straight white men making fun of, degrading, and objectifying people of color or gay people, we would not stand for it! Imagine a magazine that had a photo-spread of white men- excuse my explicitness- coming all over black men. Or straight men physically hurting gay men. The world would stop it immediately.
So why is it that we put up with these venues where it's okay to turn women into objects in service of men?
I don't know Hugh, and World, I really don't know. And since it doesn't look like it will stop anytime soon, well then I really just want Hugh Hefner to die.
Look Hugh, I'm sure you have some quality somewhere along the line. I know you're a human being and I'm picking you out of a (sadly) very large pool of men who do what you do. But see, you make it okay. You just parade your pimped-robed self around and say, "Hey, it's okay to use women for their bodies, to have several girlfriends at a time, to have sex with women born centuries after us, to exploit their sensuality and beauty." You normalize sexism, and you profit from it.
I know what you're saying to yourself right now, Hugh. I mean, it's a free world, right? No one's forcing these women to do anything, right?
Right. But that doesn't make it right. Nor does it justify sexism. So just shut up with that argument. I'll write a letter to the women who willingly pose for playboy and as your girlfriends later. Right now, I'm focusing on your behavior and my desire for your death.
I know you fell in love when you were young and your wife cheated on you and you never recovered and lost faith in love and all that. I feel for you. That's rough. I know men love deeply, and I know it takes them a while to recover. But dude. You're old. You're a fucking old man. Go to therapy. Get over it. Or, as I have stated would be my preference, just die already.
Listen, I think the female body is beautiful too. I think my body is a wonderful part of who I am and my sexuality and my appeal to men. I understand that men hunger for women, and that getting your penis inside us is very important to you. But you, Hugh, you take it too far. You disrespect our sensitivity, grace, and love of admiration. You hurt us by turning us into bodies and sex symbols for other men to enjoy. You cheapen our sexiness. You empower yourself and other men by limiting what we have to offer as individuals.
I think that if you bothered to look past the double D cups you so love, you'd be stunned by the beautiful hearts that live behind the silicone. If you took the time to see how much we can love, how much we want to be loved, and how beautiful life is when you respect us, you might actually learn that women are incredibly strong, sensitive, graceful, caring, and soulful. We're also nicer and have better sex when we feel respected. But I don't suppose you know anything about that.
But I have no hope for you, Hugh. I have hope for other men, though. I have hope that men in the world, who grew up with Playboy and who worship you, might come to their senses. Might have an enlightening moment one day where they think, "Golly, I wonder what it'd be like if I treated a woman like a human being! That sounds like a life-expanding and soul-filling opportunity. How exciting!"
So, Hugh, I beg of you.
Please.
Die.
Die, and may your reputation and everything you created- or should I say destroyed?- die with you. Die and be forgotten. Die and leave behind the women whose souls you've cut. Let them have a chance at seeing that their self-worth lies beyond their bodies and youth.
Die, Hugh Hefner, die.
With all the best of intentions,
Larissa Dzegar
image from http://www.paddy-boehm.de/karikaturen/gross/Hugh-Hefner.jpg
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