“Fake feminism does not seek justice, doesn’t seek the truth, doesn’t care about people. I repeat, they are preparing an execution.” — Spanish Football Federation President Luis Rubiales, who has been accused of sexual harassment by a player on the national team.
Friends, I come before you today as a feminist seeking to defend myself against these completely fabricated allegations that I forcibly kissed a football player following our World Cup victory, an allegation supported by a video, eyewitness accounts, and the word of the woman I assaulted.
This accusation arises from the scourge of fake feminism that threatens Spain today. And now, to demonstrate what true feminism is, I’m going to publicly defame, attack, and threaten to sue the woman accusing me.
Seriously. I will sue her. I will sue the seventy-nine players supporting her. In fact, I’ll sue all the women everywhere and prove that no one holds a candle to me when it comes to protecting women’s rights.
To further show my feminist bonafides, I’ve even brought my three daughters to this very public and televised emergency meeting. Along with the rest of the world, I want my girls to watch and learn as I denounce these evil vixens. It’s not hyperbole to say that in pointing out what I did and saying that it’s wrong, these women are trying to execute me, the noblest man in Spanish football.
I ask you: Is it so wrong for the president of the Royal Spanish Football Association to grab a player by the head and kiss her full on the lips? Likewise, is it bad to grab your crotch after your nation’s women’s team wins the World Cup, which is another fun thing I did? Of course not, and only a hysterical female psychopath would think so.
It wasn’t even a forced kiss. She wanted me to kiss her. I am officially issuing this “she asked for it” statement because it’s tried and true and ensures people will believe the words coming out of my weasel mouth instead of their own eyes.
True feminism is when women keep their mouths shut. As a leading women’s advocate, I’ll also make sure my former colleagues stay silent about the sexual harassment I inflicted on them. Why shouldn’t I tell a woman to get down on her knees and ask her about her underwear? It’s also okay to tell people not to listen to a pregnant woman, because she’s crazy. I just hope my daughters are taking notes.
Anyway, these carefully selected photos, which we have studied with the same scrutiny generally reserved for the Zapruder film, clearly show that she’s the one who lifted me up, and everyone knows that if a woman lifts you up during a celebratory hug at a medal ceremony for a sporting event, it means she wants you to forcibly kiss her.
Phew, I’m making so many excuses here I can hardly keep track of them all. Here’s another one: The desire in that kiss was the same as the desire I could have when kissing my daughters, who, again, are here to act as a shield and protect me against the consequences of my behavior. This is just the best Bring Your Daughter to Work Day Ever, isn’t it girls? Also, special thanks to this overwhelmingly male audience for applauding me and my refusal to resign.
In closing, it’s a shame that here in Spain, fake feminism is gaining ground and making victims out of heroes like me. But if I must play the role of martyr, I’m happy to do it—not for myself, but for my daughters, and most of all for men who want to continue doing whatever they want, whenever they want, to whomever they want without consequences. For this, I will fight until the very end. In the words of the great feminist bell hooks, “Feminism is for everybody, but especially for men trying to justify their own creepy actions.”
[Grabs crotch and exits stage.]