Offered with no further comment, here is a portion of Andrea Peyser’s terrific column on the recent feminist attack on actress Kirsten Dunst:

I’m pooped.

I work long hours, routinely order in pizza, nag the husband, and crash in front of the TV. Like many women who once longed for a berth amid the rat race — gals who’ve plotted to win high-power jobs, professional respect and the right to dig themselves early graves — I wouldn’t trade my life for anyone else’s.

But I can dream.

Wouldn’t it be a blast to stay home in a bathrobe instead of dodging smelly vagrants on the subway? I’d like to run with the kid in the park rather than pay someone to do it for me. I fantasize about finding the time to cook osso buco — if I could just figure out how the devil to work the oven.

Kirsten Dunst is my new hero. Or should I say heroine?

The actress — who appeared in three “Spider-Man” movies, is promoting her upcoming film, “The Two Faces of January,’’ enjoys the company of a man and looks pretty darn good doing these things — was attacked by angry feminists (or is that term redundant?) for speaking the truth about heterosexual women and family values. I’ll let her do the talking:

“I feel like the feminine has been a little undervalued,” Dunst, 31, said in an interview for next month’s Harper’s Bazaar UK.

“We all have to get our own jobs and make our own money, but staying at home, nurturing, being the mother, cooking — it’s a valuable thing my mom created.”

“And sometimes, you need your knight in shining armor. You need a man to be a man and a woman to be a woman. That’s why relationships work.”

The sisterhood went psychotic.

Keep reading. This is a great column.