It would be wildly generous to bill Hugh Hefner as some kind of grandfather of feminism – I’m not sure his interest in women extended beyond getting his rocks off – but it’s equally outrageous to depict him as a gang-master abuser running a harem of sex-slaves. As it seems some feminists have. The women who worked for him were adults making choices and, brace yourself, some of them enjoyed themselves!
Still, watching the bile rise for Hef after his death, I’ve been shocked to see the insults aimed at the women who worked for him, and how quickly their experiences have been written off.
In his later years, padding around his decaying mansion in a slithery dressing gown and silk pajamas, Hefner cut a seedy figure: A horny old perv chasing nubile flesh. But to reduce him to just a dirty old man isn’t simply ageist – it ignores his real role in the sexual revolution.
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