Feminism has been called a “cancer,” and there’s no question many of its manifestations are malignant. Or that its cells metastasize unchecked. Despite those cells’ being a minority in the body politic, they exercise a systemic and debilitating influence on the whole.

“Plague” might be a better metaphor yet.

While only 20% of the population “identifies” as feminist (according to the Huffington Post), feminism has proved an epidemic contagion—“infest ’im” feminists have, many ’ims and ’ers.

Alas, a pocketful of posies is no deterrent. Brandish a bouquet at a feminist, and there’s a good chance you’ll be accused of stalking (#YouToo?).

Which leads to another anagram of feminist: “fine mist”—like fog or like the spittle that might cloud your glasses when a rabid crank holds forth on “rape culture”…before retiring to her laptop to tweenishly  effuse about a male lead on HBO’s Game of Thrones.

This sort of self-ridicule makes the anagram “finite S&M” a pervect fit, though it may be optimistic in its appraisal of feminism’s longevity.

A final anagram of feminist is “mini-fest.” Feminists have certainly had their fun. Here’s hoping the anagram is auspicious and that their next “wave” is goodbye.

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*The anagram “fistin’ ’em” was considered and then rejected upon consultation with an online slang dictionary. Apparently having a fist inserted in their rectums is considered pleasurable by many—which may account for a corrupted movement’s lasting as long as it has.