I take some exception to it.

"Furthermore--"

"Excuse me, Dr Pestova?" The professor's glare makes her vexation plainly obvious. You pose your question regardless. "Isn't that unfair? You can't claim that cultural upheaval is the only solution when not all feminists are going to agree with that!"

"Forgive me, -young man,- but why don't you leave your petty analyses at the door and let me do the talking?"
"But you're showing us a biased view of feminism!"
Dr Pestova sighs with frustration. "Alright, -smart guy,- how so?" she challenges.

Take a deep breath. "Well, you mentioned that legislation isn't enough to change the culture. That's basically an indictment against the liberal feminist movement, which doesn't believe in social upheaval anyway! You've put the entire theory into the context of radical feminism! Of course we would never see the merits of the other feminist camps in that light!"

The professor is livid. "Oh, so you're the -big man- now, huh? Trying to tell a -woman- what she is supposed to think?" She begins a slow but threatening amble in your direction, gingerly climbing up the lecture hall to your seat. Your coed classmates watch anxiously at the unfolding events.

"What do you know? Have you been deep in the fray as I have? You're just like the rest of them in the male hegemony: talking, judging, decreeing about things you don't know anything about. And here you are, spouting your bull like it means something. What do you want? To impress the girls here so you can fuck and forget? YOU'RE NOT FOOLING ANYONE."

She towers over you now, her fine body hovering just inches away. The bulges on her chest hang like two fat pinatas, filled with untold but oft dreamed delights.

"Oh my God!" Dr Pestova recoils, covering up her body with her arms. "There, you see that?" she addresses the entire lecture hall, "His true intentions right before your eyes! He can't engage in a conversation without looking at my BREASTS." She shuffles back to the front of the class in melodramatic exasperation.

You desperately try to defend yourself, but of course she isn't hearing it, and neither are many of the young ladies who'd witnessed the debacle. Once more you feel the glow of center stage, but this time it's not from any kind of admiration or flattering curiosity.

"But, but..." you stammer, "it was the way she was standing! She was right over me! Her breasts were the biggest things I could see! I mean, I could barely even see her face!"
The entire room gasps in disgust. Dr Pestova seizes your clumsy rhetoric.
"And now, the objectification of women! We're just walking vaginas, aren't we??
"It...it's not like that, you..." Dr Pestova waits for it, probably with a smile. "...you bitch!!" You might be fucked.