Amazon and Walmart Insult Catholics

Amazon and Walmart Insult Catholics

October 18, 2016

Bill Donohue comments on the way Amazon and Walmart are handling offensive Halloween costumes this year:

Amazon and Walmart have one standard for transgender persons and one for Catholics: they will not tolerate the slightest insults to the former, but they have no problem offending the latter.

Recently, Amazon, Target, and Walmart pulled a “Tranny Granny” Halloween costume, saying it was offensive. It is not certain how many cross-dressers complained, but at least one activist said that it was “humiliating, dehumanizing, and degrading.” Walmart was particularly contrite, telling LGBTQNation that “it clearly violates our policy.”

We have no problem with Target: it does not carry costumes that clearly insult Catholics. But Amazon and Walmart do.

Amazon is carrying an outfit called, “Keep Up the Faith Priest Men’s Costume.” The priest is wearing a black cassock that features him sporting an erection; the nun, dressed in full habit, is depicted as pregnant. It is also selling, “Foreplay Women’s Sinful Sister Catsuit and Headpiece,” a black scantily-clad costume with black stockings.

Walmart has a “Pregnant Nun Costume” that lives up to its name. “Heavenly Hottie Costume Foreplay” is also available in black: the nun outfit is a one-piece body suit that features white high boots; it is adorned with a large cross in the chest area.

There are no excuses for what Amazon is doing, but Walmart is worse. It likes to tout itself as a “Christian-friendly” store, yet when it comes to Catholics, it drops its guard.

It is not a good cultural sign when corporate elites are more sensitive to cross-dressers than they are to Catholics.

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2 comments on “Amazon and Walmart Insult Catholics

  1. [Nonetheless Amazon has a submissive attitude (dhimmitude) toward offensive Islamic Halloween costumes]

    Amazon pulls “sexy burqa” Halloween costume after Islamic outrage

    October 11, 2016

    A “sexy burqa” Halloween costume was removed from Amazon after claims it was offensive to Muslims.

    “You’re all disgusting racists. My culture is not your costume,” wrote one enraged shopper.

    “Whoever you are fear Allah” added another.

    According to a screen shot of the item, the costume was priced at $30. RT reports that Amazon UK may delete the seller’s profile if they fail to abide by the rules.

    Halloween is a time for scary costumes. And what’s scarier than a symbol of Islamic oppression? Clearly Amazon never thought about that.

    • REBEL STAFF asks:

      And what’s scarier than a symbol of Islamic oppression [such as the Burka]?

      Feminists who regard it as a symbol of liberation:

      The hijab has liberated me from society’s expectations of women

      Wearing the hijab doesn’t have to be about religious dedication. For me, it is political, feminist and empowering

      Nadiya Takolia
      Monday 28 May 2012

      When you think of the hijab, you probably don’t think “political”. Or “independent”. Or “empowered”. Feminist? Certainly not – feminism is far better known for burnt bras and slut-walks than headscarves.

      There is much misunderstanding about how women relate to their hijab. Some, of course, choose the headcover for religious reasons, others for culture or even fashion.

      But in a society where a woman’s value seems focused on her sexual charms, some wear it explicitly as a feminist statement asserting an alternative mode of female empowerment. Politics, not religion, is the motivator here. I am one of these women.

      Wearing the hijab was not something I deliberately set out to do. It was something I unexpectedly stumbled upon as a twentysomething undergraduate, reading feminist literature and researching stories of women’s lives in the sex industry. From perfume and clothes ads to children’s dolls and X Factor finals, you don’t need to go far to see that the woman/sex combination is everywhere.

      It makes many of us feel like a pawn in society’s beauty game – ensuring that gloss in my hair, the glow in my face and trying to attain that (non-existent) perfect figure.

      Subconsciously, I tried to avoid these demands – wearing a hat to fix a bad-hair day, sunglasses and specs to disguise a lack of makeup, baggy clothes to disguise my figure. It was an endless and tiresome effort to please everyone else.

      Sure the hijab was not the only way to express my feelings and frustrations; but knowing that our interpretation of liberal culture embraces, if not encourages, uncovering, I decided to reject what society expected me to do, and cover up.

      It was not a decision I made overnight. It took several months of agonising over the pros and cons – will it change the way others treat me? Will I get hot in a headscarf? Is it possible, at all costs to avoid the all-black look?

      I rarely discussed the decision with others – I wanted it to be mine and mine alone. Like so many women, my main reservation was the discrimination I might face. Things like looking for a job, or socialising and being judged by others based on prejudices about Muslim women (because now I would look like one) before they even got a chance to know me. And not just the prejudices of non-Muslims, but also the simplistic assumptions of Muslims who think that a veiled woman is a holier woman.

      The first day I stepped out in a hijab, I took a deep breath and decided my attitude would be “I don’t give a damn about what you think”. The reaction was mixed. One friend joked that I was officially a “fundamentalist”. Extended family showered me with graces of “mashallah”, perhaps under the impression that I was now more devout. Some, to my surprise (and joy), didn’t bat an eyelid. I was grateful because, ultimately, I firmly believe that a woman’s dress should not determine how others treat, judge or respect her.

      I do not believe that the hair in itself is that important; this is not about protection from men’s lusts. It is me telling the world that my femininity is not available for public consumption. I am taking control of it, and I don’t want to be part of a system that reduces and demeans women. Behind this exterior I am a person – and it is this person for which I want to be known.

      Wearing the hijab has given me a new consciousness of this. Though my mode of expression may appear Islamic, and my experiences carry a spiritual dimension, there is no theological monopoly on women’s empowerment; I really believe that a non-Muslim woman could do this if she chose to. My motivations have been explicitly political, and my experiences human.

      The result has been refreshing. In a world as diverse and changing as our own, the hijab means a multitude of things to the many women who choose to wear it. I speak as a woman who just happens to come from the Islamic faith, and for me the hijab is political, feminist and empowering. This dimension is increasingly important for many women who choose to wear it; it’s a shame it is understood by so few.

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