

Way to absolutely miss the point.
I don’t need to be or decide it and it’s not my opinion: the language community is the ultimate authority of their language. Their collective choices establish observable conventions. Linguistics is dedicated to that approach.
A not-insignificant amount of women think using the term “female” is derogatory. Women who feel that way are part of the “language community.” You’re talking like we’re some outsider group, whose use of English is less valid than yours.
Language has conventional, established meanings.
Language is alive - it evolves, it changes. As well, English famously doesn’t have an established body to define meanings. Rather, English words are based on common usage. Women commonly experience the usage of “female” in a derogatory sense. We didn’t designate it this way - all we’re doing is pointing out that it’s used in this way. Just because you don’t feel a derogatory sense from a given word doesn’t mean those that experience it that way are wrong.
If you had gone out to research the usage of “female,” including how people perceive it in different contexts, you’d see just how many anglophones disagree with you. But those people would probably, by and large, be those who’ve experienced that word in a derogatory way - in other words, they’d be women. So how about we stop acting like this is a semantics issue and get to the point you’re really saying, which is that women’s experiences and opinions are somehow worth less than yours.
Shortly after entering adulthood, I lost a close friend. He was still in college at the time, a talented, friendly, bright light snuffed far too early. He was well loved and his funeral was so packed that it was standing room only. One attendee described it as “the most depressing class reunion ever.”
His loss has never left me.
Right before I got the phone call telling me the news, I had been feeling extremely down about myself. I was crossing my work parking lot (which I had to do regularly as part of my job) without looking up for moving cars, thinking that if I got hit, it wouldn’t have mattered.
But that same day, my phone rang. It was a mutual friend, and through obvious tears and a quavering voice, she told me, “John is dead!”
With that, everything changed.
I’ll never forget how much it hurt to lose somebody so important to me. The idea of purposely putting my friends through that has kept me going more times than I can count. I have to remind myself, even in my darkest, most self-hating moments, that I’m more important to others than I realize. I can’t imagine John would have known just how much of an impact he had made on others, but I saw the proof. I felt the pain. I love my friends and family too much to entertain the thought of making them attend my funeral. And so I push on, but with one change:
I now make a point to explicitly tell my friends how much they matter to me.