all about my tiny purple fist

When I am frustrated with something, I often shake my tiny fist at it, in defiance and rage.  I think this started in grad school, and I’m pretty sure “I shake my tiny fist at you!” got pulled out over statistics problem sets.  (Graduate-level statistics: bleah.)  My awesome friend L thought that my phrase was funny, and one day, she got me my very own tiny fist to shake at the world.  Behold its glory, below.

Purple power!  Ready to shake:


It also happens to be purple, which is a fantastic color.  As you can see, I keep it handy [see what I did there?] on my desk, perched on the end of a pencil, for when I might need it.

#2 asks:  Do you shake it at the patriarchy?

YES.  YES I DO.  The patriarchy is only one of many things at which I shake this awesome fist.

Grumpeteers, what (or whom) do you shake your tiny fist at?

9 Responses to “all about my tiny purple fist”

  1. Liz Says:

    Most recently: people (“men”) who use their words to sound like they’re listening and open to change, but then use other words to tell me that somehow my feelings/intuitions/evidence-based observations of their behavior are wrong. (No, sir, YOU are wrong. Very very wrong. But it’s pointless to try to explain, because I’ve tried, and so… I shake my fist at you.)

    Side note — can we really call such men *men*, if indeed they still act like little boys? I argue no.

    • nicoleandmaggie Says:

      I shake my tiny fist at, “Just a heads up, you don’t want to over-use the gender card.” And, “Oh no, [colleague] doesn’t have a sexist/racist bone in his body. He’s very supportive of his [stay-at-home] wife. He said that inappropriate [sexist/racist silencing] thing not because of sexism/racism. Let’s not go there.” Also shaking my fist at the fact that these two administrators just sent the diversity assistant dean in their place to the required implicit bias training. Guess which administrator is the only one who doesn’t need implicit bias training…

  2. Leah Says:

    I shake my fist at students who just don’t get it. If I’m making a comment on your paper, it’s because you didn’t do something. My comment isn’t because I didn’t bother to read your paper thoroughly, so stop trying to tell me you did it. Obviously, you didn’t (or didn’t do so well enough).

    Most of my students are great and respond well to the high level of feedback I get. Others, well, blegh. Let’s just say I make them work for an A in my class (which plenty of those responsive, hard workers earn), and some kids don’t appreciate that.

    Shaking my fist!

  3. Comradde PhysioProffe Says:

    Why is there so much dust between the fingers?

  4. Foscavista Says:

    Wow, with all the attempts at anonymity, you post a revealing picture?

  5. jlp Says:

    Ha! In our house, shaking a fist in disgust is something we do all the time, only it’s also accompanied by the phrase “Dr. [thing or person you are upset with]!”

    The phrase comes from the fact that I contracted a uterine infection when my second child was born, and spent much of the time I was ill shaking my fist and cursing “Dr. Crud!@*” in anger and disgust at the OBGYN who was there for the delivery. My older child picked it up and ran with it. Now we have a shake of the fist plus “Dr. Nose!” when one’s nose is too itchy, or “Dr. Zipper!” if one is having trouble zipping up one’s jacket, etc. In a happy coincidence, it turns out to be helpful in diffusing preschool age frustration!

    *His name was not Crud, though it did rhyme with it.

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