Category Archives: Feminism
The Ice Cube Effect and Feminism
First: A Cultural Curio
When Canadians cross their southern border to spend time in the US, we notice all sorts of weird and wonderful things about how our cultures differ. So I figured I’d entertain you with a small, but significant, difference (significant if you enjoy a properly prepared beverage, that is) before I use it to help illustrate a very significant problem in feminism today.
When a mild-mannered Canadian finds herself in an American restaurant, she usually gets herself a beverage. It might be water, it might be pop (that’s Canadian for ‘soda’, ‘soda pop’ and other American variations on ‘carbonated beverage’), it might be an alcoholic beverage. But no matter where she finds herself, one thing is true: you get a glass with your beverage of choice, and a massive fucking pile of ice within. It sets you to cussing and looking for an extra glass, plate, ashtray (in the old days) and a spoon, so that you can scoop out most of the ice. Canadians don’t like a lot of ice in their drinks, and we are used to getting a choice about it. Go to any Canadian restaurant and your server (if a good one) will always ask you if you want ice in your drink when you are ordering. Most beverages are already refrigerated and are thus cold enough. And if you choose to get ice in Canada, you get just enough to keep the beverage cold. I learned about this as a small child, but when I lived in the US, I very quickly learned to say “no ice” upon ordering whenever I went out.
What’s the big deal, you might ask. Am I just a princess, or rather, are all Canadians princesses? Do we carry ice within our bodies, coming from the Great White North, as we do? Well no. Of course not. I can’t poop an ice cube to save my life. I occasionally have ice in my drink – a few cubes – but really, I seldom need it given that most bevs are refrigerated beforehand. The big deal is that with all that goddamn ice in your drink, it isn’t long before you have this watered down liquid that is no longer flavourful, satisfying, resembling what you wanted in the first place, and is ultimately not worth drinking. The ice cubes are not only plentiful, but they are also usually small, so they melt quickly, taking over with their own seeming agenda instead of just ‘supporting’ the drink. There is nothing more unsatisfying than an expensive, watered down rum and coke – or even just the coke on its own. Yuck to the nth degree! It always made me wonder whether Americans are just really fast drinkers, sucking down gallons of soda pop lickety split. The ‘unlimited refill’ is ubiquitous in and unique to the US – is it because everyone’s drinks are diluted and the time to enjoy beverage perfection is but a fleeting moment?
Anyhow, silliness aside, the melting ice cube phenomenon has nice imagery and application in other, more serious, areas of life. But please note that any comparison with the US is over. It applied to the non-serious story above only. The following is international in scope, and it is one that affects more than just your taste buds.
And so I come to feminism, my drink of choice. And the ice cubes, you might have guessed, are males.
Males pollute and dilute feminism, and if present in a feminist’s life or in the movement itself, very quickly will take over and impose their own agenda. It makes perfect sense if you allow yourself to think about it. Throughout history, men have ruined everything and have made women’s lives hell on earth through their violence and colonization of every aspect of our controlled lives. If it weren’t for this truth, there wouldn’t be this thing called feminism. In short, if women were liberated with equal access to all resources and opportunities, rights and freedoms, there would be no need for a tall glass of feminism. Feminism is the quest to liberate all women from oppression by males. Kaboom.
And so, like ice cubes in a drink of feminism, the more connections you have to males or the more you try to include males in feminism, the more watered down your feminism is. The ice cubes – males – melt and overwhelm the beauty of the drink. Your pure, simple and explicit feminist agenda turns into some unidentifiable, unsatisfying concoction that no longer serves your original interest. Rum and coke with melting ice becomes watery rum and coke. Feminism with males becomes male-focused ‘feminism’.
This truth will hurt the feelings of many women who consider themselves to be feminists. I’m talking about women who have men in their lives, and especially those with very tight and intense trauma bonds with husbands and sons. When you have pledged to take care of all the emotional, psychological, biological, sexual, and economic needs of a male or males, often to your own detriment as a woman, it is near impossible for you put women first. And putting women first is non-negotiable in feminism. After all, feminism isn’t “freeing women, so long as males aren’t inconvenienced, neglected, held responsible, or have their feelings hurt”. So, I’m sorry if this describes you and you feel defensive. Note that I haven’t said that you can’t call yourself a feminist. I’ve said that your feminism is compromised and diluted because your two investments are not complementary, but rather oppositional or contradictory. Supporting and lurving men does not help women. Rather the opposite, actually.
Even if you don’t have special, special relationships with special, special males, there are other ways men can infect how you approach the plight of women. How you conceptualize gender, violence, the cause of violence, and what your social justice priorities are – even painting your face or dressing like you’re advertising sex (no matter how you rationalize it) – will colour your feminism.
But let’s get down to business. I have some interactive fun – in the form of a quiz!!! – for you so you can explore your own glass of feminism to determine how much ice you have included, and ultimately, how diluted your drink is.
Now, I have graduate education in test design, intent, and analysis and I have government training and practice in measurement issues. So I have thought about and have experience in measuring shit and figuring out how bad our (male-designed) assessment tools are. Please note this: there are many problems with this quiz. Most important, my design tool (Polldaddy) was inadequate for my purposes. I wanted more nuance (e.g., weighted responses, assignment of ‘part marks’, etc.), and it just wasn’t possible. Also important, I haven’t tested this test (e.g., reliability and validity) prior to going public to determine whether it measures what it is supposed to. Hell, I haven’t even run it by a human editor or focus group to determine whether people can actually read and understand it!!! I mean, I have a leg up over other test designers, but without proper testing, proper tools, and needed edits and re-edits, this test is no more serious than some dumb-ass personality or sex quiz you’d find in some dumb-ass women’s magazine. So, what you have here is something that was fun for me to do cuz I’m a big nerd, but which shouldn’t be taken seriously other than perhaps to inspire some self-reflection on how much you are infected by the penis virus.
So if you want to take the “How Diluted Is Your Feminism?” quiz, please click the button. There will be a pop-up window care of Polldaddy. And it has 10 questions. Easy peasy.
Note that you’ll get a percentage at the end of the quiz without any explanation as to what it means. There is no ‘fail’. You can interpret your score how you wish. My only suggestion is that if you are scoring below 50%, you probably need to refresh your drink — and all that that implies.
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Shrill, Bitter, Humourless, Prudish Man-Hater
Not super-original, but I’m in a foul mood, and I feel like lightening things up a little. And nothing lightens the mood more than taking a look at the ‘insults’ that men hurl at women.
When a woman, especially, a feminist is called any of the following – shrill, bitter, humourless, prudish, or a man-hater – I really have to laugh. I don’t consider these insults, perhaps because I have a lot of interest in what words mean. Other than the last one – man-hater – all of the terms have broad application. They weren’t designed to hurt women, specifically. The insults that really bother me are those with very specific, woman-harm in mind. I’m talking b****, c***, s***, w****, etc. Those terms, which are becoming much more common, normalized, and publicly used in entertainment accessible to impressionable children, hurt women. They hurt women in the same way that the n-word hurts blacks. But racism is taken seriously these days – you won’t hear the n-word used as a slur in the past few decades of television or film unless you’re looking at a character who is specifically a race-supremacist or within an historical context. Woman-hate or misogyny, on the other hand, is becoming mainstream and embraced. Misogyny has always existed, but it is no longer buried under innuendo in the public arena, and this is reflected in the language. Slurs against women are hurled at females (or as a grave insult to men) in entertainment as comedy and or as hate by male and female characters alike, by all racial groups, and by characters of all ages. I was watching an American show the other day where an older black man forced his way into a white, teen-aged girl’s house, called her a ‘bitch’ with hate behind the word, and when she tried to stop him, he yelled out to the street, “Racism!!! This white girl is oppressing a old, black man!!!” Yeah. That’s where our world is going. Slurs against women are fine and dandy, and men of colour are often leading the pack as some of the most protected perpetrators. ‘Art’ reflects life which, in turn, is informed by ‘art’.
Now here’s the problem. The slurs that are really bothering women, especially feminists, these days, are not the ones I just talked about. Hell, call a lib-fem a ‘slut’, and she’ll take her top off and shake those titties at you with pouty lips and a defiant “yeah, I’m a slut, so what?’ look. No, what really gets women a-scampering these days is being called a prude or a man-hater. And even radical feminists will bend over backwards to demonstrate exactly how they couldn’t possibly hate men or want to stop men from putting their dicks into people.
Let’s break these suckers down, why don’t we?
Shrill
Shrill refers to a sound that is high-pitched or piercing. It is used by men to refer to their dislike of women’s speech. They even use the term to refer to women’s writing, so we know it may only partially refer to the actual sound. The content plays a major role, too. You see, strangely, the voices are more piercing or ‘shrill’ when women are trying to fight for their basic human rights. Personally, I’ve encountered very few women’s voices that you could categorize as ‘shrill’. Occasionally, I’ll run into one that is hard to listen to because it is high-pitched. But on the whole, for me, voices that are annoying or difficult to pay attention to are that way for more complicated reasons. No two are exactly alike. It can include geographically-based accent, pitch, timbre, loudness, and/or whether someone whines or slurs. And a bad laugh can make things worse. I find men’s voices equally or even harder to endure than women’s mostly, but not only, because they are so loud and the content is so boring. I remember years ago, participating in a weekly trivia group thing in grad school, and there was always this one dude sitting across the room who would drive my ears fucking crazy – like poison-ivy-itching crazy – with his freakish, weird, loud voice and laugh. If I’d had a steak knife with me… Anyhow, shrill is more about men not liking to hear about human rights for women than any objective qualities of women’s voices.
Bitter
I’m not sure if I’ve ever met a bitter feminist. I’ve met a lot of bitter men, that’s for sure. And I’ve also met a few women who are IN relationships with men and who defend the penis who are actually bitter. What does bitter actually mean? It refers to someone who is “angry, hurt, or resentful because of one’s bad experiences or a sense of unjust treatment”. The bold is mine because it is the important part of this definition. Having a sense of being treated unfairly doesn’t necessarily mean you are actually being treated unfairly, and this is why ‘bitter’ doesn’t apply to feminists. Women ARE treated unfairly. Regularly. All over the world. For thousands of years. Women SHOULD be angry and hurt and resentful. Men, who often have hurt feelings and anger because they may not get what they feel they are entitled to (i.e., free access to as many women’s bodies and free labour and attention as possible), are bitter. They think life is unfair for them. But it is decidedly not. Bitter. Bitter men.
Humourless
Of course men are funny. To call women humourless is the funniest thing EVER. But seriously, men’s humour, which mostly relies upon slamming the oppressed (women) through rape jokes, cheap ho jokes, female biology jokes, or through boring, repetitive jokes about farts, poop, masturbating, etc., is not funny. Men are humourless. Women are funny. They really are. Now, we’d have a better sense of this if men didn’t control the entertainment industry. As it is, to become a female comedian, you have to be fuckably hawt first. Being hawt is unrelated to comedic talent, so we miss out on probably 98-99% of the funny women out there. Funny women who are not hawt are barred from speaking, performing, acting. I have my personal (growing) list of female comedians whom I like to watch and laugh with, two of my faves being Tig Notaro and Janeane Garofolo. If you like funny of the visual sort, I highly recommend Phemisaurus, who caters to women of the ‘man-hater’ persuasion. She makes me laugh and laugh. But there are many funny women out there. Many. Google. Look, watch, listen. And laugh. They are women and they are talented. And somehow, they don’t need rape, whores, shit, farts, or penises in the mix to do it.
Prudish
Oh, this one makes me tired. Countless rad-fems have spent time doing justice to the ‘we’re not prudes, we just think PIV (penis-in-vagina; aka ‘dude-sex’) is harmful’ argument. So I’m not going to go through the whole thing here. Femonade is a great resource for this, and FCM does it better than I ever could. There is a massive difference between hammering home (yes, I know the imagery I’ve created) the point that penises are the source of most, if not all, of women’s problems, and doing the religious, woman-hating, anti-sex, guilt-hate-shame parade. Feminists aren’t anti-sexuality. They wish for women to be free from men’s sexuality so that they can finally figure out what theirs is about. As it is, men define all sexuality, and it is all about serving men and harming women. Period. There is nothing prudish about wanting women to be free to be or not to be sexual beings on their own terms.
Man-Hater
Perhaps my favourite insult? Maybe. I also like the word misandrist, but most men can’t pronounce it and so don’t use it. Plus ‘man-hater’ is catchy – like a venereal disease! All I know is when men call women ‘man-haters’, it makes me laugh and laugh. Men are so fucking insecure. It is an unassailable truth that men hate women. We’ve got that down, right? And since they can only envision hate, it is impossible for women to exist in a state where they don’t hate men. Or perhaps it is this. Men know that if women treated them the way that men have always treated women, hate would be the inevitable and rational effect. Simply put: “We men treat you women like you are maggots on shit. How can you not hate us?” And craftily, men will use this assumed hate to justify more shitty treatment, anger, ranting, violence, etc. And really, whether we hate them or not is actually irrelevant. All men need is the belief.
But so what if a woman or group of women or all women do hate men? It is justified, reactive, defensive hate. And when we hate, we don’t follow it up with violence. In fact, most women will feel the hate burn, and then find excuses for men, allowing them to continue trying to destroy us. Men, on the other hand, have aggressive, unjustified hate for women that is the fuel for all the violence they do to us. We have done nothing wrong – except exist – they hate us and try to destroy us. And then they blame us if we speak up to defend ourselves.
So ‘man-hater’? Give me a break. Take a look in the mirror, assholes. Read the papers. Take a look at the women around you in a human, non-pervy way. You are more likely to see fear in women’s eyes than hate.
Conclusion
To women and feminists, especially, stop defending yourselves against male accusations in the form of ‘slurs’. It is a waste of gynergy. If you really must fight something, then fight the real slurs – the b- c- w- and s-words. The slurs that actually hurt us and are designed to do so.
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Men’s Intuition: I Can Tell From Looking at You
[Part of the Conversations with Men series, but a different format than the usual post.]
If you’re a woman, chances are extremely good, likely close to 100%, that you’ve had a run-in with ‘men’s intuition‘. It’s not called this, but we’ll get round to that and what it really is.
Rather, we hear constantly about ‘women’s intuition’, which is a real thing, and which is disparaged, downplayed and used by men in their jealousy and fear to hurt women in a myriad of ways. Men define intuition as women’s unthinking, non-rational, knee-jerk, emotional response to everything, or sometimes the ‘neeeeeed to have baybees’ and being naturally good with baybees and unpaid labour. Scientists operationally define intuition as the “ability to discern what other people are thinking and feeling”. But neither are quite correct. I believe the male definition is just bullshit, as most male thoughts on things are. The scientific definition partially covers it. What women often report is that intuition has to do with being able to sense dangerous people and situations before ‘shit gets real’, or the ability to sense what someone is feeling without any information, or the gut feelings they get about things (positive or negative). It’s a hard-to-define, deep sense of the world that results from awareness and experience of how shit works coupled with a deep connection to nature and people. I believe it is strongly connected to empathy and to being part of the prey class. Some scientific studies (with questionable intentions, imo as a bona fide methodologist) posit that there is a partial biological cause for intuition – greater intuition is linked with lower exposure to testosterone in the womb, which explains why they see higher intuition in women. Who knows? Regardless of what the scientists think they’ve found, I see evidence of intuition in women every day, and unlike what men and many scientists like to think, it is unrelated to being rational, analytical or thinking-oriented. Amaaaazingly, people (especially women) can be intuitive AND analytical, as easily as others (especially men) can be unintuitive AND unanalytical. It’s not an either-or scenario. But men love black-white, either-or dichotomies that put women permanently in the shit house when one category can be labelled a ‘woman’s category’, and thus, ‘inferior’.
Let’s get to men’s intuition. First, let’s say straight off that nobody refers to such a thing called intuition when it comes to men. But I’ve done a lot of thinking and omg, analysis of a phenomenon that has happened regularly in my life and, without a doubt, happens regularly in the lives of most, if not all, women. And it falls under this category of intuition, at least on a surface level.
Men frequently have ‘intuitions’ about women’s wants, needs, personalities, states of being, place in the world, etc., and they never fail to let us know, either verbally in advance or eventually, violently, after it is too late to escape, what they’ve concluded from these intuitions.
Before providing some examples of men’s intuitions, I’ll say two things. First, the intuitions/conclusions men come up with and actually tell us about in advance of serious violence are almost always completely wrong. And they are wrong because the intuitions are self-serving AND dangerous to the woman/women in question. Second, men’s real intuitions – the ones they WON’T tell you about verbally – are almost always correct, and are also self-serving and dangerous.
[Note: women’s intuitions are often self-serving too, BUT and this is a huge but, the intuitions are not dangerous to anyone. Even when they are wrong, they are not dangerous. But they sometimes hurt men’s precious and fragile little feelings.]
Let’s look at the first kind of male intuitions. The ones that are always wrong and dangerous and self-serving.
The verbalized intuitions/conclusions men draw fall into two categories, but there is one underlying theme. You are a target. You are prey. And the two categories are these. Positive (for him) – he has ‘intuited’ that he can get something from you that he believes you are offering. Most of the time, it is sexual in nature, but it could also be money, support, free labour. He has spotted some kind of weakness to exploit, in other words. He will frame his intuition in a way to show he can help you. These intuitions are wrong because women don’t naturally serve men unless coerced through violence or brainwashing. Or negative (for him) – he has ‘intuited’ that you are the enemy. He has realized that you are not open to his exploitation and he is going to try to put you straight in some way, including: shaming, guilting, psychological abuse, verbal abuse, physical abuse, and/or sexual abuse. He might end up killing you ultimately. While it might be true that you are not open to his exploitation, his intuition is wrong in that you, as a woman, don’t exist to destroy him. He is the destroyer. It is standard male projection that fuels this intuition.
Much of the time, when men choose to share these intuitions, they take a particular language form. “I can tell…” Man has looked at you, and he can just tell something about you from this cursory look. Whenever I hear one of these, I get very, very nervous, as through my REAL intuition and experience, I know that I have become a target for some kind of woman-hate-in-the-form-of-male-love-or-desire-or-need-to-help-me.
- I can tell from your face…
- I can tell from looking at your eyes…
- I can tell by the way you walk…
- I can tell by the way you are looking at me…
- I can tell from what you’re wearing…
- I can tell from the shape of your [insert body part here]…
I’ll give you an example. There are so many to choose from in my life. Likely, you can think of at least one of your own, and I truly hope, your own real intuition allowed you to get away as quickly as possible before, he acted on his incorrect intuition.
I can tell from your eyes, you are lonely and need a man.
Through 2009-2010, I once again found myself broke and almost living on the streets (yay white privilege!), and since a) I’m not attractive enough to be a prostitute/stripper, and b) I could never bring myself to do that anyway since I’ve had enough rape in my life, and c) I at least try to turn any indentured servitude I do into something beneficial learning-wise, I ended up doing a series of volunteer work/’internships’ within the realm of agriculture. The last one was with a beekeeper. I was seriously impoverished, and was forced to exchange some hard core physical labour for a place to sleep. Not actually a fair exchange. It never is for women, actually. Luckily, I liked the work a lot, but being really, really poor is a very scary place to be as a woman as you don’t have options and you can find yourself vulnerable to every single man around you with nowhere to run to.
And so it was when I answered the door to the ‘bee house’ where I lived and worked one day. I was expecting a delivery of all the pieces/parts to a massive greenhouse I was going to help assemble. The delivery guy was a middle-aged Russian or Eastern European. And he was an aggressive piece of shit who immediately started in with anger and accusations of things I couldn’t understand – just a general, underlying sense of violence filled the space around him and of course, me. I boldly told him: “I don’t understand why you are so angry with ME. I haven’t done anything to YOU.” This took him aback. It astounds me constantly how abusing women seems to be so many men’s natural state. It is so natural to them and unquestioned by the women they abuse that they don’t even notice it. And I have had endless problems with immigrant men OF ALL COLOURS who bring their extra abusive misogynist attitudes – which are accepted in their own countries – to the countries that welcome them and take it out on the local women they encounter. And the local women are expected to shut the fuck up since they are usually “privileged, rich, white bitches” of course, and let their ‘advanced’ cultures slide backwards into the Dark Ages. No fucking way.
Russian(?) fucker did make a switch in behaviour at that point, but it wasn’t any better. It was the same attitude, but coated with honey. He pulled the truck over to our driveway, and there was a fuck ton of really heavy shit to unload. I immediately began unloading it and carrying it the distance to a dry spot (it was pouring rain). And I tried to move quickly to get the ordeal over with and get rid of this asshat. He didn’t help other than to move the pieces to the motorized lift on the truck so that I could pick them up at ground level. And the rest of the time he spent just watching me. He commented, disbelieving, on how hard a worker I was. Um, yeah, I’m a woman. No fucking kidding, you piece of shit! I work harder than you. AND I’M NOT EVEN GETTING PAID! Like you are. In MY country. For doing nothing.
And then, it came. I was drenched, exhausted, scared, pissed off. It came. His magical intuition.
“I can tell from your eyes that you’re lonely and need a man.”
fuckyoufuckyoufuckyoufuckyoufuckyoufuckyoufuckyoufuckyou
I said, “Nope. Thanks for your help. I need to get back to my work.” I was terrified that he would come back. He knew I was alone. And he thought he could fill some kind of need that he intuited I had.
~~
Now, let’s briefly look at the second kind of men’s intuitions. These are the ones they WON’T tell you about – are almost always correct, and are also self-serving and dangerous.
Men are actually pretty good at determining one thing. They can tell how easy a prey a woman is or will be. There is some interesting research on male psychopaths, the ultimate hunters. They are incredibly good at reading female body language. For example, they can tell by the way a woman walks, how easy it will be to overpower her. Scary, but it does suggest to me that all women and girls should take martial arts classes to develop the confidence they need to put off opportunistic predators reading their subconscious body language… Anyhow, as men are constantly on the prowl for easy prey, they have to be on high alert for all the signs that make their lives and ultimate purposes easier. I’d argue that all men are like this to some extent. Not all men are psychopaths, but they all have the self-serving hunter in them. And all women are prey. The better they are at determining the high return for low effort ratio, the more successful they will be.
Now is this ‘intuition’? I’m not sure about that. There are elements that are similar to how women determine how dangerous a predator a man is. But if you can call it intuition, it is not very deep. It is a ‘gut sense’, but it isn’t based on deep connection with people or the earth or anything in the way that some aspects of women’s intuition are. They read body language, and rely upon experience to determine how far they can go with a woman towards her destruction, and the risk involved.
Regardless, what we can say is this: men are not very good at understanding women’s thinking, feelings, needs, wants or states of being. But they are, indeed, good at determining how good a mark women are based on our verbal and physical cues. And it’s all about predation.
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Freeing Women: Deprogramming and Reprogramming as First Steps
I decided last year that I had to transition. From Male-Focused to Female-Focused. I mean, a lot of women know that men harm them fundamentally and relentlessly on a daily/constant basis. But knowing is not the same as committing to doing something about it. Commitment is fucking hard, especially one that requires that you deconstruct an identity formed through years and years of 24/7 programming that goes against your nature, and to create a new one that has no model to which you can look for guidance or upon which to build.
Becoming a ‘natural woman’, by which I mean ‘free woman’, is uncharted territory, or perhaps undocumented territory is the better term, given how thoroughly men erase any evidence of women’s progress and even their basic existence beyond the second dimension. There are just so few amazing role models for women seeking to free themselves. Those few that exist are so thoroughly punished, excoriated, eviscerated by men, patriarchy, and frightened, brainwashed, penis-identified women, that you wonder whether it is even worth it to try even conservative emulation.
But you have to do it. You open your can of whoop ass, and you realize there is no going back. The price of self-immolation is too high. You start to see all of these things about yourself – evidence of your brainwashing – and you know you can’t continue. You realize even the ‘nice guys’ you have in your life aren’t really that nice. They, too, use you, and will turn on you the moment you fail to fall in line. You realize that despite your independent spirit, you do all the things you hate about male-identified women’s behaviour.
You realize that deprogramming is going to be much harder than just making realizations. It will take time and effort and repetition. But realizations, acceptance and commitment to change are the first steps. Negative automatic behaviours – we’ll call them acts of femininity compliance – must be noticed, stopped mid-action, and then replaced with positive, new programming. And yes, it is new programming until you can successfully remove detrimental behaviours, free yourself, and then have options for how you deal with the world.
Given that I have a weird, very isolated, and highly unhealthy life in China, my first real opportunity to test out the 1) noticing, 2) interrupting, and 3) replacing methodology for freeing myself, was my recent trip to the US. Just being in a more social, human-interaction-oriented country offered so many more opportunities for me to test out behaviour in a variety of situations. I’ve probably inadvertently provided examples of pro-feminist behaviour in some of my previous posts. This one is a good example. In a previous life, I almost certainly would have engaged more with the male narcissist. I might have listened to him, provided him his energy supply at my great expense (especially as an introvert with limited people-oriented energy stores). But using my methodology, I (a) recognized the role he wanted me to play, (b) stopped my automatic, compliant behaviour, and (c) reprogrammed my response to benefit me instead of him. And he didn’t like it. And that, primarily, demonstrated the success and promise of my endeavour, and now I need to repeat, repeat, repeat, until it becomes my natural response to male narcissistic demands for my attention and energy.
There were other examples, some small (but still important), and others that were really significant. An example of the latter came in the form of dealing with two long-standing relationships with men. I wrote about one of them a few times, including here and here. And there was a second one whom I consented to meet with before I left, that I don’t want to write about because it is very personal and very difficult. But the essence of both situations is this: I had kept two males in my life for a long time. I put up with and explained away their misogynist treatment for years since they were Liberal Nice Guys™ instead of blatant, raging MRAs. And they caused me frequent pain, which I suppressed in order to maintain the relationships. Well, these recent interactions went differently, even though they were incredibly difficult. I (a) recognized the roles they expected me to play / what they wanted to take from me, (b) stopped my automatic, compliant behaviour, and (c) reprogrammed my response to benefit me instead of them. My interactions with these types of guys had previously been part of cycles of abuse. They hurt me, I spend an enormous amount of time explaining my feelings, my hurt, etc. The don’t quite apologize, but do just enough to placate me, and then shit goes back to the way it was only to build up to another abusive event. I stopped that. I didn’t explain myself. I acted. I walked away. I gave them what they gave me – the bare minimum – instead of what they wanted/needed. And although it hurts now, I know I did the right thing, and I have begun building a model of behaviour that I can rely upon if forced to enter relationships with men in the future. It is impossible to avoid them completely in this world, after all. And with respect to one or both of these dudes described above, I unfortunately need to keep them in the periphery of my life, at least for now. But I don’t need to maintain the abusive cycle of the relationship anymore.
To sort of wrap this up, I’ll say the following. If you can find a female partner/friend (or group) in this endeavour, I highly recommend it. Being able to review what you’ve done/learned with someone, having someone support you and comment and make suggestions, and getting positive reinforcement for your successes (because sometimes they feel like pain rather than success and you wonder if you did the wrong thing) is so very important. Many women don’t have this, and they must navigate their struggle on their own. Support is invaluable. But if you don’t have it now, you shouldn’t stop yourself from heading down the road to healing and rebuilding.
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Wolves in Women’s Clothing: A New Collection
Just an announcement that I’ve started a new series, or collection might be a better word, in the right side bar. Once you get writing for a while, certain themes become apparent. The new collection deals with the people who pretend to support women’s concerns, but who have ulterior motives.
We’re talking about ‘liberated’ men, male ‘feminists’, male ‘acti
vists’, transfolk (specifically MtT’s), liberal ‘feminists’, and very occasionally women who seem to walk the talk of radical feminism, but who may eventually cave under pressure to support particular male rights that hurt women.
Anyhow, the collection can be found here.
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Conversations with Men: You’re White, So Put Down Your Lunch and Give Me a Blow Job
I’m baaack. Not that it matters to online readers, since we all transcend time and place here, but I’m back in China after 3 incredibly long weeks in the US.
Get set. I’m about to drag another one screaming from the vault. While I have much to talk about that is more current or more recently on my mind or related to events during my travels, I think it was my trip back to Asia the other day via a Taiwanese airline, sitting beside a few Taiwanese folk on the long first leg of the trip, and then spending an exhausting 9-hour layover in the Taipei airport in the middle of the night, that stirred up some memories.
I lived in Taiwan for a couple of years in the early part of this century, and it was rough. As rough as living in mainland China? Jeez, that’s hard to say. China is probably worse in many ways. But Taiwan is no picnic either. I was younger, fresher, less apocalyptic than I am now. I still had so much to learn then. And learn I did. Taiwan was full of hard lessons that have helped shape me, helped turn me into the tough, middle-aged, jaded, hard-to-disappoint-further, been-there-done-that woman that I am today.
Before I get into the story, I want to talk a little about this thing called ‘white privilege’. First, I’ll just say that ‘white privilege’ is a thing, but I want to talk specifically about what it means and where it applies. You see, even though it is a real thing – for men – it is also a buzzword used by Western people to shut other people (mostly women, mostly white women) up. Westerners forget that they usually cannot apply Western socio-political models to non-Western countries. We are taught that in all cases and in all places, whites rule. But on the ground, in individual countries, it is easy to see that that isn’t actually true. Racism isn’t a black and white issue like misogyny is. The ‘white privilege’ trope is Western liberal-speak / non-think, and typically it is people who have never lived – and I mean, really lived – in a non-white-ruled country who scream the loudest about this non-existent, international white privilege, and also who point the finger at white women to shoulder all of the blame for what white men have done throughout history.
So, I’ll tell you how this works based on my experience living and working for about 8 years among the ‘real people’ (not staying in 5-star hotels working for international corporations and making 6, 7, or 8 figures a year) in countries with non-white rule. There is no such thing as ‘white privilege’ in a country where there are no white nationals and no whites in political office or policy shops. There are countries where white men came in and wreaked havoc on local populations (especially the women), ruled for a while, and then left. While there, they would have had white privilege, and now that they don’t rule, they don’t. The race that rules has to have political, legal, and economic power in that country. They don’t have to have to be the demographic majority, they just have to have the political, legal, and economic power. And extremely important, racial privilege is predominantly a male thing. Nowhere do women have political, legal or economic power to rival men. The only time a woman can have any claim to racial privilege is among women, and even then, the power isn’t that great. Women just don’t have much power. Period. And race does not win over sex. A woman of the ruling race does not have power or advantage over a man of the non-ruling race. That is true everywhere in the world. We see that with the recent horrors in Germany. Muslim men have relentlessly attacked white women in a country where there is ‘white privilege’, but the crimes are being hushed up. It’s as if they didn’t happen. The women have been blamed and controlled and continue to suffer and are terrified. The non-white men have been coddled and are allowed to stay and continue what they’re doing. People feel sorry for them. Penis trumps vagina, regardless of race. Always. Always. Always.
In Taiwan, there is Asian privilege, and it applies to the Taiwanese males of the country (except in groups of women, where Taiwanese women will have Asian privilege over non-Asian, non-Taiwanese women). White men may be given some respect or consideration because they are men and because their success and riches are envied by the world. White women are not respected, however. They will get attention, but it is not the enviable kind. The attention a white woman is given is based solely on what women everywhere in the world get attention for: their physical attributes – specifically, their fuckability– which is decidedly not power. ‘Sexual power’ – a term invented by men and lib-fems to mean attention from and ability to distract men due to being highly fuckable – is not power.
And so with that out of the way, I bring you another tale from the Conversations with Men series and White Girl series. Enjoy, enjoy!
~~~
Rewind to 2004: I had spent my first 14 months in Taiwan as a workaholic living in the small, over-crowded, and very polluted city of Taipei. I had worked 6-7 days a week. I had a primary job that secured me my work visa, and a whole bunch of little jobs on the side in publishing, editing, writing and teaching. Part-way through 2004, I decided to cut back on the work and started studying Mandarin formally and regularly. There were aspects of this life that I liked, but there was a lot that was unacceptable and that I wouldn’t put up with nowadays. Even with the work-focus change, and with the increase in free time that went with it, life didn’t improve that much, and that was 100% due to the racism-misogyny, white whore special that I was experiencing, but not quite seeing for what it was.
I had been living near Liberty Square (not the name when I lived there), which is a fabulous little park with winding paths surrounding three major monuments/buildings, including the National Theatre and the National Concert Hall. It’s a great place at any time of day for exercise, meeting up with friends, or quiet contemplation.
Or at least I thought it was until one day at noon.
With my greater free time in my second year there, I sometimes went to this park to find a quiet bench on which to eat my lunch and read. I was in the middle of doing just that when a man came up to me. He approached slowly with his wallet out. Without any attempt at verbal communication, he began indicating through body language that he wanted me to suck his dick, and that he would pay me for it. I noticed a male friend of his waiting in the distance to see what would happen. Was he offering me money for the both of them? Just him? I had no idea. I told him to get lost and used a hand motion to indicate I was sweeping him away from me. He persisted. Insisted. Took the (pitifully low amount of) money out of his wallet and started shaking it in my face. Pointed at his groin. Pointed aggressively at my mouth. Friend in the distance, laughing and looking eager, nervous, antsy. I couldn’t get rid of him. For some reason, he had decided that I, with short hair and no make-up, in my trousers and short-sleeved, men’s buttoned shirt and sensible shoes, sitting on a bench eating my lunch, with a book in one hand, was obviously on prostitution duty. I will tell you this. There could have been no mistaking me for a prostitute. It was simply this:
I was a white woman.
He was male and the dominant race.
I existed as a whore to service his cock, just like all white women in the world.
I knew I was in danger. Even though I was not yet clued into the idea that I was experiencing misogyny and racism on a daily basis, instead of just ‘bad luck’, I did know that I was in serious danger. I quickly left the bench, lunch and book in hand and ran. I ran like hell. Despite it being broad daylight with lots of people around, I wasn’t safe. And strangely, almost all of the ‘Asian man assaults’ I have experienced have been in broad daylight with people around and not giving a shit. Sometimes watching me be assaulted. Apathetically. White whore. Look at what they do in our country. They make trouble.
Needless to say, the park was ruined for me. Lunch never happened there again.
I’ve been talking to folks recently about the Burning Times and the whole thing about dicks in a box. And as I was writing this post, I thought wryly, when a woman orders a boxed lunch*, she definitely doesn’t want dick on the menu… Not related, but the mind does what it does.
*aka ‘packed lunch’ or ‘brown bag lunch’
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My Special Group of One: The Problem with Intersectionality
Years and years ago, when I started my first round of grad school, I got a tiny, simple tattoo that made the tattoo artist laugh because it was the easiest money he’d made in a long time. I’d wanted an important reminder, and did a ton of research to find the perfect symbol for that reminder. The reminder was that I had a tendency to overthink and overcomplicate things and I wasted a lot of time trying to figure out which steps to take. My dithering was stressful, and in graduate school, there is enough stress from external sources that you don’t need to add more of your own.
The symbol was historically and scientifically important, and to me, signified the idea that simple solutions tend to be the best way of going about things, even when problems are complex. I haven’t always heeded my reminder, but I have saved myself some grief because of it. And it has stayed helpful in many areas of life – it wasn’t just useful or applicable in my grad school world of scientific inquiry.
I approach feminism in this way, too. Although many of the problems women face in this world are complex, the best way to approach them is actually incredibly simple. And a non-intersectional, radical feminist approach is one that works the best. It starts with a basic, true, inclusive premise that all women need to be liberated from the sex-based oppression of all men.
All women, women as a class – the XX people – no matter where in the world they live, what language they speak, what colour their skin is, how much money they have, how attractive or intelligent or able they are, or what they are wearing
Are held against their will and nature, through violence and the threat of violence, under sex-based oppression
By all men, men as a class – the XY people – no matter where in the world they live, what language they speak, what colour their skin is, how much money they have, how attractive or intelligent or able they are, or what they are wearing.
But all of those details aren’t necessary. The basic premise includes all of that by definition. By all women, we mean all women. And by all men, we mean all men. Period.
One of the worst and most divisive things to happen to feminism, and which likely made men laugh, relax and order up another beer from the bar wench, was the introduction of intersectionality. You see, there is nothing like focusing on our differences to break down solidarity over our very important commonalities. Feminism is, at its root, about men’s oppression of women. With the introduction of intersectionality, women stopped focusing on male oppression and started pointing fingers at their fellow women as their major enemies. Very basically, women, in their fight to stop doing men’s dirty support work for free, ended up doing even more of men’s dirty support work for free.
And we saw horrible things happen. And it is getting worse and more violent towards individual groups of women as we speak.
- White women became solely responsible for racism
- Rich women (who are all apparently white) became solely responsible for homelessness, poverty, illness, capitalism, the poor education system
- Able women became solely responsible for the prevalence of mental illness, the cost of medication, lack of health services, misdiagnosis
- Educated women (who are all apparently white) became responsible for the Pink Ghetto, the rising cost of education, grammar snobbery, learning disabilities and dyslexia, massive and sudden male failure in school, and lack of job opportunities for the uneducated
- Single women became solely responsible for the breakdown of the family and the ’emasculation’ of entire nations of men
- Childless women became solely responsible for the race war (the race that produces the most children wins!!!), declining birth rates (like that’s a bad thing???), and posing threats to working women with children
- Atheist women became solely responsible for natural disasters (magical religious thinkers have told us) and the breakdown of entire societies and social orders
In short, every single problem that has actually been caused and exacerbated and maintained by men suddenly found an easier blamable target cause: some specific group of women. Through intersectionality, women were able to ‘other’ other women and blame them for their problems. Attacking other women a) was safer since women generally aren’t violently retaliatory, and b) garnered huge support and ‘rewards’ from men. For example, black women who demand that black men become accountable for and actually stop raping them might find themselves in further danger at the very hands and dicks of black men. But by making up a story and blaming a powerless group of women, such as white women, for black male rapeyness, they garner support in all communities, including confused, over-guilt-burdened, activist, white women, themselves. White women, in fact, have nothing to do with black men raping anyone, but it has become a popular way of saving men from taking responsibility for anything they do. And besides, it makes great press. Men control the press. And it is very hard to stop the domino effect of delusional and persecutory thinking once it starts.
Another major problem with intersectionality is the competitive atmosphere, and the derailing and thought-stopping behaviour that it creates in discussions of reality. No longer can a group of women come together to discuss female oppression without things going off track as soon as someone says something unpopular. People lose focus of the fact that they all have a common experience and begin to form groups, ‘other’ each other, and focus on individual feelings and individual experiences. These individual experiences are held up to a measuring stick of oppression and it becomes a typical male pissing contest over who has been hurt the most, and even worse, who is allowed to speak given their level of bona fide hurt. Those who are perceived to be less hurt or less oppressed lose credibility and even status as a woman. A white woman’s rape becomes less important than an aboriginal woman’s rape. A middle class woman’s beating becomes a joke next to a poor woman’s beating. A mentally healthy (whatever that means) woman’s workplace harassment becomes infinitely less significant than that of a woman with autism. It is disgusting to watch unfold, and unfold it does. The nastiness, slurs, hatred, silencing tactics, and sometimes outright banning or banishing can spring forth in the blink of an eye. It’s so gross that I’ll wonder to myself, how can you determine the relative horribleness and validity of two women’s victimizations? How can you deny compassion to one woman simply because you don’t like her supposedly ‘privileged’ status? Oftentimes, the privilege we *think* a woman has isn’t quite what we want it to be, if it even exists at all. Not that we’ll ask her. Her truth might humble us and destroy our vendetta/agenda. Stereotyping hurts and perpetuates ignorance and violence. But men and their institutions (media, law, etc) work to keep sister-hate going. The play that men give to women’s ‘problems’ in the news has nothing to do with women oppressing women, even thought it might be presented or interpreted as such. Women who care about women don’t downplay other women’s realities, traditionally. Men do. Don’t forget that. All men oppress all women, directly and/or indirectly, and we need to bond over that fact alone. We need to believe each other, listen to each other, and support each other. Accusing and blaming women for something they had nothing to do with – like colonization or rape, for example – serves men, not yourself and not women as a class.
And yet another problem with intersectionality is not knowing when to stop dividing. At some point, we all find ourselves in groups of one according to our unique disadvantages. It is important for data collection and research purposes to know what women face on a detailed level. Complex issues should be studied and approached while armed with this knowledge. I’m not advocating for group blindness or erasing. I have my own pet groups that in my world, deserve more of my attention than others. Personally, I am quite concerned with the oppression of elderly women and of single, childless women, and I believe they are two of the most vulnerable groups in the world, regardless of culture. They are also two groups that get almost NO attention. But I won’t derail a feminist discussion or effort or activism in order to demand their immediate attention by all. If I want to call attention to oppression of elderly women or to that of single, childless women, I will either form my own group, or I will join a group focusing on these populations and their issues. All while also being part of general feminist groups/discussions. And I would ask the same of any other sub-group member. You’re a woman first, and you are also part of other groups that can be of equal importance TO YOU. To date, things have not worked like this. Established groups are infiltrated and shamed, derailed and forced to deplete already limited resources in order to be ‘inclusive’ to every single sub-group of women (and sometimes of non-women, i.e., MtTs). I believe these derails weaken feminism, which is supposed to work to benefit all women by focusing on the common oppression. It is unreasonable to demand that sub-group interests take precedence over general interests – and that applies to anything, not just feminism. General mandates apply to all members; group-oriented, specific mandates only apply to a few, and suddenly you find you have several mandates and a broken, distrusting, self-protective group of groups. No solidarity is possible when everyone is too special and self-involved to focus on a very clear, central mandate.
Divide and conquer. Maybe not the original intention of intersectionality, but it is certainly the outcome. Ask a male ‘feminist’ how much he loves shaming women with perceived ‘privilege’ instead of focusing on what he and other men gain from oppressing women. When we’ve got men enthusiastically on board with showering particular groups of women with hate, then you know that’s not feminism you’re doing.
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What Does It Mean if I Find You Neither Endearing nor Horrifying?
Still travelling, still stuck in Doodville. Two more nights. Like infants, the doods demand constant attention and to suck at the collective tit of Woman. Some more than others. Most women deliver. Fawning. Patiently listening with an interested look. Cooing, clucking, nodding. Reassuring. Building up their confidence and egos. Laughing at their rape and ‘dumb ho’ jokes. Tee hee, you’re right, girls are so [insert misogynist stereotype here]. For the pathologically narcissistic of them, you could be lying there, clearly dying, with a knife protruding from your throat, and they’d still keep up with their demands on your energy. Yap, yap, yap.
I’m puzzled and perhaps only slightly amused by a new dichotomy presented to me by an egotistical, but untalented, ‘travelling artist’. He fascinates himself. He is tickled by what a jerk he is and its effects on the women he comes across during his travels and the female students he instructs (apparently he teaches some art class somewhere – details apparently not necessary to the casual inquirer, I discovered). He fully admits with a scary, psychotic laugh, that he enjoys how he treats people. Disapproval, insults. He said it makes fledgling artists better and they usually thank him later. Who knows if that’s true. We live in a mandatory S&M world where abuse is seen as positive attention and even love. So maybe he’s right on a surface level.
But Artiste says that in general, women either find him endearing or they find him completely horrifying, both of which he enjoys, but he says he clearly prefers the former. This means he gets laid, although, I suspect, given how this world brainwashes women and as evidenced through every bloody romantic comedy out there (those misogynists are so damned sexy, aren’t they?), those horrified women let him fuck them too.
But where do I fit in? I’ve thrown this guy for a loop because I find him neither endearing nor horrifying. He is boring, typical, standard, an EveryMan. And my reaction, or perhaps non-reaction is the better word, to him clearly rubs him in a way that he is not used to. I’m waiting for Gowan to pop out of nowhere and sing the chorus to ‘You’re a Strange Animal’. Artiste waxes on loudly about himself to anyone who enters the room. I can see him looking at me from the corner of my eye. “Why isn’t she paying attention? I don’t understand how this reaction fits in to my schema.”
This morning, he sat down across from me at the breakfast table, and I didn’t look up from the newspaper and my coffee. Somehow, even as he loudly started announcing things about his newly shaved head and the reasons for doing so, and how often he does this, and how much time the hair takes to grow back in, I registered nothing. I mean really, who gives a shit? I was busy reading about a local firefighter who had taken a teenaged girl as a sex slave, raping her continually. She got away and is telling her story. She will be labelled as a whore. You can see the set up in the language. “She had sex with him many times…” I put the paper down before finishing. I left the table and the hair monologue. A woman from the room I was staying in came in as I was preparing to get up, an apparent ‘nurse’ with tracks and several healed, self-inflicted cuts on her arms and wrists. Ignoring me, she entered the ‘he’s endearing’ camp and was enticed out to Artiste’s van to look at his collection of masterpieces. He has enough groupies. I’m not one of them.
Look at my hair cut, I’m endearing/horrifying, pay attention to meeeee, trusted community protector rapes teenaged slave repeatedly, teenaged girl is a slutty whore, not a victim… its all on the same continuum of male domination and narcissism and violence, violence, violence against women. It’s the sea we’re all forced to swim in.
Can someone please make it all stop? Make men stop. Make them accountable. Take away the entitlement. There aren’t enough goddess sessions to counter it all. What does it mean that I’m bored and tired rather than endeared or horrified? I think it means that I’m opposing the social order. I’m behaving naturally, and it’s a very simple, but threatening, position to take.
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Goddesses Meet, Talk, Bond, Fuel Up
When you’re travelling on a budget, you often find yourself staying in places of the more communal sort. Youth hostels (which are not just for the young) are a good example of this kind of accommodation. Dorm rooms are usually sex-segregated (oh jeez, have the effing trannies infiltrated those as well??? Life used to be simpler.) Some places will have a mixed dorm which is slightly cheaper – as in, if you’re a woman, you can pay less for greater access to pervs looking at you and a higher risk of being raped in your bed. Very, very occasionally, you’ll run across a women-only hostel. I stayed in the fabulous Frauenreisehaus in Christchurch, NZ years ago. Sadly, an earthquake got it and it is closed. I’ve heard rumour of a hostel with a separate women’s wing in Perth, Australia. And these are not battered women’s shelters. These are regular budget accommodations with the good sense to recognize that the world isn’t a friendly place for women travellers, especially those without much money and who are travelling solo. (I’ve written a little about the differences between men’s and women’s travel experiences before.) The energy in women-only places is different. Safe. Healthy. Conversation doesn’t revolve around the men staying there, (since there are no men) who are, for the most part just looking for a one-night stand with an anonymous, cute, young traveller. You think I exaggerate? Let me tell ya, honey. I’m an experienced traveller. I’ve seen it all. Hell, I’ve been that anonymous, cute, young traveller and I’ve heard all the lines, all the mesmerizing accents, and seen how easily hostels are mismanaged in such a way to put female travellers in grave danger and to create a fertile hunting ground for males. I’ve fantasized about running a women’s hostel of my own. Women need safe places to sleep and rest and refuel.
I’ve gotten pickier over the years as I’ve gotten older and less tolerant of danger and discomfort. I don’t earn much, but I also don’t travel much anymore, and I live an incredibly spartan lifestyle in China. So when I do travel, and I’m not staying with friends, I no longer put myself in dangerous and uncomfortable situations if I can help it. I strongly dislike sharing rooms with people, I hate bunk beds, and I don’t like being in parts of town centred in the middle of all the clubs and bars. But hostels that allow men (which is most of them), even if you splurge and get yourself a private room, can be infected with the male voice, which can grate on your brain like nails on a blackboard even if you hone your skills in tuning them out. I stayed in one place in China which seemed to have such little discretion that dangerous, woman-hating men were allowed to stay. One psychotic, Middle-Eastern nutjob walked into the common area, and unimpressed with the selection of women travellers present, shouted “Where are all the fucking bitches!?!” In the same place, the desk staff gave my room number to a nasty Australian man who was trying to follow me around and tell his boring stories to. And oh yeah, in the same place, this PUA Indian man who was trying to immigrate to my country (yes please!), after trying to get sex from me and failing, asked me if I wished I could have Asian skin, since they were much more attractive than me…
But if you can avoid the men, you do run into goddesses – and I don’t mean that in any religious or spiritual sense as I’m an atheist and materialist and don’t feel the need to come off as enlightened or to barely suppress a secret smile over having achieved a soulfulness/mindfulness/gratitude tier that those around me obviously haven’t. No, I mean goddesses in the ‘awesome women’ sense. I always meet a few on my travels. They are not always feminists in the way that I am. But that isn’t always the most important thing in the formation of an immediate bond. In my current location, which is infected with doods, I had a Goddess Session. This one, like all of them, happened unexpectedly. And like all of them, it was healing, gynergy-generating, insight-giving, and mutually burden-lightening. My fellow Goddess, to whom I will give credit for this post as she is the one who recognized a kindred spirit and named what was happening in the way that I have here. And while we shared only an hour of talk and emotion and non-judgment, we probably smoothed over hours and hours and even days and weeks of toxic male infiltration of our souls and beings. At the parting, she related something a friend had told her, “the road will be hard, but you will meet angels along the way.” I’m not religious/spiritual in any way, but I got the gist of it. We had just experienced evidence of the truth of the essence of this statement. And we were ready to face the day’s challenges as a result.
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A World Without Women
[This is part of the Year of the Fantasy series.]
Upon first glance, at least at the title, you might have clicked over assuming that I fantasize about a world without women. Some of you may have even popped a boner at the idea of not having women around at all. Finally. Yeah no. That’s not it. While this is a series devoted to my fantasies (not sexual ones ya big perv), I’m presenting this one not as what I would like the world to be like, but as a sort of satisfying daydream about what men would be in for if they did away with us for good. It’s pseudo-companion-piece to this one where I give a cursory, fantastical look at a world without men. I say with a straight face that women would easily, not only survive, but thrive, if men didn’t exist. We can create life without them, after all. Thank you science! Not so for men. I’d argue that they don’t do away with us for good because a) they can count on (the majority of) us to tolerate the horrific woman-abuse that they impose on us as a condition of being allowed to exist and that they thrive on and would be lost without, and b) they know they would be doomed to extinction if we ceased to exist. Biologically, women can exist without men. Men cannot biologically survive past a single generation without women. They could become cyborgs, perhaps, which is a hilarious thing to comtemplate.
I look at this fantasy with a superior, pitying eye – the kind that girls and women silently give when watching as a boy or man prepares to do something really fucking stupid. We know what will happen when, say, he builds a ‘ski jump’ on his roof so that he can ride his dirt bike off it, do a flip in the air and then land in the backyard swimming pool while his best bud videos the whole thing. We women know he sucks at math and physics, we know he will land, not in the pool but on his ass or head, and break his arm or leg in the process (which we will then be stuck paying for and taking care of). But we are women, he is a man and ‘knows better’, and besides as a man, he will be given recognition and cocksucking from both men and women for being such a smart and brave jackass. We clean it all up, suck his cock along with everyone else, and the world continues its nosedive into the cosmic bin because of another Great Man’s contribution to humanity.
So let’s take a look.
Although homophobia or gay-hate is rooted very clearly and directly in woman-hate, I do believe the beliefs, behaviours and practices of extreme gay male culture à la post-Stonewall scene (described with plentiful references in Sheila Jeffreys’ “Unpacking Queer Culture”) can provide us with some insights into what a womanless world would look like. In other words, while woman-hate would no longer be a significant influence in how men think and behave, many of the thinking processes and behaviours currently practised by ‘liberated’ gay men would hold.
If you do any reading into either straight or gay male ‘thinking’, and I refer to those men who think they are being transgressive or liberated or true to the essential male ideal (and I find gay men much more honest about what they believe and want than straights, in general, for very obvious reasons), you’ll see that absolutely everything revolves around their penises. Everything. Absoultely everything. And it is a very, very, very adolescent philosophy (if you can call it that). Extremely narcissistic, extremely immature, extremely short-sighted, extremely destructive, and extremely sadistic. The very nature of the thinking is antithetical to longevity, creation, planning, and sustainability. I think it would be a very difficult world to live in for men who actually attempt to think. They would be hated, probably in similar ways to how women are hated.
Without women, men would need to have an underclass. The only reason our current world has lasted as long as it has is because women have always been held as slaves expected to do unpaid labour of all sorts and to clean up after and/or mitigate male damage and disasters. Women are enslaved based on their sex and specifically their ability to create life. So how would subordination work if you only have one sex and you can’t impregnate them? It is anyone’s guess. I suspect it would be based on sheer size and strength and ‘intelligence’, just like in the animal world. I think men would return to an animal state, although with much more of a focus on sex than any other species on earth. Men would die much more frequently than they do now at men’s hands, and even more frequently than women do at men’s hands.
It would be a much more violent world than we have ever seen. Women are not a violent sex, so we don’t generally fight back when men try to detroy us with their violence. Without women, men would be victimized and they would fight back. Violence would be constant. It would be a bloodbath.
Disease would be rampant. Not just general disease from lack of nutrition or self-care. We are as healthy as we are because of women. Women are biophiles. We take care of the body, including men’s and boys’ bodies. Without women, male health would falter. But it wouldn’t just be basic disease, it would be sexually transmitted disease. We have as much sex-disease that we do because of men, specifically gay men living risky lifestyles. Bisexual men, including closeted homosexuals who perform hetero-sex to keep up public appearances, will fuck men and then take their diseases home to spouses/girlfriends or to prostitutes. This has always been true. Secret, unsafe, gay sex (and probably sex with animals, since men will fuck literally anything, animate or inanimate, as data from hospitals, psychologists, and self-report, show) led to disease transmission among men and then into the heterosexual world to innocent women. So a world without women would be a disease-ridden world.
There would be little progress intellectually. There would be no women to steal from. There would be no women to keep men on track or to hold them responsible for anything. The few men who might be concerned about keeping the species going would have a very rough time. It would be hard because men can’t create life as women can. Sperm isn’t a life creator. Women’s bodies are the life creators. And sperm isn’t actually as important as men want us to believe. So male ‘thinkers’ would need to come up with a way to engineer life without the benefit of women. And competing with a massive, unregulated, violent, male population unconcerned with anything but sex and domination, would be near impossible.
The world would be filthy. Men don’t connect with the earth and environment in the way that women do. Men see the world as something to be conquered and exploited. Women know their bodies are connected with nature on a very fundamental level. Men choose to use and discard. You can see this with the fairly recent obsession with exploring Mars. “We’ve destroyed Earth. But hey, let’s find another planet to abuse.” It’s always this way with men. Everything is replaceable. Everything is unlimited. Without women, the world would be like a bachelor pad. Stinky, filthy, unnavigable, toxic, waiting for someone to take care of it. Waiting forever.
This is a cursory look at what I fantasize the world without women would look like. I suspect that I’m not far off the money on this. Men would all be dead within a generation and most of them would, like many of the post-Stonewall gay men during the HIV epidemic (as documented in several sources), embrace death and seek to take as many down with them as possible.
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How I Lost My Smile
I hope I won’t meander too much here. This isn’t a straightforward little Aesop’s Fable with a sweet little bottom line. It’s involved, layered, and there is no clear conclusion. Just something I’ve been thinking about for years and that I continue to think about as I experience more and more and find myself further down that downward spiral that is life as a woman.
Let’s just start with this: Canadians are miserable fuckers. I’m saying this as a Canadian and one who tries to spend as little time there as is humanly possible. As evidence, despite my great boredom on ‘holiday’ here in the US from China, and despite the fact that I have a piece of business I need to take care of up North, I’ve decided not to cross the border. I just hate the place. A small part of it is that Canadians are miserable fuckers. Various data/polls even show it. I remember a comparison poll I once read about done by the airline industry on the differences between Canadians and Americans, and they found that the number one thing American airline passengers hated was fellow passengers who brought too much carry-on luggage. Canadians? The number one hated thing was strangers sitting next to them trying to talk to them. Yeah, miserable fuckers.
But it’s all relative. Canadians are, for example, much, much friendlier and more helpful than the Chinese who are some of the rudest, most selfish, emotionless and humourless assholes on earth. But we’ll get to that.
And I will say this, having disparaged my fellow countryfolk, friendliness varies depending on where you are in the country. I’ve travelled a fair amount in Canada, and I’ve lived in four of the 13 provinces/territories. Having grown up in one of the nastier parts of the country, it was a breath of fresh air to move to the West Coast. I’d say that about American geography, too. I’ve lived on both American coasts and also travelled through 25-30 of the 50 states. While Americans are much friendlier than Canadians, in general, the West is waaaay friendlier than the East. And I’m talking basic friendliness, not politics or ability to think, etc.
Living on the West Coast, and in particular, on the various islands is a different world. People look each other in the eye. Strangers say hello to one another on the streets. You strike up conversations with people at bus stops. You help your neighbours. And people smile. Could be the weather. I really do think better weather makes for more easygoinginess, in general. It’s not that simple, of course, but I think it plays in. So when I moved out there in my later 20’s, I felt myself relax, connect more easily. And I smiled a hell of a lot more.
If you don’t think about smiling in particular contexts and the meanings it can have, you can make the blanket statement that smiling is good for your health. I have felt that, and still do to this day. Exchanging an ‘unloaded’ smile (I’ll get to that in a moment) with a stranger can change your frame of mind and put a different spin on whatever is going on in your mind.
But then there are the ‘loaded’ situations. This is where men come in and ruin things for women like they ruin every fucking, innocent, positive thing on the planet with their filthy minds and need to humiliate and dominate.
It is dangerous to smile at or around men. It is also dangerous not to smile at or around men. Nothing is safe, but a blank look – the kind you see on rape victims or women destroyed by working in porn – is best. Smiling at or around a man can, TO HIM, mean, that you want him, want sex, want to be approached, are submissive and friendly and compliant, and are the perfect victim/prey. Not smiling, and even scowling, may invite sexual harassment, belittling requests for a smile (“Smile for me, honey. It’s not that bad.” Um, yes it is. Now that you’re talking to me.), or the seeing of you as a threatening bitch in need of punishment. Women are required to smile in order to make men feel like men and to help them get what they want from you. Fucking fuckers.
But having said all that, it is not Western men who made me lose my smile, although I will say that now that I have been permanently affected and my eyes are fully open, I don’t waste smile energy on them anymore.
No, I lost my smile due to long-term immersion in Chinese culture. And it took only a month for the first changes in my behaviour to occur.
I still remember my very first month in Taiwan. I’d gone directly from the West Coast of Canada – happy, smiley territory. I was bright-eyed and pleased to be working in a foreign land once again. Until I got there. Despite having a machine gun held up to my face by an aggressive young man on the second day I was there, I still remained my smiling self. But I realized something. Not only did the Taiwanese not return my smiles, ever, the only thing I ever saw were blank, robot-like faces, or just plain old disgust. It was bizarre, and very disheartening. Chinese culture discourages emotion. Emotion = bad, weak, out of control. Even fucking smiling.
Even the children don’t smile. Even most babies!!! Back in those days, in between my regular teaching, publishing, editing and writing jobs, I took on some private language-teaching sessions with the children of rich families. I had one weirdo kid – an 11-year-old boy from a very rich family – who had a freakish interest in out-moded English vocabulary and whose mother would enrol him in adult-level film classes (um…). And oh yeah, the kid refused to smile or even laugh because he thought it made him ‘look ugly’. I got him to engage in some tailored, fantasy/comedy-based murder-mystery story-writing centered on the strange-looking photos of the authors of one of his English books. His stories were hilarious and I laughed my ass off. The kid would start to laugh and then deliberately choked on it to prevent himself from getting all ugly. But I pushed and pushed and finally one day he started laughing and couldn’t stop. Every time I came by his home after that, to his mother’s confusion, the kid would spend the first five minutes laughing hysterically before exictedly whipping out the next instalment of his who-dunnit.
Jezus fucking christ. My biggest accomplishment in Taiwan. Forget the textbook I published, I got a fucking little kid to learn to smile and laugh. Pathetic.
I spent a couple of years in Taiwan, found myself changed fundamentally in a negative way, but not entirely smile-less. I returned to Canada for about 6 years. And then I went back to a culture I said I’d never return to, and I’ve been in Mainland China almost solidly for the past 6 years. The Mainland is even worse than Taiwan, which might be expected given the history and the sheer terror that communism wreaked on the country for so long. And having been there so long, I’ve had a lot of time to study and reflect on the culture and how I have adjusted to it and been mostly destoyed by it.
China killed my smile. It’s not that I am incapable of smiling. I do it a fair amount when warranted. It is much less automatic or natural though in these situations. But in public, outdoors, it never happens. Never in China. And while it has a significant effect on how I feel inside and my outlook, in general, it helps me dissociate, which is necessary when you are a white woman in China. It also saves me a lot of energy. I was quite surprised actually, when I began to analyze the effects of the implemented changes to my public demeanour in China. I used to try to be ‘present’ when I went out, and it was exhausting and demoralizing, especially because there was never any reciprocation from the Chinese. Once I started behaving like them, things became, I don’t know… streamlined? Energy-efficient? Self-centred? I’m not sure what the right word is. I mean, I absolutely hate the way it has changed me, but at the same time, I don’t feel exhausted every time I finish an outdoor ordeal. Going outdoors is always an ordeal. The funny thing is this: I know from feedback from some of my students, that they think I look angry or they are a bit afraid to approach me. But the thing is that I look exactly like them, expression-wise. Blank face. ‘Chinese face’ is what some of them call it. But as a Westerner, and especially as a woman, I am expected to be the kind and entertaining dancing monkey. Double standards. But it saves me energy and I don’t have to be concerned with how I appear when I don’t waste time on distorting my face into something I’m just not feeling. I want to feel nothing, so I put nothing on my face. It becomes easier and easier.
The double standards happen in the West, too – only for women though. We must be the happy slaves at all times. Men can wear whatever the fuck they want on their faces including murderous rampage or disgusting, rapey perv. They’re fine no matter what. Not so for women. Now that I’m visiting the US, I have relaxed a little, but I am much more economic and mindful of my smiling. Tons of women have smiled at me, and I smile back. No problem, and it feels good. I like women. I like the solidarity and energy I feel when exchanging a smile with one. But I don’t smile at men anymore. I try not to even look at them. I’m mindful of where they are in relation to my person, but I don’t look at them. And I don’t scowl. I adopt blank, trauma-face. It is the safest. And so far, so good. I am hyper-aware without perhaps appearing to be so. I come across perhaps as on a mission, hopefully ‘not prey’.
I hate that men and male culture have destroyed something so simple as smiling and relating positively to people. I don’t feel natural, comfortable, easygoing, or healthy. Thanks, China. Thanks, men. Thanks, international Patriarchy.
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Black American Men and the Air Crash Effect
Let’s talk about fantasy and reality, sensationalism and mundane facts, penis-loving and woman-hating.
The media loves a good story. The more gore and horror a story has, the more play it will get in the public eye. And the more attention it will receive. And the more distorted the facts surrounding the story will become. There will be a kernel of truth, and then the rest will be blown out of proportion and lead to the masses and very often the supposedly educated hordes going on an illogical rampage in a blood-thirsty, scapegoating frenzy, and society at large will adopt illogical, fear-based, hate-satisfying behaviour.
A good example of this phenomenon is perceptions of safety concerning air and auto-vehicular travel.
Many people are terrified of flying because they believe flying is more dangerous than driving or riding as a passenger in a motor vehicle. But if you look at actual data compiled by government or insurance organizations on number of accidents, number of accidents per miles travelled, the number of fatalities per million miles travelled, and odds of dying in a lifetime, you get a different story. No matter how you slice it, car travel is considerably more dangerous and the odds of dying in a plane crash (if you actually travel by plane – even a lot) are much, much lower.
But air crashes, on the rare occasion that they occur, are catastrophic and deliciously interesting. Being both rare and devastating, they end up getting a lot of play in the media. Car crashes, on the other hand are frequent, even deadly ones, so they don’t get worldwide (or even nation-wide) play. Let’s just say, if you want your name to live on after your death because you haven’t made it big by showing your tits in public (if you’re a woman) or perpetrating a school or workplace shooting (if you’re a male), your best bet is to fly and make sure your plane goes down. It works for Muslim extremists, so why not you? [Yeah, I said it. It’s true, so get a grip.]
Let’s call this ‘the air crash effect’: rare, extreme events get a) a lot of public attention, and b) lead to irrational conclusions. Air crash gets attention and people develop unjustified fear of flying.
Race and Sex: An Eye-Opening Comparison and the Stark Reality
Let’s apply this phenomenon to social problems. I’ll use a current, massive problem that has hit the radar in the US recently, but is having ripple effects in other countries. It is the old racism vs misogyny war.
Women are constantly silenced by liberal men (and women) when they attempt to talk about violence against women. This happens across history and in all countries. But we’re going to talk about the current American climate right now. The most common current argument is that cops are shooting black people right left and centre and that trumps the petty, indulgent, narcissistic claims of American women whose few rights are being fast eroded. So noticeable in fact that the UN has uncovered and given legitimacy to the claims of the deplorable state of women’s rights in what is supposed to be a country at the forefront of human rights. Women in the US are suffering and no one gives a shit or believes those few brave women who are speaking out, in other words.
At some point in the American collective subconscious, it was decided that women, who hurt more than any other group both in the US and on the planet, had to take a back seat to men of colour (many of whom abuse women, themselves). And the issue of the day is violence experienced by men of colour (specifically black men), and in particular, the killings of black men by police officers.
Now, before I dig in here, I want to be clear. I don’t use data reported by MRAs or right-wing or ‘concerned white male’ groups (aka: white supremacists). First, I don’t trust anything any and all men say about violence, regardless of colour. Second, I can’t stand MRA’s or any kind of racial supremacists or purists. Too much agenda, too much testosterone, and thus, lies, lies, lies – and even worse, the woman-hate. You never get racism without deep, frightening woman-hate. I don’t personally give a shit about which race ‘wins’. That is a male concern. Racism is a male invention and it is rooted in woman-hate. Men, concerned with who gets to fuck their slaves (women), get violent at the idea of men outside their racial group having access. That is where racism comes from. Men own the pussy of their own racial group and they’ll fight to the death to keep it that way.
So, back to the data. I prefer to look at the data that black activists themselves provide. They will either be accurate or exaggerated, and I’ll give them the benefit of the doubt, because it helps my argument, which I am basing in reality and on fact. According to black activist groups, fewer than 5 blacks (men and women) are killed by police per million (as compared with 2 per million for both whites and hispanics). [Note, I have found another more statistically-based site that offers raw data for 2015/2016 that 568 blacks were killed by cops in total in the US. Blacks are also the racial group most often armed with guns. Asians, for some reason, love knives more than any other – markedly so…] The majority are armed, mostly with guns, occasionally with knives. I have no reason to argue with these figures. I believe the activists. I am not a racism denier or cop apologist. And I don’t think people who are not committing crimes should be killed. If people are committing crimes, especially violent ones against women or girls, that is another matter entirely. Shootings of blacks by cops is a big deal and is widely reported in the news. Whether the cops are prosecuted is another matter.
And these killings are getting A LOT of play in the media, a lot of shouting and demonstrating by activists, and white liberals are completely on board and behaving the way they are supposed to by saying all the right things and silencing anyone who questions the data or anyone who would rather focus on larger social problems.
And so we get to those larger and longer-running social problems. We are getting to the car crashes. Violence against women. Cops killing black men is the deliciously salacious air crash, violence against women is the too common, too boring car crash. Let’s look at some conservative estimates (most women don’t report crimes against them, so these data are low-ball estimates of reality).
152,000 women per million are stalked. Remember, the number of blacks killed by cops is 5 per million. Also note that of all the women killed by their partners, more than 3/4 of them are terrorized through stalking first, and that is more than 5 women per million.
200,000 women per million are raped in their lifetime. Remember, the number of blacks killed by cops is 5 per million versus 200,000 raped women per million. And that is a very conservative estimate due to refusal to report, self-denial, mishandling and trashing of rape reports by law enforcers and hospitals, and doesn’t take into account multiple rapes by different men and repeated rapes by the same man/men. This figure is also conservative because of the very narrow, male definition of rape. And this figure doesn’t include sexual assault, sexual harassment, and other sexual terrorism. That figure would be 1,000,000 women per 1,000,000. And many of these women are living an aftermath that makes death look sweet and kind. Often, rape is the worst torture imaginable. Men can’t imagine. It doesn’t happen to them.
111,111 little girls per million are sexually abused by adults. The adults are almost always men and almost always men they know. 111,111 abused girls (who often go on to kill themselves, abuse drugs, develop mental illness, and fall into rape lifestyles of porn and prostitution) per million compared with 5 blacks per million. And this figure, unlike killings of black men, are hard to confirm or identify and vastly underreported.
15 women out of 100 rape victims will try to kill themselves because of what men, including black men, and cops of any race for that matter, consider to be harmless and natural and hilarious fun times. I think most rape victims at least think about killing themselves. And I think the figure is conservative as most women don’t talk about what has happened to them.
This is why I’m just not that concerned about a few killings compared to an insanely more prolific phenomenon. There is a REAL problem out there and that is men committing violent acts against girls and women. It is shameful and insulting to ignore, negate and erase the millions and millions of women suffering and dying at the hands of men of ALL COLOURS and including male police and men from all walks of life and all professions, from homeless men to male politicians and male doctors. It is insulting to erase the millions of women and what they suffer through in order to focus on a few very well-publicized killings of men. It is not my job to fight for (often) armed black men. I support innocent women and girls victimized simply for existing while female. A woman doesn’t even need to leave her home or even her bed to be brutalized.
Bottom Line
For most people, their thinking is greatly affected by what they read in or hear on the news. We have brains so that we can think critically, analyze information, ask important questions, and draw correct conclusions. Our media tell us what is important, and what is important has little to do with reality, facts, and statistics/numbers. Importance wears a penis. That penis has many colours, but it is still a penis, and reality is bent to accommodate and support that penis.
When you look at the numbers, the facts, reality, you see that it is still safer to take a plane than drive a car, and it is certainly safer and better to be male than female regardless of your race in this world. And in the specific example here, it is safer to be a black male than a woman of any colour in the US. Regardless of what liberals tell you and how loudly. There is no shortage of black men despite the fact they are being *constantly* killed by police (5 per million), but women are being raped right, left and centre (200,000+ per million) and living with the aftermath of that torture, the negation or erasure of their ordeals, and the physical complications for the rest of their lives.
Another Oppressed White Male is Liberated by Yours Truly
Last night, I went to bed lighter, but with a heavy, heavy heart. Only if you have felt it yourself do you know what that phrase ‘heavy heart’ means. The words don’t do the feeling justice. All at the same time, you feel like something hard and weighty has crept into the space where your heart should be, a coldness invades you as emotion sears you from the inside out, you feel like you are slowly and uncontrollably, physically sinking. It is weird, and I don’t feel like I can describe its complexity.
As I lay down, I felt some relief, but more poignantly, a bottomless sadness bordering on despair. The layers of this despair are many and might be better understood through a reading of all of my posts. But this post alone will convey at least the sadness part of my emotional state, and perhaps some of the relief too.
I’ve had to let go of another misogynist male in my life.
In the space of four months, this is the second important and long-term relationship I have nixed. Both men, both from California, both uber-liberal ‘nice guys’. Not self-professed feminists (thank goodness), but guys who are totally on board with opposing (not fighting) racism (against males is the unspoken part, I’ve realized). It is fucking hard to end a long-term relationship. But it is harder to accept being treated as less. It is harder to silently accept really sexist opinions, pontifications, theories, actions and orientations from men who profess to be my friend and to care about me. If you cared about me, you wouldn’t treat me as less. It’s really that simple.
This current misogynist – I am staying with him and his wife (until this morning, that is) – didn’t seem to be so horrible in the past. I mean, he was horrible, and I chose not to examine it too closely. Until recently. I’ve been talking to another feminist online about some of the shit this guy has done over the years, and only when you talk about it do you realize what you’ve not allowed yourself to process in a necessary way. When you say it out loud or in text, you realize you’ve been tolerating abuse from or the existence of an abusive individual. But this ‘nice guy’ has become worse over the 8 years that I’ve known him. I think it is because of two things: 1) he has a dysfunctional relationship with a wife whom he both needs and antagonizes and who also is an antagonizer and controller herself – they are both fucked, co-dependent; and 2) he has been spending more and more time online engaging in ‘virtual BDSM’ with women who buy the male idea that female slavery is empowering. (I may have to do a post on the online BDSM community, where I have spent time trying to figure out what makes these idiots tick. It is the silliest thing. Ever.) Use of misogynistic sexual material or services has been correlated with increased violence against women by men. I’m not surprised that liberal dude’s online playtime has made him more outspoken against women.
Said misogynist is the liberal white dude that I wrote about in this post. He is behaving atrociously during his wife’s second bout of cancer just as he did during the first. I was around at the beginning of the first, and the second was announced just before I arrived this time. So, I’ve been around at the beginning of both and watched how this dude has mishandled both situations. Eight years ago, when her first and more serious episode of lady-cancer was diagnosed, dude realized he wasn’t going to be getting laid for a long time and issued an ultimatum that they adopt a polyamorous relationship or else he would leave. What choice did she have? She needed help through recovery. She had to say yes. He got what he wanted and still didn’t support her properly. But he still got to live for free in the house that SHE owned. And this time, it is a very treatable, slow-growing breast cancer. He announced to me and the liberal white lady from the post I linked to above that his wife’s cancer was going to kill HIM. I gave him shit for that, which he didn’t like.
And I’ve since opened my mouth several times to challenge the bullshit that has come out of his. And it has been endless. Him explaining away the cute pedophelia theme in a film we watched one night. Sexist comments when he is ‘forced’ to listen to a small group of women talking about health, travel and misogyny in the world. And the endless harping on the topic of black men getting killed by police. (I am soon going to post on the actual data on these killings provided by black activists and give the issue some perspective that you won’t get by the media, any male, or any government agency.) As I’ve become more observant and less tolerant of this man’s abuse, he has become more petulant, and has adopted a facial expression that speaks of serious male oppression. Pouting, sulking, and then more verbal antagonism towards me. This man in all his years, has never been challenged by a woman. His misogyny has gone unchecked. Because he pretends to be an activist for the poor, he receives serious cock suckage, despite the fact that he relies very heavily on free female labour (I worked as a full-time volunteer for his non-profit for 8 months, which he tends to forget about or downplay) and seldom follows through on his ideas unless a woman is involved.
I’ve had enough. I thought I could deal with or handle this stuff. I need to retain some connections in the meat world for some very practical reasons. I feel that I’ve invested too much energy in relationships with males, and now that my eyes are open, it is practically impossible to respect myself, be healthy, and maintain those relationships. I think to myself that I should have made more connections with females, but they are not necessarily any better. So many women are male-identified, and any relationship you have with them is inevitably tainted by the toxic males in their lives and the female friend’s requirement that you accept abuse that she herself Is willing to accept. And when push comes to shove, these women will often throw you under the bus to support the male abuser.
Where are the feminists in real life? I used to have a few. All were lesbians. But that was years ago. Perhaps, I need to go on a mission, a pilgrimage… Things to think about.
As I contemplate that, my heart is heavy and will be for a while. I still can’t quite figure out which is the worse feeling, dropping toxic males/connections from your life and being almost completely or completely alone, or subordinating yourself in order not to feel alone. Both suck. In different ways.
But at least from Liberal White Dude’s perspective, he has been liberated (a little) from the oppression of a feminist unwilling to accept his free range misogyny. Luckily, there are other women in his life to burden him and fuel his victim mentality and justify his beliefs and the ways he acts on them.
Ask a White Woman
Woman, I have so much to write, so much going on in my mind that I don’t know where to start. Mostly, it is prompted by my current trip back West from China and helped along by my rapid and deep official and deliberate immersion into radical feminist theory during this last year. The general feminist orientation I’ve held for years and years is nothing compared to what I’m going through now. I opened my can of whoop ass and things changed in a more positive, but infinitely more difficult way. And because of this deep immersion, it has really become clear to me how traumatizing living in China is, and how that trauma affects me when I come back to a very different, but equally disturbing West.
I do want to write some things about East vs West, and I also want to write about politics, but I still have much more to say about the whole race-sex interplay and the myth of the privileged white woman, so this post will be a part of the White Girl series.
I and some other bloggers, in light of the escalating white woman hate and the recent rash of sexual attacks on white women by men of colour, have been addressing the topic in a variety of ways. Today, I want to address something that really only clicked for me a few days ago as I was standing on an Amtrak platform waiting for a train. It is a matter of illogic. It is a matter of reactions and beliefs not matching reality.
We all know that white women, especially those of true feminist inclinations, have become the most hated group on the planet, responsible for all the evils and oppressions the world knows. According to the world, white women practise all the newly invented phobias and negative ‘isms’. White women don’t do enough good, but manage to perpetuate all the bad. We are the super-powers that hold the public purse and pull the strings of all the world leaders, apparently. We are turning the education system to shit, and are personally responsible for poverty and school shootings and police brutality. How this all works, I have no fucking clue, but the world says it’s true and they advocate punishment to rectify the situation.
But here’s the thing. When you look at reality and how people behave when not fired up by agenda, you will notice that all people know that white women are the most harmless, most innocuous, and possibly the most do-gooder, free-help-providing and activating people in the world. White women are safe.
Well, that sounds pretentious, doesn’t it? How the fuck would I ever come to such a conclusion?
As I was standing on that Amtrak platform, a middle-aged white woman and a foreigner, I realized that I was the beacon. I was the one targeted as the safe, universal information and protection kiosk. And it has always been that way. And they are right to come to me. I am a helper. I help people. I empathize. I know what it is like to be insecure and lost. I try to be very aware of my surroundings, and when I help the lost, I also try to reassure. I am safe. I make people feel safe. I am a white woman.
I hadn’t taken that particular train in 8 years. I don’t live in the US, as I said, I’m foreign when I’m in America. I’m not particularly knowledgeable about Amtrak or that particular route. I don’t necessarily look ‘American’, and carrying travel gear, I certainly don’t look local. But standing on that platform, it was me that everyone went to for help. In the space of 20 minutes, I helped four people with train and location and logistical information: an older white man from Australia, a middle aged man of colour, a young white woman, and a young black woman with a small child. They could have approached any of the people on the platform, but they all came to me. And when they were finished with me, they felt safe. They knew what was happening, where to go, and what to expect. And they were all thankful.
It has always been this way. I am always asked for information, directions, reassurance. I am always assumed to be the docent in a museum, the librarian in a library, the local person. I’m never in uniform. I don’t necessarily walk around with an air of confidence or knowing. I am not especially tall or striking in appearance. But I am safe to approach. People just know that I won’t beat them, rape them, murder them, steal their money, take them hostage.
So my question is: if I, the white woman, am so helpful and so safe-seeming to all regardless of others’ ethnicity, sex and age, then why the fuck am I so hated? Do we hate that which we can trust most? Is it easiest to lash out at those who help the most?
That’s how it seems. And if you want a definition of unfairness, that is it right there. You use us, and then you brutalize us. We are safe, and we take our abuse in silence like we deserve it. We are told we deserve it. We tell ourselves that we deserve it.
Yes, it is the definition of unfairness.
Conversations with Men: Liberal White Dude Explains a Main Difference Between Men and Women and How White Women Aren’t in Danger
Recently, Miep wrote a post talking about the difficult decision to remove a problematic male of long-term acquaintance from her life. I get it. I get the feelings and frustrations associated with making a decision like that. I’ve been going through some really difficult and similar situations of that nature over the past couple of years, and especially in this past year. Men are problematic, and it is really difficult to rationalize keeping them in your life as a feminist.
I’m currently visiting some uber-liberal friends, and already I’m being irked to no end by nonsensical, politically-correct, but misogynist, analyses and explanations. I discussed the MLK event dilemma in the last post. And less than a day later, I’m deep into conversations with a liberal white dude on how shit works (this ties in, don’t worry, you’ll see).
Over coffee, a liberal, white dude decided to explain to two white ladies, including a scowling me and an open-to-sexist-bullshit woman, a major difference between men and women. A difference that can be seen in young children! Apparently, boys want to know how shit works. Girls don’t. Girls expect things to work the way they want them to work without wondering or caring why they don’t. This explains why we get mad at computers when they malfunction. (Fucking what? That actually describes how males behave, in my experience.) So liberal white dude gave an example of how some three-year-old boy got super impressed with how some adult showed him how something worked and equated that knowledge with being smart. In fact, the conversation between the boy and the adult was generic and demonstrated nothing to me about the kid wanting to know how something worked. And in fact, if liberal white dude had told the same story, but substituted a girl instead of a boy, I’m sure the story would have illustrated how girls want to understand social communication or some sexist bullshit like that. It’s all in the interpretation and agenda. Always.
I continued to scowl at the stupid sexist story and completely invalid theory, and the other white woman contributed a story of her own about some ex-boyfriend travelling to some far-off land with her with a complete lack of interest until he bonded wordlessly with some foreign monk over some stupid tool. Then he was interested in culture. See? Men are interested in how shit works. It allows males to bond. How this explains all the women in science I know, and how talented women and girls are at building and using machines, I know not. But clearly this unvalidated theory achieves something for men. And I suspect it has something to do with men wanting a special domain of talent all to themselves. Unfortunately, women can do everything men can do, as well as create life. So nice try, but nicer fail, dude.
The funniest part is that liberal white dude then told an unrelated story about his wife, that was meant to be some kind of criticism of her, but was actually a really, really good example of how she was exceptionally good at trying to figure out how shit works. He didn’t see that though and neither did liberal white lady. I tried to point it out subtly “How interesting that she was so adept at quickly figuring out how that worked!” but no one picked up on the hint, sadly.
Bottom line, these bullshit unproven biological arguments, which have been used for centuries to keep women out of the sciences and maths and any domain that would gain them independence and public recognition, have no merit and make liberals look really stupid when they use them to prove something.
Next. The same liberal white dude started talking about how the poor brown and black dudes are getting all shot up by police. I pointed out that white women are increasingly being used as human shields and hostages so that these often CRIMINAL individuals can get away with the CRIMINAL acts they are committing. He tried to negate my statement, and I pointed out that I had just been reading another example of this happening. That didn’t fly. You cannot point out facts about men of colour. They are victims. White bitches are just white bitches. They have no voice, they have no valid claims to human rights. They definitely are not victimized by men, goodness no. I didn’t bother pointing out that white women are increasingly the victims of sexual violence and sexual-racial threats and attacks, and I definitely didn’t venture into the recent German rape crisis and the problem of Muslim men. Unsurprisingly, none of my liberal friends has said a single word about what’s going on over there. You. Cannot. Criticize. Men. Of. Colour. And they stick to that. Religiously.
I’m tired. So tired. How can I keep friends like this? They spout insanity. They subscribe to stereotype-based biological essentialism that looks a lot like determinism. And they are so filled with racial guilt that they are willing to overlook or explain away crime, negate real victims’ rights and exaggerate reality in order to feel better. They refuse to name men as the problem that women experience. And they refuse to see sex-based violence as a thing especially when it is commmitted by men of different SES, colour or religion, and a more common thing than say, occasional police violence towards males. Violence directed at women is a much more serious, and long-standing problem than anything else going on today.
I’m not sure how long my visit will be. I feel like I wear a mask in China where I pretend to be something I’m not. But I’ve realized the same is true in the West. And acting is exhausting. There is no place for a radical feminist to take off the costume and speak truth. Except maybe on her own blog.
Why Do I Have to Be One or the Other?
I’m on the road, Jack. For the next I’m not sure how long. At least a month and up to six weeks. Chinese university is on holiday – we are between semesters and there is Chinese New Year to celebrate or take advantage of, depending on your perspective on Chinese festivals. This year, I decided to leave the country. About half the time, I don’t. I don’t love travelling like I once did. Something about men existing and ruining a woman’s exploration into the unknown, or something. I get tired of being assaulted when I venture into the world.
But this time, I have a little personal business to take care of, and I don’t know, my energy feels a little more up than usual. So I’m travelling. I spent a few good days in Hong Kong, a night in San Francisco. And now I’m with old friends in Northern California. I’ll be around for a spell. Where to after that? Not sure.
Now here’s the thing about California. While it has its rednecks, and certainly while it has its pockets of conservative communities, it is a pretty hardcore liberal state. I know I’m not really telling you anything new. California is known for its ‘fruits and nuts’ of both the food and human variety.
Sometimes, when talking about American ideology, it is hard to separate viewpoints from official political stance. For me, it’s like trying to separate culture and religion for homogenous societies (for example, in the US or Canada, religion doesn’t define the culture in the way that it does in say, Israel or the Middle East). When you start talking about conservative and liberal, however, at least in the US, it is hard to separate the thinking from the politics. Liberal thinkers, on the whole tend to subscribe to Liberal/Democrat politics. This is a result of a two-party system. You can’t apply this in Canada, which is not a two-party system and where the Liberal party is much more conservative than the party to which most liberal thinkers subscribe. So for non-Americans, this whole conservative-liberal divide gets very confusing, especially when you are naturally categorized once you start talking about issues.
The next problem is that since there are only two real camps, you are assumed to be part of either one or the other. And frankly, neither one is attractive. Frequently, I find liberal and conservative thinkers are on the same page, even if the words sound different.
And so I find myself deep in liberal/Liberal country, and scared shitless. I am definitely not conservative, but I can’t get on board with unthinking, knee-jerk liberal reactionaries. I deliberately don’t talk politics or social issues here. It some ways, it’s worse in the US than it is in China. I’m expected to be a crazy, weirdo in China with my strange Western ways and viewpoints (I have to remind people that I am not like most Western people). But in the West, especially the US and even Canada, talking my crazy talk about feminism and religion and culture can get me hurt. So much for free speech and thinking in the West, eh? China is not a safe place to have opinions, but I’d argue that the US isn’t either.
My first night with friends, I found myself with my first conundrum/ethical issue. I’m staying with a liberal couple, and the female of the duo is a full-time activist/volunteer. And she announced that is is MLK (Martin Luther King) Day coming up. Whoops, forgot about that. Not on my radar. Apparently, there is going to be some event involving marching to some given place and then lots of food, probably some speeches. She is going and she really thinks her husband and I should go too. Now, knowing her and the type of person she is, I know this is more than a suggestion. At the risk of sounding high school, there is serious peer pressure here.
I don’t want to go.
My primary reason for this is that I’m a radical feminist. Yeah, you heard me. If you are American, you probably automatically put me in the conservative camp when I failed to support MLK Day. You’d be wrong. I’m not a white supremacist or a ‘down with black people’ kind of asshole. I’m a radical feminist, and I am done supporting Dick and his many manifestations. And MLK Day is about Dick. Black Dick, but still Dick. MLK was a misogynist who wanted to free black men. MEN. Black women were expected to support their men in this cause. And today, white women are expected to support black men, despite the fact that these men are doing better economically than even privileged white bitches (yes, there are data on this). Women of colour have always taken a back seat in this movement, which defeats the whole purpose for me. I support female causes, and I am also not taking reponsibility for white men’s racism, another thing white feminists are expected to do. I’m still waiting for a pile of black men to support a radical feminist cause (not a slut-walk where they have their cameras out to capture liberal feminist titties for future wanking purposes). Since that is never going to happen, I see no reason to support a black men’s rally. More precious gynergy wasting, imo. Female causes only.
But of course, I’m not allowed to say this to the woman who is hosting me in her home. I will have to fabricate a reason not to go as a fellow guilty white lady. In a dichotomous world, there is no third stance. There is no position where you can divert your energy and attention to women as a class without focus on race as a diversion and not be seen as a conservative racist. I hold true to the belief that racism is a direct result of misogyny and that focusing on the latter is the way to go in order to tackle both. But I can’t say that in public.
Welcome to America.
How to Respond to Male ‘Feminists’
I’m going to enter this under my ‘Conversations with Men‘ series for obvious reasons, although I’ll follow a slightly different format than I usually do for posts in that category.
If you’ve been reading along, you’ll know that not only do I assert that male feminists don’t and can’t exist, but I really dislike men who apply that label to themselves. Further, I’m not too keen on the women, including supposed feminists (ffs!), who shower praise and blow jobs on these self-professed activist woman-lovers either, but I get why they do this even if it is enormously damaging to women.
I’ve written about these creeps before:
They Don’t Do It Because They Care: Where I talk about why men join the helping professions, activism, and volunteer organizations.
Is It A Necessary Concession? Where I talk about the hidden, selfish agenda underneath the male feminist costume.
Truth Will Out: Where I talk about how you can reveal the misogynist turd that is at the heart of the majority of male feminists?
Today, I want to demonstrate how to respond to a male ‘feminist’ who tries to ‘engage’ you in dialogue. The thing with most male feminists is that they always end up in the same place using the same set of tactics. Most of them, with their keen male predatory radar, will sniff out real feminists. What are real feminists? There aren’t many around despite the label starting to become fashionable again for pole dancers and identity politickers. Real feminists are those radical women who are consistent in their belief that men as a class oppress women as a class on the very basis of sex. Real feminists name the problem: men. Real feminists understand the interplay of biology and socialization, and that men are free to be their biologically violent selves and have created a society that supports this through socialization, while women are NOT free to be their natural selves and constantly fight against gender socialization and comply against their will to attempt to avoid male violence.
So having zoned in on a real feminist, the male feminist starts a conversation. It might start out in a seemingly innocent or friendly way, but it quickly devolves into antagonism. (Or he might just dive right in.) The dude just can’t help himself. You see, men, no matter how human rightsy they say they might be, are not on board with radical feminist theory because they don’t see themselves as part of class, male. They are special, different. And they neeeeeed to make you see that you’re doing feminism wrong. Your thinking is wrong. You’re mean. You’re rigid. You’re responsible for everything bad in the world. You’re not doing enough to help women less fortunate. You… you’re something. And whatever it is, you are wrong and you should feel ashamed and guilty. Luckily, he is there to set you on the right path. And if you want to help him out somehow to show your thanks, well, you are free (free!!!) to do so.
Where most women, even real feminists, go wrong is in dealing with these douchebags. Even the most hard lined feminists have been socialized from birth as females to be constantly on the defensive. Being a woman means constantly being under attack in many ways. So women will spend enormous amounts of energy trying to explain themselves. No, I’m not a man-hater. No, I’m not humourless. No, I’m not violent. No, I’m not… oh, please just stop. I’m sorry I’m alive.
It is endless, and even staunch feminists cave under this relentless apologizing, self-defense, and explaining. We’ve seen bizarre capitulations by women once seen to hold the flag of feminism. I’m sure you can think of a few.
Online, these dickheads are even worse. They’ll flounce into a women’s space like the king of the castle and pounce on a feminist. They’ll either ask short, snarky, derailing questions, or they will lay it on thick with multi-paragraph mansplanations. What is expected is that all interested women drop everything they’re doing to address the male feminist’s concerns, defend their positions, and answer his stupid questions.
I propose something different, and I’ll illustrate with a real example put in my lap a few days ago.
~~
I left a comment on one of the blogs I follow. I can’t remember the exact topic, but it had something to do with male ‘feminists’. My comment was:
“Just as there is no such thing as a woman with a penis, there is no such thing as a male feminist.”
A concerned penis-brain responded to me, quoted the second half of my comment “there is no such thing as a male feminist”, and then said “Really?”
I did what most women automatically do, I wrote a draft explaining my position and a few other choice things. And then I stopped. This asshole spent two seconds to write one snarky word that demanded that I defend myself. And I almost fell for it. I found that as I was writing my answer, my stress level increased, and my anger flared. And then all became clear.
I decided to respond. And I responded in kind.
“Yup.”
And it felt good. It felt right. And he didn’t engage me further, which was exactly the right thing to happen. Some people might include their blog address or specific posts, and let the dude know that the argument is laid out there. I don’t bother. This kind of guy isn’t interested in feminism, and he will definitely not take the time to read your blog or post. He is looking to antagonize. He is looking for followers and praise and possibly a liberal woman who will be feisty, but who will still suck his dick because he is so fucking awesome.
In other words, not a feminist. Feminism isn’t about individualism, selfishness, or men/male ‘needs’. It is about women as a class. And if men want to be feminist allies/supporters (not feminists), they should go educate men, not spend time on feminist blogs antagonizing already overburdened, harassed women.
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Killing the Internet
I do believe I’m in the midst of a new series on fantasy, which I’ll post in the sidebar once I have a few more posts under my belt. I kicked it off with a New Year’s post on the topic.
Next, I’m going to try to tackle a topic that is near and dear to many people’s hearts: the internet.
Background
I need to include a little background lest I be accused of being a technophobe or anti-something-or-other-along-those-lines.
I fucking love the internet.
Is that a strong enough statement? I was introduced to the internet in two installments. First, in 1991, through having to access bulletin boards to provide information and programs to customers at the little computer consultancy for which I worked before I went to university. And then full on in 1992 when I started uni and could walk into a computer lab and come face-to-face with a Windows-based browser. In 1991, I didn’t quite grasp the implication of what I was accessing, but the following year, it was pretty clear. And my world changed forever.
It’s perhaps for a different post on a different blog all the myriad ways my life changed, often for the better. Suffice it to say that the internet’s capabilities spoke to me, my interests and skill set on a number of levels. I’ve had opportunities because of the internet, I have certain RL friends because of the internet, and much of the informal learning and formal education I’ve been driven to pursue has been facilitated by the internet.
It’s Just a Fantasy, Honey
So, let me pose a question.
If you could opt to turn off the internet for good, for all people in the world, would you do it?
Hmm, just writing that question down (typing it, whatever) sends many different thoughts and feelings through me. Many people among males and the younger generation might consider this a no-brainer of a question and answer immediately with a ‘hell no!’ But it is a question that gives me very serious pause, even saying this as a heavy and long-term internet user. Let’s explore.
If you’re over 40’ish, grew up in an impoverished nation, or grew up in a cave in the West, you can remember what life was like before the internet (and cell phones, for that matter) became mainstream / accessible to the hoi polloi. Life was fine. It worked. Nothing was missing. People didn’t bump into things, lost, wondering how to function. People had friends and networks and ways of learning and disseminating information. In some ways, I miss those days. My world was more local. My friends were people I saw regularly, in person. We made appointments and kept them. Emergencies were emergencies. Work (except for traditional ‘women’s work’ which is 24/7/365) mostly happened during business hours.
With the internet came a freedom of information (of sorts) and a greater speed of access to information that made a large world smaller, increased social and knowledge networks, and provided a whole host of personal and commercial economic opportunities. Some of this was good.
But there was a whole sinking boatload of bad that came with it thanks to men. Earlier, I wrote a post comparing a few of the bads and the goods and how women are affected by the internet. As someone who has spent a lot of time on the net, socially, intellectually, and doing research, I’ve noticed a downward, depressing and alarming trend in net citizen behaviour. Despite all the potential for good, and the current projects that allow positive phenomena to happen, the internet, like all tools controlled by and designed for men, has become increasingly a place of male abuse and violence against (primarily) women and girls.
The internet has become – as all male-focused tools inevitably become – fouled, debased, filthy, destructive, violence-fuelled and -fuelling.
It is estimated that up to 40% of the internet and internet traffic is porn-driven now. Major porn sites generate more traffic than the major social networking and online video sites put together. Most American men (equal numbers religious, Christians are just as disgusting as any other dudes) watch porn. And this site can give you a tiny taste of the kinds of search terms men use to find shit on the net. And the content is getting more and more violent and bizarre.
All in the name of fantasy and free speech. Male fantasy and free speech.
And all the male fantasy and free speech spills over into both internet interactions and real life in the form of violence.
Outside porn sites, men now set up websites or over-populate social networking sites to go on woman-hate vendettas. Women are driven off of sites when they dare to speak. Women are targeted online for vile abuse and threats and shaming for doing nothing other than daring to exist. Men with nothing to lose and no sense of shame, humanity, empathy or accountability pile on lone women online using the most disgusting and hateful language imaginable. Women’s own sites are targeted for trolling and censorship.
But the hate doesn’t stop at the keyboard. The effects of online porn and then the inflamed online woman-hate (whether deliberately organized or organic) moves to RL into the very interactions women have with partners, sons, male acquaintances, classmates, bosses, and random male strangers.
Not fantasy. This is real stuff. Real for women. It’s not getting better.
So I come back to my question. If given the choice, would you turn off the internet for good?
I think about everything I would lose if I turned off the internet. I think about all the ways my life would have to change. And I think about everything I and the world would gain by the act.
Losses: I would lose access to readings from around the world by women. But then I could start a local women’s writing, reading, discussion group. I would lose connections with feminists online, but really, what good are these online connections if I need RL help or I lose power or something happens to them and I have no idea how to find out what’s going on? Honestly, as much as I do get something important out of the few interactions I currently have with online feminists, I’d rather have a small group of them in RL. I would lose my ability to speak my mind in anonymity. Perhaps this is the biggest potential loss. I’ve never been able to speak in RL. First, I come from an abusive home – I was not allowed to dissent or have feelings. Also, I’m a writer, not a speaker. And finally, I am a woman – women are not allowed to speak in this world without consequences. It is dangerous. I think these are the three biggest things I would lose and feel the loss of. The knowledge and the relationships and the speaking platform. The first two, I could deal with – I think relying upon online versions takes away from forging something in RL. The third would be difficult.
Making changes: Since I can remember life before the internet, and that life was just fine, or at least not worse than it is now, I think it is doable. It actually is attractive. Imagine having to cultivate local relationships and networks again. Imagine having hobbies that would take me outdoors. Imagine finding something creative to do instead of falling back on doing something useless, but amusing (maybe) online. I used to do this before the internet. I mean, I’m normally a fairly quiet and solitary person, but I had more dealings with the meat world than I do now. And especially being in China, I spend much, much less time outdoors than I do in the West. Having the internet supports this asocial ‘agoraphobia’. I don’t go out for walks here. My outdoor forays are solely purpose-driven: work, buying food and meeting a friend. No internet? Things would have to change radically. I wouldn’t be in China, likely.
Gains: No internet, I firmly believe, translates into less violence. Men are violent. We can’t get away from that unless we get rid of them all. Seriously. But the internet fuels their violence and gives them an outlet for their hate. And it is an outlet that allows men who would normally not have a place to talk about their hate to feel supported and egged on. All the men who previously kept the violence at bay are now given permission by nameless, faceless others to act out their ‘fantasies’. No internet means less violence against women and girls. Less normalization of violence. Less hate propaganda. The internet is not about free speech. It is about letting men say whatever they want, including hate speech, and about censoring women for speaking truth. Women are only tolerated if they parrot hate speech against themselves and fellow women.
Conclusion
As much as I love the internet, I would turn it off permanently if I had that power. To put a stop to the major outlet of male violence and male violent ‘fantasy’ outweighs any gains I or we might currently enjoy. I could envision a re-do of advanced communication systems in my fantasy world with no men. I do think an internet-like contraption is a very good idea – just not in the hands of men.
2016: Year of the Fantasy
I’ll start with a note on fantasy since I don’t think a lot of people really understand what it means and it is used incorrectly by men (of course) to justify any number of things they do or say or endorse. Men control language, you see, so they can define something one way, and then when it’s to their advantage, they can spin the table.
Fantasy, essentially, is
the act of imagining something impossible or very, very, very unlikely.
All of the video, pictorial, and written porn that exists supposedly falls into that category, and if men decide not to abuse the term ‘free speech’, they’ll fall back on “it’s just fantasy”.
Except that it’s not. The things that happen in porn happen to women, to quote Andrea Dworkin. So porn doesn’t fit the definition of fantasy because it is based on and perpetuates reality. It is violence. It is crime. It is rape. It is reality.
But I don’t want to be sidetracked here. This isn’t a post about men’s vacant inner lives and the need to fill their void with the worst kinds of hate and destruction.
No, this is a post about real fantasy. A woman’s fantasy. My fantasy. It is fantasy because it is impossible (or very, very, very unlikely). The purpose of a fantasy is to escape from the oppression of reality. And who needs to escape more than anyone? Women.
Perhaps 2015 would be better known as the Year of Anger because that’s what it seemed like to me. I’d like to think that this recent period leading up to and including the turn of the year, which has been filled with delightful thoughts of a world that is not possible, will continue through the remainder of the year. We’ll see. I hope so. I tend to be a realist and that is not necessarily a fun place to be – ask any woman who rejects feminism. She can’t handle it because it is a framework based on reality and reality is fucking depressing. And who wants that? Jeez.
I am fantasizing about a world with no men. I don’t care how they disappear. That has not yet entered into the equation. All I have at this point is an established world that doesn’t know men and certainly doesn’t fantasize about having them there! In many ways, it is unimaginable – as I said, it is pure fantasy. We have nothing to base the fantasy on except the negation of the current wrongs, or the opposite of what currently exists. It’s simplistic, but a starting place for a person or people who have known nothing other than slavery and whose history has been effectively erased to support the maintenance of that slavery.
So indulge me in a cursory look at the start of my fantasy, in the form of a list, which is no more than a woman’s surface look at what taking away the testosterone element might effect. At this point, I’m working from the negation/elimination of the current evils men have perpetrated and that have led to widespread destruction. I firmly believe women would not have gone down that same path as we don’t destroy ourselves of our own free will. Once you start thinking about everything you could do if you didn’t have to worry about the threat of men in all areas of life, you find yourself with endless possibilities. I truly think that without men, society would have achieved infinitely more in a much shorter amount of time. Woman-hate is a time and resource waster, a distraction.
Without men, we would have under the following topics:
Sexual Safety
- No rape
- No fear at night
- No sexual harassment or intimidation
- No sexual assault
- Little to no violent crime
- No gangs
- No dominance/submission structures
- No BDSM or sexual power play
- No prostitution
- No stripping/pole dancing/demeaning ‘sex work’ of any kind
- No sex/human trafficking
- No missing girls or women
- No slavery
- No pornography
- No surveillance
- No need for a police force (mediators, perhaps)
- No misogyny
Global/Community Safety
- No property ownership
- No vandalism
- No weapons (other than practical ones for hunting)
- So, no guns, no bombs, no biological weapons, no nuclear weapons
- No territorial disputes
- No need for armies
- No terrorism
- No spies
- No diplomats
- No peacekeepers
- No war
- No refugees
- No racism
Economics
- No money-based system
- No drive for material wealth/possessions
- No bullshit ‘women love shopping’ myth/propaganda
- No corruption
- No privileged class
- No underbelly social class
- No ridiculous demeaning jobs
- No strikes
- No sweatshops
- No greed
- No poverty
- No classism
Ideology
- No religion
- No ignorance
- No blind faith
- No dogma
- No irrational punishments and requirements
- No negation of truth or knowledge
- No needless shame
- No ideological persecution
- Commitment to truth rather than preservation of lies
Social Structure and Breeding
- No family
- No marriage
- No domestic slavery
- No pair bonding
- No forced breeding
- Little need for abortion (medical only)
- No pregnancy worship or denegration
- No myth surrounding biological clocks ticking
- Possible alternatives to natural pregnancy
- Low birth rate / population
- No unwanted children
- No male children
- No orphanages
- No street kids
Health
- No monetization of healthcare
- Universal healthcare
- No denial of services
- Longer life spans without the obsession with longevity
- No sexually transmitted diseases, including HIV
- Little mental illness
- No mental illness stigmatization
- No anorexia / morbid obesity
- Little needless surgery
- Easy, non-stigmatized, humane access to assisted suicide
- Integrated, healthy relationships between patients and all practitioners of the health arts
- Health research not tied to agendas, cover-ups, fuelled instead by a willingness to explore all avenues
- No animal research
The Body
- No ridiculous focus on youth or beauty
- No gender
- No trans nonsense
- No body hate or image problems
- No cutting or self-mutilation
- Comfortable, woman-centric clothing
- No make-up or other hate-driven, toxic/harmful masking behaviours
- No body-destroying fashion
- No illogical body rituals (shaving, bleaching, whitening, etc)
- No surgery designed to ‘augment’ the body
Environment
- No global warming
- No needless waste
- No needless killing of animals
- No water, air, soil pollution
- No massive cities
- Only clean energy
- No property/money/patent-oriented messing with food
- No monocrops
- No large-scale agriculture
- Community gardens
- No animal farms
- Focus on biodegradable products
- Composting, vermiculture
- No chemical pesticides
- Environment-focused, local growing
- No introduced species (animals, plants, fungi, bacteria)
Education
- Complementary technology for life assistance and co-existence rather than life destruction
- No education-as-childcare mentality
- Multiple styles of education available regardless of age
- No rigid age-to-grade classes
- Regular person-focused educational needs assessments
- Universal education to all who want it
- No priority subject areas
- Premium information search tools and information repositories, untainted by pornography and violence
There is so much more. This is just off the top of my head. And I’ll fully admit that it is only a starting point. As I stated earlier, when living in a slave system, it is hard to imagine a world of possibilities and so you must begin imagining the opposite of what you have.
Lunch with Ladies of the Law and New Year’s Shenanigans
It’s officially New Year’s Eve in China – about 8:30 pm. I’ve settled in with a bottle of overpriced red wine from Australia, and I won’t make it to midnight. I’m in a musing frame of mind.
I’m not a traditional person. I don’t have many rituals that I manage to keep for years. I have rituals that serve a purpose, and then when no longer needed, they go away. That’s their function, in my opinion. So the turning of the year isn’t that special to me. I don’t take stock or make resolutions. And if I wanted to, I don’t think I could anyways. I’m comfortably uncomfortable in my unstable life, and the comfortable part of that discomfort means that I haven’t been all that motivated to make big changes in my life. Under all that, I really just don’t know what I want anymore. The few things I know I do want/need are not achievable anyhow.
So what do you do when you’re low-key, unmotivated, feeling a bit lazy, and kinda strangely okay with all that? Well, you organize a huge group of young ladies with whom to go out for lunch and act crazy.
I mentioned in earlier posts that a) most of my students are male, b) I do occasionally go out with the most motivated and least offensive of those, c) I try to nurture female students if they want help, and d) a couple of young, first-year, undergrad law students crashed one of my Masters English classes this year. I’m happy to say, there are a lot of women in the law program, and it is with a group of 8 of them that I went out with today. No testosterone!
It happens so seldom these days. There used to be so many more opportunities to go out with groups of women when I lived in the West. When I was part of the working world then, I would always organize ladies lunches – and called them that too because it we all thought it was funny. And I miss those days so much. Gynergy. I’d like to say, if you could bottle the stuff… but it is definitely something that shouldn’t be sold and to even utter those words is to soil it with typical male non-thinking and greed and devaluation. Gynergy is priceless and should be free to all WOMEN. Not men, women. They get the stuff for free now, and women have to pay to keep the tiniest bit of their own.
So anyhow, to once again get a bunch of nutty girls together, even if they are all less than half my age, was a good thing. Yep, there are generational and culture differences. As soon as we sat down in the restaurant, half of them whipped out their cell phones to log into the free wifi. That is ubiquitous here and among the young world-wide. But there was plenty of talk about life, school, reading, plans, the upcoming Chinese New Year holiday. And then, it was photo time.
When young people tell me they have a hundred thousand photos on some social networking account, I used to disbelieve them. I remember the very first camera I got when I was 12. It was precious, and you had to really consider when you decided to take a photo. You only had one chance and then later you paid to have the roll of film developed. It was a crap shoot, and an expensive one. Cell phones have changed the world in so many ways (most of them not good ways). Photo-taking is constant and definitely not as valued as it once was. If I go out with a group of students, hundreds of photos are taken. When you add a foreigner to the mix, multiply the number of photos by a gazillion. Today, I was the only one without my camera out. That is not always the case, but I can usually have a few of the cooler shots sent to me. Today, things got pretty crazy, and with 8 people taking shots, I can’t even imagine how many photos there are. I wish I could include at least a group shot and a couple of the more charming concoctions, but you know, men ruin absolutely everything about a woman’s online existence, so I’ll remain faceless and anonymous. *Sigh*
Today was so great for everyone, that I’ve invited the crowd over to my place on Sunday for a dumpling-making party.
Dumplings are an important staple snack in China, and a very common thing to get together and do with family and friends. They are easy to make, and a hell of a lot of fun to prepare (especially if you are just learning how to make them). You can buy the little circles of dough (translated from Chinese as ‘dumpling skins’) fresh from the local farmers’ market if you don’t want to make your own. And you can make whatever filling you want. I’m meeting the students beforehand to go to market. This is part of the fun, for me, at least.
I also have a few games planned (which they might not have experienced in China) for after everyone has eaten too much.
I can’t imagine a better way to kick off the new year: cooking, eating, playing fun games, and sharing gynergy – oh, and of course, there will be a butt load of photo taking.
Fine, Let’s Just Have Two Male Bathrooms
Living in China and Taiwan has frequently made me feel I’m living out surreal Kafka-like scenarios. Strange racist demands or limitations or really unfair policies directed only at foreigners are delivered with a straight face to the foreign victim, and there is always the implication that you are psychotic for not going along quietly and seeing how rational the treatment is.
I’ve been told I can’t have a university faculty email address because I might be a spy for my government. I’ve turned down jobs where I was told I would have a significant portion of my earnings withheld until I could prove I was honest. Guilty until proven innocent are foreigners. And I’ve been chained into my residential building at night because it was ‘safer’ that way – in some places, I was not allowed by the police to live outside the school, so there really was no avoiding a prison atmosphere.
And because many people’s knee-jerk reactions will be: you’re Western, you can’t complain, and this doesn’t sound so bad – let’s paint this in another way. Imagine in your country, disallowing Chinese university instructors staff email addresses, withholding only the Chinese instructors’ paycheques, or chaining Chinese instructors into their staff housing at night if they are forced to live on campus. Yeah, that makes it sound a little crazier, yes? Well, it is normal to do this to foreigners here.
This is Chinese thinking and they explain and do these things as if they believe they are correct and good for Chinese for foreigners. To the recipient of these edicts, your mind starts spinning. In what world is this rational? In what world are these not human rights abuses? One has no way of fighting this. I’ve spoken about China being another planet before. China is a fucked up place, but it is fucked up in a different way than Western or other countries are. For example, they are not dealing with the West’s equally Kafkaesque trannie issues.
In the trans wars, the victims expected to accept human rights abuses are women, not foreigners. I’ve read countless examples of what appear to be very male-entitled, mentally ill MtT people (men) demanding the conversion of a safe’ish female-only space (bathrooms and change rooms) into man-friendly zones.
I don’t believe on principle that non-gender-conforming men should be messed with by other men because of their non-conformity – it is stupid and unfair and typical male bullshit. BUT it is a men’s issue, and I won’t waste my precious energy policing man-on-man violence. If they want to kill each other, have at it. If they all disappeared, women would finally be safe. How would this be a bad thing???
These non-conforming men lose the tiny bit of sympathy I can muster for them when they try to solve their problems at the expense of women. And of course, that is what they automatically do. That is what men do. “Poor me. Men hate me. I, I, I know! I will make myself feel better by shitting on women! Yeah! We’ve been doing it forever, and they are not allowed to fight back! Problem solved.” Instead of creating trannie spaces, which is the logical and fair thing to do, they just take the little that women have. It is so much easier to conquer an already conquered class than to start from scratch and forge your own resources and spaces and identities.
And so the invasion of women’s very private and safe’ish spaces – the very places we piss, shit, deal with our menstrual blood, cry, hide, escape from men, have a private moment, change our clothes, and sometimes exchange woman-oriented information and bonds – is well under-way. Men under the delusion (and sometimes not so deluded delusion…) that they are women because they like Hello Kitty and sparkly nail polish are convincing the legal system in general, and institutions/organizations one-by-one that they need to invade have access to women’s bodies, privacy, feeling of security, spaces.
And what can women do when they try to argue against the invasion of men into their very private spaces? Nothing. It is a Kafka-like scenario – it is so messed up, it is hard to even get a handle on rational thought. Women are suddenly the oppressors. Trans are being victimized. No word is made of how they are treated in the male bathroom/change room and that the violence being done to them (if any) is by men. It is women preventing the individual from feeling safe. It is women preventing the trans from having a place to do his business. It is not logical, rational, sense-making. And given that she is now painted as an oppressor, the woman has two ‘choices’: accept having to do her business in a male space, or not entering the space at all (having nowhere to go at all). There is no longer a woman’s bathroom/change room, but two men’s rooms.
And the best part? If a trans commits any kind of hate crime against the women whose space he has now legally taken over and in these very spaces, it is seen as woman-on-woman crime. Mark my words, we are going to see a ‘strange’ and ‘inexplicable’ jump in sex crimes with female perps, and men will sit back and smugly say: “See? Women are violent too.”
Opening Your Can of Whoop Ass
There are a lot of containers that, once opened or broken or dumped out, cannot be resealed or refilled with their original contents. Think of a tooth paste tube, a piñata, or an aerosol can. Release the contents and there is no going back. Sometimes, the containers are fragile – batter or abuse them too much, and they lose their integrity and ability to hold anything anymore. With other containers, the contents may be such that there is no possible way of getting it back into the container once released – it’s all over the place.
The worst containers of stuff are those figurative cans of whoop ass. Not only can you not re-contain said whoop ass, but it is toxic, toxic stuff. The worst can of whoop ass out there is one that sits on every woman’s shelf in the pantry and is that which we call society or culture (aka Patriarchy). Patriarchy is a nasty little container full of toxic shit, and everyone is really, really careful to guard the can and prevent it from coming to harm.
Because once a woman damages or opens that can, something monumental happens.
She sees the actual contents of the can. She realizes that the list of ingredients has nothing to do with what is inside, and what is inside is poison. Whoop ass is dangerous shit, and once a woman opens that can and whoop ass leaks out, she can’t put it back in. She can’t return to that state of ‘can-protection’ that previously ruled her life.
Many believe that knowing the contents of the can is worse than relentlessly protecting the can. And it can seem that way. Once the contents spill, you see it and understand it for what it is, and you realize that there is no way to clean it up. You can try to get away from it, and succeed in some small ways, but you can’t un-see the whoop ass and return to your tiny, limited world of can protection.
Many women, however, admit that they always hated that damned can looming on the pantry shelf. They’d always asked themselves why the can was so special anyways. It was processed, unappetizing. They’d always cooked fresh food, and doesn’t the can have an expiry date anyways…? But men always insisted on the can being there, and many women, their families, their friends, most of them had their own cans and didn’t approve of can-criticism. And it remained a centrepiece. Those who questioned can-care did the minimum, kicked it around a bit, and some finally opened it as a brave, defiant, and curious act.
I opened the can, myself, once I found the right tool. And although I don’t personally celebrate Christmas, it is my holiday wish that in every stocking of every celebrant in the world might be found the tool needed to open their can.
Seasons greetings to can-protectors and can-openers alike.
Sermon Sunday or Rapist Day or The Screwdriver
This post is part of the ongoing Birth of a Feminist series. Listen along to my recording on YouTube and/or read the article below ♥♀
I was 16 when I began carrying a weapon with me to go out.
Does that sound young to you? To me, it sounds old. Thinking about it now, I would have done well to arm myself when I was five and boys started beating me up because I was a girl. I’m sure they just liked me, though. That’s what we’re told, anyhow. Love = hate when it comes to boys and men – from birth.
But it turned out that 16 was the age at which I decided that carrying a weapon might be to my advantage. There had been many violent incidents in my life, but for the most part, those were committed by boys and men I knew or at least knew in passing. But at 16, I had a frightening encounter with a strange man, a stranger, and it scared me shitless.
~~
Religious men and their cockpuppets are dangerous. Every policy, rule and regulation they have ever set up has been designed to hurt women and girls on some level. I’ve lost friends over my belief in this truth, even agnostic friends. It hurts their feelings, you see. To them, freedom of religion is more important than female freedom and the right to be safe. But not to me. Religion is a choice, being female is not. And the data show that opening the door a crack when it comes to men, religious or not, gives them permission to kick it open and rape you on your kitchen floor. So yeah, I take a hard line when it comes to men and the shit they invent – and religion is one helluva big male fantasy that I refuse to accept.
Now, I grew up in a town that didn’t give off the stink of religion, but we still adhered to a strict policy of no Sunday shopping – Sunday being the Christian fuckers’ day of rest and all. As a result, on Sundays, the downtown core was a ghost town. Nothing happening. Very anti-social, anti-community. That’s religion for you. I am in no way a capitalist, but commerce does bring people together and at least gives the illusion of safety in numbers.
But the downtown library was open in the afternoons. And being both an atheist (as far as a child can be a member of this type of ‘group’) and a very good student, I did frequent the library when project research needed to be done.
What I managed to do, however – and I’ll chalk it up to being eager – is fuck up the library hours. I thought it opened earlier than it actually did. I had caught a ride downtown with my father, who was headed off somewhere to avoid being with my mother. And I quickly discovered after he sped off that I was early by an hour. So I wandered around in what on all other late mornings was a bustling commercial area. On Sunday, it was a creepy, post-apocalyptic scene from a movie where you are waiting for the zombies to start crawling out of the cracks. After some unpleasant time killing, I realized the library was opening finally, and made my way back to it.
It didn’t take long to find the perv.
Now, this was a small city, not hicksville. But said perv was sitting there in his dirty pick-up truck beside the train tracks that ran by the parking lot that I needed to cross to return to the library. A middle-aged white guy. What the hell was he doing there? No coffee shops. No stores open. Nothing interesting to look at. Unless, it was a good spot to pick up young girls to abduct and rape. And given that that was exactly the scenario that I found myself in, I guess it was indeed a good spot.
He tried to verbally coerce me into his truck and made a move to open the door to convince me in a different way. I wasn’t having any of it. I ignored him and ran like hell towards the library. It could have gone horribly wrong. If I had encountered him an hour earlier when there were no friendly havens into which I could escape, would my fate have been different?
I was shaken, and after that point, for a spell, I started carrying a screwdriver with me. It did occur to me, even at 16 and even without anyone telling me that as a female, I had no rights, that I could get in trouble for carrying or using on an aggressor a knife or something that was distinctly a weapon. Prey usually know they are prey, even if they don’t come right out and acknowledge it. The worst part about the human prey known as girls and women is that we are NOT allowed to defend ourselves against male-predator aggression. All prey animals on earth, with the exception of human women and girls, are allowed to defend themselves when they are attacked, and are allowed and expected to kill their attackers. It is a given. No one faults a mouse for biting when a cat attacks it. No one faults a bee for killing ants attacking her hive or even for killing all the male bees once they’ve outlived their usefulness. Why do girls and women go to jail when we defend ourselves or do things to safeguard our bodily integrity, such as carrying weapons, or ensuring woman-only spaces are free of penises? With humans, predators ensure they are unopposed. Men ensure they are unopposed.
So, I carried that screwdriver with me knowing full well that I was doing so at my own risk. I was breaking the first rule of human predator-prey relations. In my 20s, I upgraded to a Swiss Army knife. Looking back, I can’t believe how much time I spent mulling over the pros and cons of carrying a screwdriver and how much time I spent trying to figure out what I could carry without it appearing like I was armed. It’s not like I walked around with a tool box. And now, after so much international experience, including living in the US where the range and accessibility of weapons is startling, I now see that in Canada, our government does a lot to make sure that girls and women are not allowed to defend themselves. It blows my mind now that I had to spend time worrying about all the possible scenarios that can only exist when a girl lives in a male-dominated world, and that there is no good situation. Like with all aspects of female lives, there is only the illusion of choice: living in fear, armed or unarmed; unarmed and assaulted and/or dead; armed and assaulted and/or dead; armed and in legal trouble for defending oneself and harming an assaulter. Tell me, where is the good scenario here?
Anyhow, luckily, in my hometown, the religious nuts lost out to the capitalist pigs and Sunday shopping was legalized and brought life and the illusion of safety to the city centre. But really, who are we kidding? We all know that the religious and capitalists are pretty much one and the same. Always have been. And once they started raking in the extra dough from Sunday business, no one made a peep of complaint ever again. The most important thing was that eliminating Sunday shopping bans eliminated an unsafe situation for women and girls – at least during the hours the library was open.
Of course, religion allows pervs numerous other opportunities to abuse women and girls. But at least I could go to the library on Sunday without fear of abduction and rape in empty parking lots.
But we still had all the pervs IN the library. And that is another story for another time…
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New Series: The Birth of a Feminist
I’m beginning a new series in my sidebar. It will be the Birth of a Feminist series, a record of what went into my formation, or I suppose I should say rebirth (given my understanding of feminism) as a radical feminist.
I was raised academically as a quantitative analyst. A boys’ club to be sure. Statistics are important in describing problems and in predicting outcomes, and being able to quantify things is useful to some extent for a variety of reasons. I was further raised in this tradition to pooh-pooh everything that seemed subjective or qualitative – we were ‘hard’ scientists in the ‘soft’ science of psychology – there was a lot of posturing needed, of course, to make sure *our* dicks stayed hard. This is how men roll. The unspoken rule was that that qualitative shit was the domain of women. Women and their experiences. Women and their stories. Women and their emotional ties to information. And I believed it for some time. I didn’t take my fellow graduate students in community and social psychology so seriously. After all, I was mapping the brain and quantifying male-defined forms of intelligence. I had access to numbers. I was using math. So there. We win.
And then years later, I went back to graduate school expecting to do more work in numbers and business and technology, and I found myself exposed to different forms of knowledge creating, dissemination and preservation. I learned about the art and value of story-telling. I learned about the complexities of non-quantifiable knowledge exchange. It was fascinating. I followed that academic degree with a year of research with a group of doctors and, more interestingly and importantly, qualitative analysts. Our work was in mixed-methods (quant and qual working together). I realized that numbers only take you so far. You need stories and personal accounts and understanding and sometimes including biases to truly explain reality. You need both. I felt I improved as a researcher. I was humbled. Humility is essential in a researcher. So I see value in stories. They have an important place in our record. Our early ancestors communicated this way, and somehow we moved away from it as men have come to dominate.
So anyhow, onto Genesis: my series on the (re)birth of a feminist.
Genesis:
the origin or mode of formation of something
Feminists, or women-centred women:
- are born;
- swiftly and relentlessly undone and subordinated; and then
- remade through
- experience resulting from
- systematic, impersonal misogyny through rape culture, and
- unique, chance encounters with particular individuals, times, places, and situations;
- and glimmers of remembrance of the collective memories of feminists-past lying in their subconscious.
- experience resulting from
Or something along those lines.
If I think about how I became a feminist, that is how I would describe it. I think all girls are born to be free. The majority (excluding those with the propensity for the nastier of the personality disorders) are born with the capacity to be free, intelligent, creative, empathic, mindful, and cooperative.
I think girls are born into the flavour of subordination dictated by their culture/patriarchy whereupon all members are subject to that culture’s indoctrination. But girls are also individually stripped of their birthright to feminism upon entry into the world when all the ‘cutesy’, protective, paternalistic, and dismissive, underestimating treatment particular to their family/group starts.
All girls test out rebellion – a natural response to the language-free remembrance of their real woman-defined purpose as women through what Jung* termed the ‘collective unconscious’ – in small ways. They defy gender-defined behaviour. They break rules designed for them as girls. And they are smacked down in a variety of ways – verbal, emotional, psychological, physical and sexual punishment. For almost all girls, this works effectively to keep them in their chains and then to do the work themselves to keep the chains in place unquestioned.
* [Note: I have little use for the misogynist, Jung.]
For others, for one reason or another, the punishment doesn’t take. The call of the wild, the natural, their real purpose is too strong. And they take a better, but harder, path. The one to feminism. Woman’s natural and rightful state.
This collection of stories was/is my path to feminism. Many of the punishments worked on me, but my feminism was always so close to the surface of consciousness, that in the end, I got back to where I belong.
Genesis I: The Girl and The Stranger in The Car
‘Out There’ Women
We live in a world where men are allowed to follow their thoughts to the very end and announce them in bold caps, surround sound and techni-colour.
How?
Men are the censors, the thought police, the free-speakers, the fuckers, the threat-issuers, the policy-, law-, and rape-makers, the law-breakers, the judges, juries and executioners, the johns. The Free.
This is how they turn their fantasies into reality. This is how they turn their crimes into rights. This is how they turn their mediocrities into merits. This is how they turn their hate into freedom.
Women are not allowed to speak freely. We must support Dick or shut up. If we don’t shut up, we will be shut up. Women may not state the facts. Women may not question the status quo. Women may not ask ‘why?’ Women may not fantasize in response to what men put out there in the name of ‘free speech’, in the name of our annihilation, in the name of their orgasms. Women may not defend themselves.
It is a rare woman who dares to follow her thoughts to the end, and she pays dearly. A few applaud her bravery within earshot, eyes gleaming and then darting, careful. A few more silently support, nodding in privacy and anonymity. And the majority wish her harmed, silenced, erased, dead. Sometimes, they get their wish.
I wish to see, hear, read more women who are ‘out there’. Daring to follow their thoughts to the end. Speaking the unspeakable – women’s words. Daring to be seen, heard, read… potentially silenced. But ultimately, daring to be believed and joined.
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Lordy, I have FINALLY found myself on YouTube and made a recording of this post. Only 7.5 years later 😉
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My Planet Is Simpler, but Not Better
I first moved to another planet in 2003. It was called Taiwan. And then several years after leaving, I returned to that part of the solar system and moved to a planet called China.
I guess I should explain, since I’m coming off as a space cadet of sorts. There are places you go that feel so completely different and seem to operate so differently that it’s as if they are a separate world from your own. There are a number of things that factor into other-worldliness. Operating language, political and economic system, values, social structure, racial composition, general standard of living, environmental conditions, educational system, taboos – really, it’s hard to list everything that goes into how out of your element you might feel. I think it’s different for everyone – both the factors and the level of differentness you experience.
I don’t really want to get into the particulars of China or Chinese culture except where they involve feminism and atheism – the purpose of this blog. I have a completely separate blog on China that I have maintained for several years.
I will say that while Chinese culture is very complex and convoluted in some ways, there is something missing that the West hasn’t managed to export (yet) and that makes it very simple in some important ways.
Sexual and identity politics.
When I read what Western feminists are talking about – things that are going on in their home countries, particularly around trannies and issues surrounding the silencing of feminists – it is a little hard for me to believe. It has been a while since I lived in – or I should say was immersed in – Western culture. Even in the last 10 years when I have lived in the West, I’ve not lived in cities or around young people or within academic circles. So it astounds me the level of craziness that is going on with this need to ‘identify as’ something. To be honest, it sounds very ‘high school’ to me. It smacks of this needy, dysfunctional immaturity that one typically sees with teenagers as they strive so hard to be different, unique and rebellious, and that ends up making them all kind of the same. Pathetic, sometimes laughable, but mostly harmless. Most of us go through it – when we are kids – it’s a phase. But unlike with teenagers and their identity quests, what is going on is having serious legal and social consequences. For women, feminists in particular. Nothing laughable about that.
We just don’t have this in China. We are still barely dealing with the idea of homosexuality here. And for me, since I’ve become used to the insanity that for a long time marked China as a different planet, the sexual/identity repression has become a major factor in my seeing/feeling China as another world.
It is very hard for me to describe China to people who have never been here in a way that they can understand. For example, the best, but still mostly inadequate, way for me to describe it is that it is a mix of the 1950’s and almost-now. The almost-now part refers to technology. For example, their high speed rail system is top notch and puts public transportation in North America to shame. And they skipped email and went straight to smart phones and texting as the primary mode of communication. But sexually and socially, China is living in the past. A traditional culture coupled with a dictatorial government is responsible, I believe. Gender roles are strict and people generally comply. Even the rebellious weirdo type isn’t commonly seen – and I live in a major city where you are more likely to see this stuff.
To this day, I’ve only met one person who has told me they are gay, even though my gaydar has gone off for both males and females tons of times over the years. These folks will go on to marry and breed and perhaps never wonder why there is little joy in their arrangement, unfortunately. I’ve met many people who adamantly profess that they are not gay, however. The gay-jokey accusations are constant among students. All in all, being gay really isn’t on the table as an option and there is nothing resembling a social movement here.
But on a smaller scale, I’ve noticed that students are paying more lip-service to both valuing female babies as well as acknowledging that gay people both exist and should be treated better, however. One of my Masters students asked if he could choose the topic of gay rights for his speech in my class – not that HE was gay – because he was feeling some shame and sympathy that gays and lesbians were treated so badly in China. He also told me that he wouldn’t dare talk about this anywhere other than in our English class – it wouldn’t be accepted. I’ve also noticed a few student groups tackle a gay topic when our department has held film-making contests.
All in all, this is where things are in China’s sexual landscape with regard to identity. It feels not sufficiently open but safe from identity pirates at the same time. It is a naive society, although becoming less naive due to the intrusion of Western sitcoms coming through via the internet. I’m not aware of any Western television programs that both encapsulate the transgender or queer identity madness and have made their way into Chinese consciousness. I’m trying to imagine attempting to explain it to my students. Someone would inevitably ask me what it all means. I do get students ask me why, for example, Americans are obsessed with sex. That is what they see in television and films. Sex, sex, and more sex. And I try to give an explanation.
I don’t really feel I’ve done this topic justice, but I’ll conclude. While I feel like I’m living on a completely different planet, I will say that similar to the planets I’m familiar with, all are run on patriarchy and misogyny. China is simpler, but not better, and at its core, perhaps not all that different.
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Addendum: I just read the following post by Phonaesthetica on the show ‘Transparent’, and the second-to-last episode of season 2 which paints lesbians in a bad light because they don’t accept MtTs in their space. The description of the episode sounds like the usual activist drivel – the man-in-dress character is painted as a Nazi-victim. I’m glad this nonsense hasn’t hit China. I’m having this weird sense of dread that like with their technology experience (skipping email and going directly to text messaging), they are going to skip the gay rights movement and move directly into pushing every gender-confused person into forced sex changes. Sounds crazy, but yanno, this is a crazy world.
Transitioning: But Not The Kind You Think
I’m in the middle of transitioning from MF to FF.
No! Don’t worry! I’m in no way thinking that my brain would be happier if I had balls to scratch and I could pee standing up.
My transition doesn’t involve taking dangerous hormones or denying mental illness or cutting up my body. And it is not rooted in woman-hate. No, that would describe the transgender kind of transitioning.
The kind of change I’m talking about is health-oriented and woman-friendly and doesn’t require me to erase myself or my lived reality. It is just a refocusing of energy, a streamlining of behaviour to remove unnecessary actions, and cutting a swathe through the hard, impacted bullshit that is Patriarchy.
I’m transitioning from Male-Focused to Female-Focused.
Whether women are aware of it or not – and I’d argue that it’s mostly unconscious – we are trained to serve male ‘needs’. In reality, men don’t ‘need’ anything from women, but over time, desires and a sense of entitlement have created a whole host of needs that cannot be realized without one or more female slaves. And the needs are uncountable. They can be the obvious and universal: “I need my dick serviced when, where and how I want” or “You will prioritize my words and ideas – I can interrupt you and any girl/woman no matter what you are doing, everything I say is right, etc.” But the needs can be sub-group-, geography-, or man-specific. It is elaborate, but has one simple rule. Woman caters to man to her detriment.
I lament the female energy, talent, and intelligence that has long been and continues to be wasted on catering to the weaker sex.
Back to my personal transitioning.
It is hard. I can imagine it would be next to impossible if you lived with a man in a heterosexual relationship. You just wouldn’t be allowed not to cater. I don’t really have any advice for women in this situation other than: leave. That simple, but really key, suggestion can inspire angry reactions (my Dick isn’t like that! He caters to my needs too!); sad reactions (I wish I could, but I can’t for X, Y, Z reasons); and the sacrificial lamb reactions (He would be lost without me – I can’t leave him. He can’t help it.) And I’m sure there are other categories.
In addition to romantic relationships, it is hard when you are forced to work around males. Most of us can’t work in a man-free environment. Most women have male bosses, colleagues and clients. Myself, I seldom have to deal with supervisors – male or female – which is awesome. But as a university instructor in science and engineering in China (the land of propaganda and conformity to rigid Patriarchy in a way I’ll write about in the future), almost all my students are male. That sucks. They demand so much more of my energy than female students because they act like 5-year-olds, can’t focus, don’t listen, don’t follow instructions, and wear misogyny like a bad perfume. [I have a whole post on dumb boy-children in education.] I find I dissociate almost completely when I teach in order to stay Female-Focused. I have a completely separate persona/identity/mask/hazmat suit that I put on when I enter the classroom. I do help some of the more enthusiastic students outside of class, though – that is the teacher in me, and I’d feel like I wasn’t doing a good job if I trampled on natural motivation to learn/improve. Unfortunately, female students with ambition in China are few and far between. Women are not supposed to help themselves, or pursue goals other than finding a husband and an acceptably low-level job and popping out a preferably male kid and catering to its every need. So most of the students I help are male. To deal with the obvious male-focus, I try to de-sex them and just see them as ‘youth’ or ‘student’. It goes better if I tell myself, “I am helping a student.” If I do get an ambitious female student, I try to help them as much as possible. This semester, for example, a 17-year-old, first-year, female law student crashed my class (it was a class for Masters-level Management/Finance students). Afterwards, she came up to talk to me, and she told me she was reading “The Second Sex” by Simone de Beauvoir. I think my jaw hit the floor. Most Western woman have never read it, and feminism is very frowned upon in China. Anyhow, I’ll nurture this one as long as she wants it. She is highly unusual in her self-confidence and thirst for forbidden knowledge.
Finally, it is hard to evaluate friendships with men. Once I started transitioning, I realized that most to all of my friendships with men were ones from which I got very little and sometimes had to put up with a lot of bad stuff I wouldn’t have to with most women. There are weird abuses, confusing insult-compliment combos, the inevitable sexual intrusions, the demands on your energy, and having to overlook a whole lotta misogynistic behaviour that wouldn’t be acceptable if you were honest with yourself. As I’ve mentioned before, I’ve been shedding many of these male parasites over the last few years. One of the things that becomes really hard – and I think this is true of friendships as well as romantic relationships – is seeing one’s investment (time, money, emotion) as a waste or a loss and then letting it go instead of using it as a reason to stay. It doesn’t help that relationship-building isn’t easy, and it gets harder to make friends as you get older. But ultimately, breaking an unhealthy tie is better for you than allowing a parasite to feed and drain and ultimately kill you.
Transition periods can be very, very difficult. You often question what you’re doing. You often feel alone and lonely. You worry about what your future will look like. You wonder whether you deserve to have a better life and whether you are being selfish for taking care of your own basic needs. You may find yourself insulted in a variety of different, but standard ways, but that will just show you how right you were about leaving.
But what you have to remember is that no one deserves to be second or less important or a slave to anyone else. And that basic belief will sustain you and get you to a better, healthier place.
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Why I’d Rather Deal With Women
If we remove from the population all those men and women with unfixable and publicly dangerous mental health problems such as personality disorders (psychopaths and narcissistic personality disordered individuals, specifically), I can easily make the blanket statement that I’d rather deal with women exclusively in all areas of life. I’d even go so far as to say that my life would improve immeasurably, and I wouldn’t shed a single tear, if I never saw another male – adult or child – ever again in my life. Just thinking about it fills me with this wistfulness, this longing, this impression of wings unfurling and endless possibilities and freedom. And then I remember that it’s an impossible dream, and I sink back into the cocoon I call ‘survival mode’ that is what awakened feminists must live in, daily.
I’m sure many people have their backs up, their knickers in a twist, and knives sharpened at what I’ve just intimated. Defensive retorts after a split second of recognition on the lips of women. Threats of violence, misogynist slurs, and haughty, mansplanatory rationalizations in the minds of men. I see you all.
But I don’t care. My fantasy world without men is a safe world. A good world. A sane world. A healthy world. In my fantasy, it is that way. If it were to become reality, I have no doubt it would indeed be safe, good, sane and healthy. Because this fantasy is borne of 43 years of experience of the violence, fear, hurt, damage, threats, filth, disrespect, insanity, cruelty, coldness, incomprehensibility, greed, pride, othering, dehumanizing, and death, death, death that is the male gift to the world. No amount of rationalizing or lies or rare exceptions provided by men or the women who support them in serious denial can controvert thousands of years of evidence, nevermind the evidence of one 43-year-long life.
Again, removing the most dangerous of men and women and looking at the average person, I can say the following confidently. Dealing with the average woman is much different – and better – than dealing with the average man.
The absolute, most important difference between dealing with men and dealing with women is safety. I don’t feel safe with strange men, but I also don’t feel safe with men I know. Anything can and does happen. Betrayal can happen in the blink of an eye depending on how his dick feels that day, how he interprets your non-verbals in relation to his ‘needs’, or how threatened he is by your intelligence, talent, attitude or confidence. Any of these variables can lead to his violence against you. I’ve never felt unsafe with a woman, stranger or known. Men can’t understand this feeling of unsafeness. Men don’t look over their shoulders. Men don’t evaluate options or potential outcomes for travel or just getting from Point A to Point B prior to setting out. Men don’t worry about having their identities or home locations known. Men don’t worry about friendships with women or what it means to accept help from them, whether there is an unspoken or unacceptable price to pay down the line. I’d rather a female delivery person or electrician enter my home than a male. I’d rather have a meeting with a female client than a male. Safety issues touch every aspect of your life. And women are safer to deal with.
Men make everything filthy and dehumanizing. This is, of course, tied to safety – with men, sex and violence cannot be separated. I can contemplate any neutral scenario or even a potentially sexual scenario, and as soon as I imagine a man entering that scenario, it is ruined. I have an automatic pulse of revulsion, of anger, of fear. They sexualize everything, including the unsexual or neutral. And in a potentially sexual situation, the way they sexualize is degrading, humiliating, unequal, and can make you feel dirty. Their presence automatically imposes hierarchy on a situation where no hierarchy exists. If it is a discussion, the entrance of a man changes the dynamic for the worse. He becomes the sun around which everyone orbits. If I think about a roomful of women in a state of undress, it doesn’t have to be sexual at all. Just human. Functional. Natural. It could be sexual – but in a clean, joyous, equal way. I think this is how sex would be between women living without the taint of Patriarchy ‘dirtifying’ everything. As it is, I think many lesbians look for ‘dirty sex’ and that is a marker of Patriarchal conditioning. But anyways, the thought of a man entering any kind of dynamic makes it filthy for me. I’m still trying to analyze this in a way that I can express, but it first struck me tangibly that I felt that way when I was about 30 and still trying to hold onto the idea that men were at least part of my sexual landscape. It’s material for another post.
Women don’t impose insanity or irrationality upon situations. Perhaps it’s because women have natural (yes, I said it – natural!) tendencies to listen, empathize, sympathize, relate and cooperate, but negotiations with a woman (who doesn’t fit into the mental illness categories described above) seldom become ridiculous. It’s actually very easy to develop consensus with women or to work together on a project when the taint of Patriarchy is as absent as possible. With men, on the other hand, things can be crazy. Dominance is always present. There is always a power-play, and the less you wish to be dominated, the more insane, irrational (and violent) a situation with a man can become. Men don’t cooperate – they dominate. If they can’t dominate, they get violent one way or another, and often will abandon or sabotage a project if they don’t get their own way.
Women are concerned with health. I like dealing with women because they think about health in a different way. Men don’t think about health because the women in their lives do it for them. Women will talk about health and problems and how they are related and will share information. I think this is a remnant from older times when wise women and healers and those of their persuasion had some prominence. When men took over (and by took over, I mean discredited and often tortured and killed these women) the health realm, they turned it into a business. It became another field in which to dominate women, and a new realm for greed, profit, sadistic experimentation (power) and prominence/fame. Although I’ve worked in health policy, health research, and worked extensively with and for doctors, I find the whole world revolting and frightening. I truly think there is an opportunity for women to take it back and return to the old ways.
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Our world is currently one where dealing exclusively and authentically with women is roadblocked by men in multiple ways. The effects of this have been serious. With men in the way, we have lost our safety, our purity (not to be confused with the religious bullshit concept of purity), our sanity, and our health. If only fantasy could become reality.
I Tried, and I Had to Leave
For some of us, it’s a process. It can be a lengthy process if you score high on empathy, have any kind of draw to the helping professions, and/or come from an abusive family (for females, not males) where you’re not allowed to stand up for yourself. I’m referring to shedding the dead weight known as men.
Dead weight is only a partially correct term. Yes, men give you a heavy load to drag around with you, draining your limited (and often low) energy. This energy will be redirected from the little self-care you allow yourself to listening to their endless whining, helping them with their endless problems, taking care of them, paying for them, cleaning up after them, etc. But they also fill you with lies and misinformation. They attack your limited self-confidence. They make you doubt yourself. They steal your ideas and creations. They stop your thoughts when you start to appear a little too independent or critical. They’ve got a dangerous arsenal at the ready.
And there is only one solution for that. Get the fuck away from them. Don’t tie yourself to them. Do serious vetting if you are considering being around one. Ideally, never deal with them, although that is next to impossible as this is NOT ALLOWED and besides, practically impossible given that there is unfortunately no female-only territory/country (never mind woman-space, these days).
So, for many, it is a process. I’ve been doing just that. It has been a long process. Very gradual, although more accelerated in the last year.
Except for one or two I haven’t managed to eject from my life and except for mandatory listening that is part of my job as an educator, I don’t willingly listen to them anymore – so much so, that find myself automatically tuning out when one speaks. I jokingly attribute it to age and my hearing, but of course, it’s just that I’m tired of feeling ‘vampired’ after interactions with their non-stop verbal dick-swinging and too-apparent mental deficiencies.
I also don’t bother joining any groups that aim to ‘change things for the better’ if men are involved at all. There is no such thing as an honest to goodness male activist. It doesn’t matter whether said dude is an environmentalist or an atheist fighting religion, the changes dudes look to effect are ones that maintain male dominance. Women don’t factor in as recipients of positive change. And male feminists, as I’ve said before (here and here), the scourge of activism – well, I truly don’t know what they are doing exactly. Soapboxing, perhaps. Men naturally gravitate to self-righteous pontification. But the majority of them spend way too much time telling women what to do or not do. Many of the white male feminists like to shit on white female feminists and accuse them of not only doing feminism wrong, but calling them racist or transphobic. It’s as if they take some kind of pleasure in finding someone else to blame for everything they’ve done on their own. It’s revolting.
And this leads into my latest shedding of dead weight. I forced myself to sort of suffer through the reading of ‘We Hunted the Mammoth’ posts for a while. When I first ran into the site, I thought “let’s see what happens here”. I much prefer men who purport to be fighting the fight (although, I can’t be bothered to go and check whether the author calls himself a male feminist) to keep their own blogs and to read, but not comment, on women’s blogs (for the reasons mentioned above). I was amused that he was taking on the Morons Rights Activists (seriously the dumbest, loudest and most violent men on the planet besides MtT dudes and both Christian and Muslim male fundamentalists). I think this is a job for men. But of course, because men truly don’t understand women’s issues, it is impossible for them to take down these assholes completely. I get the impression that WHTM sees the MRAs as a joke primarily, and he slaps them around like a cat does a mouse. And indeed, if you look at who comments on WHTM, it is mostly dudes who like swinging their dicks around, feeling superior as if they are doing something Important. There is no real talk of women’s rights or feminism. There is no willingness to get on board with or understand radical feminism. It is just an amusement to write about and comment on the latest ‘hijinks’.
I have been commenting occasionally. No one interacts with me, which is fine – that’s not what I went there for. For me, it was more like dropping a beautiful, perfectly-shaped, feminist turd in the middle of a circle jerk, and it gave me a little pleasure and satisfaction. A few people clicked over, likely to check out the bitch who dared comment on an anti-MRA site (remember, male feminists aren’t activating for women’s sake, but just to feel superior). But it didn’t take long to get bored. The writing is not interesting, and neither are the verbose commenters. The blog has no purpose other than poking fun, and if I want that, I read the comics. I’ve noticed other feminist blogs commenting that all the rad fems that initially stuck around that blog and tried commenting ended up leaving. Too much misogyny and dick-swinging – and no real purpose.
I feel much lighter for having shed this silly corner of the internet.
If you want to visit a blog that is much more effective and on point and with clear purpose in dealing with MRA bullshit, you must, of course turn to a woman (don’t you always?). Mancheeze takes things seriously. You won’t be disappointed.
They Don’t Do It Because They Care
It’s a well-known, but seldom acknowledged, fact that women are the majority of activists, volunteers, caretakers, and mess-cleaner-uppers in this world. Without women (which I will yammer about in a future post), the human world would likely have crumbled or exploded before it had gotten a foothold and was left to fester.
Yet it is men who are cited as the activists to end all activists. It is men who are turned into living gods for all the good works they do. It is men who are given credit for humanitarianism even when they did nothing but steal the credit and order around hordes of selfless women. Indeed, all our heroes are male.
The world loves cock, and men make sure that it stays that way.
But it doesn’t change the fact that the majority of good works and selfless acts are done by women. And they do it without expecting fame, pay, gratitude, or blow jobs.
Myself, I never trust a male activist or a man who purports to support a cause or who says he is truly interested in the helping professions. There are always ulterior motives.
Helping professions. Young men study psychology, not because they want to help people with mental illness or understand why they themselves are so fucking fucked up. They do it to understand how to manipulate women and to get laid – the majority of undergrad psych classes are comprised of females. If you do the simple math, the odds of being able to score a female psych major (and according to tv, female psych majors are ALL hot or hot under their glasses and penny loafers), are better than in a math class, say. In graduate school, if men manage to scam a university into giving them a doctorate, they do it for the power. I lived in psych departments for 7 years, and saw lower standards and bigger egos for and from the males all around. As professors, they have the pick of hottie female grad students (I’ve seen abuse of power like this many times – frequently profs date or just fuck their students). As clinical psychologists, it is amazing how many vulnerable women they have to pick from in the privacy of their offices. There is an air of control and superiority that male psychologists carry around with them at all times (trust me, decades of personal experience with a psychologist father attests to this). All of this is doubly true for physicians who prey on nurses, and get away with abusing female patients psychologically, medically, and sexually. Their egos fly at god level (more attesting here – I’ve worked for, with, and done research on a number of these fuckers. They’re repulsive and so fucking special, it hurts.) Teachers? According to Germaine Greer, women teach and men train. And I’d add that men also form the bulk of sexual predators on little kids, teens, college kids and grad students. (Male teachers from Grade 6, 7, and 8 come to mind…) One male acquaintance was whining to me that he had thought about becoming a teacher of kids, but there had been one case he’d heard about where a male teacher was falsely accused of pedophilia and his life was ruined. My friend’s solution? Did he run a campaign against patriarchy and raising awareness for sex crimes against children? Hell no. He had hurt feelings, put on the victim mantle, and abandoned his career dreams. Perhaps on some level, he knew that male teachers are often pervs and seldom get caught, and that this false positive was just an anomaly. But on the tip of his tongue was blaming mothers for protecting their children from pervs who are real and prevalent. He didn’t say it, but it was there – he just knew I’d ‘take issue’ with misogyny/Patriarchy support and accuse him of being the misogynist he is.
Activists. Men don’t give a shit about anything other than their dicks. It doesn’t matter whether they are fighting religion, capitalism, environmental abuse, animal rights abuse, racism, or my favourite – misogyny – they don’t connect with the issue in the way that women do, and they don’t join the fight for the same reasons women do. In men’s eyes, there is street cred to be obtained for fighting something. It provides opportunities for mansplaining. It gives them access to and control over real activists: women. And they can slip in their own agenda (male dominance) under the cover of whatever activism they are pretending to support. Much of the time, these guys do little but talk loudly, issue pronouncements or orders, and they get the credit for all the work that women have done. And the superiority they feel when recognized for being ‘one of the good ones’. Barfo. I have an upcoming post on male feminists, the scourge of the activism scene.
Volunteers. I actually haven’t met a lot of male volunteers even though I’ve done plenty of this kind of work myself. And I’m not talking enforced volunteer work – which exists in reality, oxymoronically. When forced as part of a school program (common to mandatory in China), resume booster (more common in the US/Canada to make for competitive school application packages these days), or punishment schedule (correction system in many places for lesser felonies), men do volunteer work alongside women. No, I’m talking about real, self-initiated volunteer work. Of their own selfless volition, it is a rare thing, indeed, for men to decide to help others. Men don’t believe they should work for free. It’s okay and natural for women though. Men have supposedly more important things to do. And they don’t do anything unless it benefits them personally and tangibly. The idea of doing something to help someone in need without getting something (monetary, material, reputation-enhancing or sexual) in return is a very foreign concept for them. The one dude I’ve worked closely with as a volunteer touted himself as an ‘idea guy’. He had plenty of ideas, but he just needed people (i.e., women) to carry out the actual grunt work. Yeah, a real volunteer.
So, my personal philosophy is to be skeptical of all men who say they care deeply about something or who want to help the world. Nothing is EVER one-way giving for men. There is always a price they demand. You just may not see it or pay it at first. And you may be tricked into paying it simply because you’re a woman who wants to reward good works or reinforce rare male pro-social behaviour, or because you’ve been trained from birth to see everything Dick does in a positive light even if he hasn’t done a damn thing other than tell you he is a good person.
If you’re a dude reading this and you’re getting pissy, then I’d suggest you have too much time on your hands. There is a great need for volunteers out there, and you’re wasting time on the internet nursing your woman-hate!
Giving Thanks
I didn’t realize it was Thanksgiving today until some of my Chinese students sent me text and chat messages with some lovely sentiments within. I decided not to remind them that I’m not American, and that while Canadians do celebrate Thanksgiving, we do it in October. I actually taught my students this and explained why Americans celebrate in November and Canadians in October, but Canadians don’t tend to impose their culture on the world, so my lesson didn’t stick. Western culture IS American culture.
Anyhow, I’m not ranting about Americans today – this post isn’t about pornography or capitalism, you see.
I’m talking about thankfulness and how men and women may differ in their perspectives.
As a woman, I’m grateful for every day that I manage not to get raped, sexually assaulted, harassed or reminded that I’m inferior. Luckily, I don’t experience the first two that often anymore – I am getting older and am not deemed as fuckable as I once was, although I’m not immune. But in China, the latter two happen every time I leave my apartment.
As a white woman, I’m ogled as soon as I step outside my apartment door. My neighbours objectify me and other me. They may cringe against the wall in the stairwell with horrified looks on their faces as I pass by them. Walking through my immediate neighbourhood is a daily struggle to remind myself that I’m human and not a walking twat and set of tits. Two-and-a-half years in a place should earn me a spot among humans, but I’m not Chinese and I am a woman, so I must be reminded by every single person I pass that I hold the privilege of being on public display as a sexual object to be enjoyed or reviled (or both) by all. Men don’t get this treatment I (and occasionally they) have observed. And they become invisible if they are walking with me, as I take the heat.
Since opting out of being othered is not possible, I have to resort to feeling thankful if I make it through my errand back to the safety of my apartment without being pointed at, laughed at, yelled at, called racial slurs, or hit on purpose – all of which do happen, and not infrequently. Because I’m a woman and because I’m not Chinese. I’m thankful for my white privilege and the special status that gives me.
The Girl and The Stranger in The Car
This post is part of the ongoing Birth of a Feminist series. Listen along to my recording on YouTube and/or read the article below ♥♀

Although our goals may be similar, there are two significant differences between serious feminists and superheroines. First, true feminists wear comfortable, woman-friendly clothes. And second, unlike superheroines, feminists don’t usually have a clear, specific origin story. Rather, we have moments of clarity or realization. Moments that accumulate. Moments that may not become significant or actionable until later, sometimes in combination with other moments. Sometimes, it is a seemingly small event or moment that puts a lifetime of horror into perspective. You meet someone, you read something, you see or experience something that just makes you say ‘I see what is going on, and I’ve had enough’. It is a matter of right time, right place, and readiness/openness. Although it may happen, I think it is a rare woman who, like Athena, is born clad in full warrior gear.
In this vein, if asked when I became a feminist, I don’t think I could tell you. There have been many significant events that have made me what I am. And I’m still developing. I still make typical mistakes. That is gender programming. It takes a lifetime to siphon the poison from one’s personal psychology and behaviour.
I still remember an early formative moment. It’s something I think about decades later, and it still guides me. It’s not the most important formative event, but rather, one of many.
I was 13. It was a winter evening at about 9:30 pm. It was freezing, dark, snow everywhere. I had attended my father’s university lecture in psychology. We were driving home. I was sitting in the passenger seat in the front of the car, looking out the window.
And I saw her.
A woman being dragged by her hair across the snow into a bush. She was fighting, but not winning. The man who had her was bigger and determined. And it was late on a weeknight in the winter. There was no one around.
I shouted to stop the car. Startled, my father pulled over. I pointed and insisted. We intervened. The man ran off. We hustled the woman into our car and drove her home. She was mostly silent, but we learned her attacker was her ex-husband. I was also silent, emotions confused. I was learning something important. I realized that had I not seen her and done something, something BAD would have happened. But my understanding wasn’t nuanced.
And afterwards, my father, the brilliant psychologist, never spoke a word about it. I was not debriefed. Not counselled. I was left to draw my own conclusions. Possibly, he remembered having to intervene when his father beat his mother. No excuse though. When I look back at that child from the perspective of an adult, I’m shocked, saddened, and I wish I could go back to do damage control. But would I be what I am and do what I do if I’d not worked through that business alone?
A girl is exposed to explicit, real life violence – a stranger’s near rape/beating/murder. She plays a significant role in ending that violence, shares a space with the stranger for a few minutes, the significant connection between them left unarticulated, the silence controlled by another man, and then, and the child is left to wonder, to analyze, to worry, to fear. To build a schema.
It was only years later after many, many object lessons on what men were, thought about and did to women, after intervening in other near-rapes and beatings, that I realized that the woman I had saved years before was only temporarily safe. Temporarily safe from this specific man in her life, and generally, from all men no matter where or when. There is no beginning and end to violence for women. There are episodes in a lifetime of fear. And there are many lifetimes. This woman was one of millions and millions and millions through time. We are all that woman at some point. And to not be a feminist – to not want female freedom from male violence and control – is just not an option. For me, at least.
This post is part of the Birth of a Feminist series.
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Lab Work: A New Job Choice for Men
I get annoyed – although that is not quite the right word – when I hear men and their fembots talk about how prostitution and other rape-oriented work is really a fantastic work option for women. They rename it ‘sex work’ to take away the rapey, violent aspect of it and to diminish this kind of slavery so that it is on par with flipping burgers.
I get further annoyed listening to men say they are ‘jealous’ about women’s options. How they wish they could rake in the cash by doing what women are lucky enough to be able to do with their natural attributes and talents. How prostitution is ‘easy money’. How using prostitutes and strippers and watching porn is ‘contributing to the economy’.
It’s fucking gross. And ignorant. And it’s horrible to hear women parrot what these men say.
Given that it doesn’t look like we are going to change that culture and belief system any time soon using rationality and appeals to morality and human rights – like men give a shit about that, right? – I propose a more effective method.
Men generally only understand problems when they affect them. Self-centred creatures, you have to hit men where it hurts. Raping women doesn’t hurt them, but maybe experiencing something analogous would. Maybe…
Anyhow, here is my proposal.
I think we should open up a new job category that is only open to men. It’s called ‘lab work’. Here’s how it works. I am against animal testing, and I think all beings should be able to choose the type of work they do. Currently, animals don’t have that right. So I will free them. Instead, men will be able to choose to have chemicals and drugs tested on them in exchange for money. In fact, teen-aged boys can choose to do it too.
There is potential for ‘big money’ – or at least, that’s the rumour/promise. It will be a good choosey-choice for men who would otherwise suck from the government cock (aka ‘welfare kings’), or be homeless, or have to resort to finding a sugar mommy. It can help young men pay for their college education. And some bored men – from househusbands to professors – can even choose to do it as a sideline and then act as poster boys for the ‘happy lab rat’ when people try to critique this important, empowering job choice.
They will be provided with comfortable cages in view of other men. Drugs will be available to make the work even more palatable. We can even groom boys from a young age to see this type of work as a good career option.
Why is this work so important? Well, you see, women have a god/nature-given right to safe cosmetics, hair products, household cleaners, and properly tested medications. We can’t provide that safety guarantee unless we test them. Men provide the best test subjects – men tell us all the time that they are better than women at everything, so naturally, they are totally and naturally made for this job. And it is a good match anyways – everyone wins. Women have their rights satisfied and men make a good living! Women will contribute to the economy and help men stay employed and feel empowered. Besides, if men don’t provide this needed service, women will likely start illegally testing the chemicals they need on the men in their lives. And we all know that that isn’t good for society. We need to protect the virtuous men. And the others, the unspeakables, are better suited for lab work, anyway. All in all, we reduce random violence against family men by legalizing lab work.
Agency, empowerment, choice, free will, economic stability, men’s rights. That is what this job is all about.
Oh, and by the way, if you think you have any right to criticize this proposal, think again. I will shout you down as a gynophobe, a misogynist, a communist, and worst of all… a LWEMRA (Lab Work Exclusionary Men’s Rights Activist). And I’ll probably just throw in racist, homophobe, Islamophobe, and a few other terms I’ll make up along the way, just to get you to shut the hell up and let men choose their choices with agency and dignity!
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I’ll add these as I see them – cases that support the implementation of this kind of work. It is especially relevant when MEN create dangerous products for WOMEN. They should absolutely be tested on men first so that their safety can be vouched for.
Forgiveness is a Plot Device
The heterosexual romantic narrative in all cultures is boring and stinky as shit and as transparent, fragile and scary as an ultra-ultra-thin condom.
And yet so many people buy into it.
Boy meets girl, usually showing himself to be a playboy or outright misogynist. Girl is intrigued: “Boy is an asshole, but I can’t. stop. thinking. about. him”. Boy shows some tiny vulnerability which serves as the ‘hook’, the thing girl remembers years down the road when wondering “what the hell did I dooooo?”. Boy eventually traps girl in holy matrimony, abuses her, and then keeps her there through enforced pregnancy and by mouthing the word love before penis-insertion and after slapping her around physically or verbally or psychologically. Well, this general progression forms the plot of most het lives and most of the rom-coms and steamy novellas out there. And not just in the West.
Part and parcel with selling this garbage as what women want is the programming of feelings: acceptable and unacceptable feelings.
In the romantic narrative, as girl begins to question why she is with boy, in come plot devices – the preferred feelings allowed to girl. You see if these plot devices weren’t employed, the story would end. Girl would leave. Girl might not go down the garden path in the first place. Unacceptable feelings, the effective ones that are programmed out of us at an early age and through the reading and viewing of acceptable film and literature out there, are the feelings that might actually save us from sexual slavery and throw a wrench in Patriarchy.
One of the most popular Patriarchy approved feelings or plot devices is FORGIVENESS. This device, the lack of which would end a romantic story toot sweet, says that no matter what boy does to girl, she must not retaliate or exit stage left. She cannot kill a boy who rapes or tries to kill her. She must forgive him. She must not adopt an eye for an eye mentality. She must forgive him. She must not get angry, take the kids and run. She must forgive him. She must not challenge his rape-supporting porn use. She must forgive him. She must not divorce him because he cheated on her. She must forgive him. And on and on. Several basic events revolving round the same theme.
We are told forgiveness is a virtue. Hmm. I’ll tell you, forgiveness does have some merit – when a woman forgives herself for ‘being so stupid!’ in believing a man has her best interests in mind or makes her a priority or sees her as an equal and free human. When a woman forgives herself for making the mistake of blaming women instead of men for her oppression, forgiveness has merit.
But forgiving men for abusing her, raping her, denigrating her, not fighting for her liberation and humanity? Nope, then it’s just a plot device.
That’s all folks!
Conversations with Men: You’re White, So I Get to Fuck You
Eventually, I’m going to do a whole post on purported ‘white woman privilege’ that every single group (sometimes including self-immolating white lib-fem women) on the planet likes to shout to silence a white woman when she tries to speak. [Update: I went ahead and created the White Girl series to address this huge problem.] White women are still women, and there is the shit heap of hate and violence that goes with that. A white woman doesn’t have anywhere near the advantages that a white man has, and in many cases that a man of colour has, yet has to be held accountable for all the sins of the white man – her lord and master. But know that penis always wins over vagina, no matter the colour. Sex is the original, longest-existing, and most disregarded or pooh-poohed oppression in human history – all oppressions derive from it. Being white doesn’t erase woman-hatred, and can bring with it, in fact, a set of unique problems. But that discussion is for another post. I’m writing today about a recent conversation with a man that falls into this category of penis trumping vagina, despite colour. A man of colour targets a white woman for sexual assault based on sexual stereotypes of her.
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Rewind to six months ago: For those who aren’t regular readers, I live in Southern China. I work at a university that has a handful of campuses. I live on one of the smaller campuses in the staff housing. I am the only white person here. There are a few Filipino teachers and a handful of mostly black students here too. The bulk of the foreigners live at the main campus. I’m a bit lonely. I don’t know many people in my immediate area save a few of my better students who occasionally have lunch with me. While I’m open to meeting new people, I don’t actively seek it out. I’m quiet and a loner and I’m a-okay with that.
The night in question, I had gone into town to meet up with a Chinese friend, and I had arrived back at my campus mid-evening after a truly lovely day. It was starting to get dark. As I was entering the campus gates, a man sidled over and began to walk with and talk to me. I thought he must have been one of the black students who live at our campus. It turns out he was a French-speaker, which immediately piqued my interest as I seldom get to practise my French, so we switched languages. He said he was from Paris and taught French at our school. I was a little surprised. We have one woman from France here and she usually teaches Business English, not French. And we lost our Italian teacher after they started forcing her to teach English. But whatever. The school doesn’t inform me of new staff hires. So we chatted, and when we got to the fork in the road where I went off to staff housing, and he was going off to the dorms where he said he lived, we exchanged phone numbers. I was happy to have a new French-speaking friend who was an adult and had world experience. I like students, but I find there is always a teacher-student boundary that I don’t like to cross with regard to conversation topics. Sometimes, I just want friends – and here, I don’t meet a lot of adult women. Sometimes, I let my guard down and allow the possibility of a male friend. Usually a mistake. Men don’t become friends with women without there being a self-serving purpose. Women are there to be used in a variety of ways. I feel very stupid every time I forget that.
So, I went off on my way home.
Being female, I did what I always do when interacting with males. I checked behind me a few times. No matter how nice a dude is, you want to make sure you’re not followed. It had nothing to do with race (I can just hear someone screaming ‘YOU DID THAT BECAUSE HE WAS BLACK – WAAAAAAAH!!!!!’ Nope. I’m wary of ALL men. Men of all races have attacked me. No one gets a free pass. Penis = justified suspicion. I’d given him my phone number, yes, but no dude can truly be trusted, and I don’t let men know where I live. Ever. So I looked back. I was safe. No one followed me.
About half an hour after I returned, I got a phone call. It was Dude. WTF? And immediately, he aggressively started in with demands to come over and fuck me. Talking over me as I tried to say no. Repeating the demands over and over. At first, I fell into the typical girl thing and said I had a boyfriend. Didn’t matter, he said. He just wanted to fuck. Don’t be so serious. I asked him why he didn’t have a local girlfriend. He said he didn’t like Chinese girls. I knew what that meant. You can’t just fuck Chinese girls – they are more conservative here. I didn’t bother asking about the other African students – men who go abroad often don’t like women of their own race (white men never approach me here in China since they are after Asian pussy). So that meant he targeted me because I was white, and every man of every race knows that white women will fuck anyone. We’re ‘easy’. And that’s when I got really pissed. Like all men, a woman’s ‘no’ doesn’t mean a thing. And the racial component, which I’ve experienced soooo many times before, sent me over the edge. I switched to English to regain a slight feeling of power in the situation. I told him off. Made my position as clear as possible. He was being disrespectful of me. I was angry. And I was not interested at all in sex. I told him he lied to me. I was adamant that he not call me again.
And he called me again. And again. And again. Over the next few weeks, he called several times. I never answered. And I decided not to block him because I wanted to keep a record of the harassment in my phone log.
I went into the Foreign Affairs Office of my university, which unfortunately was at the main campus – not mine. I reported the guy. I only had a first name and a phone number. There was no record of him as a student. And he definitely wasn’t a teacher either. All I knew was that he was a potential rapist who had targeted me because I was a woman and white. The Foreign Affairs Officer said there was nothing that could be done. I asked if we could call the police (our campus is, in fact, beside a police academy). He said no. Apparently, in China, sexual harassment, stalking or even sexual assault aren’t police matters. What??? I think the guy didn’t want the reputation of the university to be tarnished by a sexual harassment complaint. The Foreign Affairs Officer (a man) suggested that I not go out at night. For fuck’s sake! So, this is MY problem. There is a rapist on the loose, and I have to alter MY behaviour.
I was terrified walking around on my campus. What if I ran into him? I am easy to pick out since I am the only white woman around for miles. What if he followed me? The guy was huge. There was no way I would be able to fight him off. And if I managed to hurt him, I would be imprisoned thanks to misogynist Chinese law. Rape isn’t taken seriously here.
Well, I mostly didn’t go out at night for a long time. I lived in terror knowing that no one was on my side. Eventually, the calls stopped. Maybe he found someone else to rape. All of this became just another of many similar dealings with men and yet another reason not to trust them or interact with them unnecessarily. I’m tired of being threatened and feeling terrified and having to alter MY behaviour and routines.
This is an example of my white female privilege. Are you jealous? We are targeted by men of different races because we are seen as the epitome of whores. The crème de la crème. All women are whores, and all women should aspire to be as light-skinned as possible. The whiter you are, the more of a prize fuck you are. And we are open to it, so the stereotype goes. We will fuck anyone and everyone. We are public property. If you can fuck a white woman – and of course, according to American TV and films (written and produced mostly by white men, many of whom are Jewish), all white women do is look for opportunities to get naked and fuck, so it must be true – then you score big time. You can check it off your list of things to do before you die. This is what happens when men define female freedom. Female freedom = happy for every many to fuck her. For free. Anytime. Anywhere. The word “no” isn’t in her vocabulary. And some white women (e.g., see the slutwalk brigade) have taken men’s words to heart.
I haven’t. Liberation means something very different to me. It means freedom from men’s desires, demands and crimes (which are all the same thing). It means freedom from fear. Fear of men and what they do and get away with. Adopting the dictates of slavery as your own does not free you. It just opens you up to more abuse. And all men know this and try to take advantage of this. So black men, Asian men, Arab men, aboriginal men – all men – have now proclaimed an open season on white women. Mark my words, white girls. By accepting your boys’ definition of (sexual) freedom, you must service all men free of charge. Rape is not possible when men believe you want it 24/7, and all they hear you saying is, “yep, I’m a slut”. I see you as brainlessly complicit in the shit that happens to me. Not the masterminds, but dangerous sheep-accomplices, nonetheless.
And though I’ll cover this in my future post on the intersection of race and sex, I’ll just be clear here since I know reading this will make people uncomfortable because white women aren’t supposed to experience systemic problems or talk about them. I am not negating violence against women of colour or their unique problems resulting from sex and their particular race and location in the world. I am saying that we are not responsible for what white men or men of colour do to them, though. Every group of women experiences a combination of racial and sexual stereotyping and punishment at the hands of men of all different groups. Including white women. The truth is that it is not all fun and games for white chicks despite what you might need to tell yourself to feel at home in your own particular oppression-group or to feel righteous when you attack the white women you feel obliged to ‘other’. We make much easier targets than men of any colour, and it is widely believed that hurting us, the property of white men, is the best way to sock one to the male masters.
The Waste of a Gift
The following will be really, really hard to understand if you are a man, especially a man living in a Western country run on ‘democracy’ (there has never been a true democracy, so I put that in quotes).
If you have lived in any kind of dictatorship – and by that, I mean a real dictatorship, not a ‘democracy’ that many men will call dictatorships because they don’t get to abuse or rape women as freely as they wish – or you are a member of an oppressed group, such as women, LGB, or racial minorities, then this might be easier to understand.
In the semi-free societies that result from a ‘democracy’, people have rights or what we conceived of as (morally, legally) protected categories of behaviour. There is no set list of rights, and in fact, there are rights we likely haven’t conceived of yet simply because we live in a male-dominated society that has different priorities for human life than, say, a non-sadism-based society would have. You see, rights are not innate or natural. Rather, they are symptoms or markers of a civilized society. The more advanced a society, the more numerous and more equally applied to all people these human rights are. Likewise, the less civilized or advanced a society, the fewer rights are allowed for everyone equally. In a sense, rights are a gift to be shared by all members of society, not to be taken for granted or abused.
Even within our currently semi-free societies, these rights are not equally allowed or protected. The ruling class – specifically, men, since all societies are currently male-dominated – will be more protected than other groups, and they will often take liberties in defining those rights for themselves and in restricting those rights for other groups (first and foremost, women).
The most troubling thing about the most ‘advanced’ societies that actually build rights into their governments’ legal mandates is that the most powerful people (men) don’t see rights as the communal gifts that they are. They see them as more like property or collectibles that individuals can own. And instead of using them for good or for further social and intellectual advancement of their society – which I see as the primary goal of human life – they use them to further agendas of hate, violence, dominance, oppression, and self-centred pleasure.
If one uses the right of ‘free speech’ as an example, we can see blatant abuse by the dominant class (men, of all colours). The abuses take the form of silencing the speech of women, while promoting the voices of men. Redefining oppressed groups’ (especially women’s) non-violent speech as hate and violence. Defining or including hate and violence against women (e.g., pornography) as speech, when clearly it isn’t. Using speech as a weapon, rather than, say, rhetoric, to actively and deliberately hurt groups of the least powerful people (women) who have done nothing wrong.
These instances, and common ones at that, are abuses of a gift. And it is shocking to me that when the powerful (men) are fortunate enough to have access to a gift, the first and central things they want to do with that gift is to destroy people (women) who have no desire to harm them.
Please think, men. You abuse the gifts you have, and in that way, you hurt ALL of society in many ways you probably haven’t thought of.
Update on the Chinese Stalker
I just posted on my interaction with a young Chinese male potential stalker. I tried to talk him down for two reasons.
- First, and most important, I was concerned about the woman he was interested in stalking. If I can prevent harm to a specific woman or girl at the hands and dicks of men, I’ll do it. We are constantly in danger from both male strangers and especially the males we know. Men act, first and foremost, for selfish reasons, and if a woman is destroyed in the process of a man getting what he wants, nobody gives even half a shit. I give a shit. I give the mother lode of shits.
- Second, if I can shape the thinking of a single man, I stand the chance of saving scores of women and girls from future harm. It’s along the lines of that old proverb: “Give a person a fish and she’ll eat for a day. Teach a person to fish and she’ll eat for a lifetime.” Big picture. Strategic thinking. Preventative medicine. All that.
Anyhow, I do keep in touch with many of my students through a Chinese-based chat program and I heard from young dude last night. There were some positive things said, but I am not clear about whether he still intends to stalk his ex-girlfriend. There was some ambiguity at the end. Here is the exchange:
Dude: Today you said that happiness comes from our inside heart. And I half agree with that as I believe that our beloved ones are the source of half our happiness. Sometimes we still have to lay half of our happiness on the outside world like our beloved ones
Me: It is important for each of us to decide what it is that makes us happy. And then to set out to achieve it.
Dude: Thank you for teaching me that “if one side wants it, but the other side doesn’t want it, then the relationship cannot happen.” It gave me courage. And I have finally decided to let go of my ex-love.
Me: That is difficult, but good news. It is hard to see things when you are feeling pain. But with time, you’ll see that something better will happen for you. You are making a good, strong decision by letting go.
Dude: If possible, I still hope I could have a chance of reunion with her.
Me: That may just be a dream. But I would suggest letting it go. When a woman says no, she must be respected.
Dude: Thanks
—
Argh!!! I was feeling positive about him letting her go until I read his last statement. “if possible” “I still hope”.
Fuck! Let her go man!
Well, I tried.
Conversations with Men: Talking Down a Wannabe Stalker
In China, stalking of women by men is a standard and highly accepted part of the romantic narrative.
I’ve (unfortunately) been privy to countless examples of this. The wearing down and terrorizing of a woman by a man in order to ‘prove’ he loves her is more common than you might realize.
I can still remember back to 2003 and acquiring my first data point. A Western (male dickface) colleague chuckling over having his adult ESL class interrupted by a petulant Chinese man who had been harassing and stalking a female classmate with whom he was in love. He interrupted the class to throw a tantrum since the woman had not yet submitted to his displays of (immaturity, misogyny, entitlement) love. I was disgusted by the whole thing – had it been my class, heads would have rolled.
And over time, I’ve heard more and more stories. Sometimes from the lovelorn themselves looking for advice on why their stalking behaviour was not working as planned. I think most of the time it works. The poor young woman is beaten down through relentless unwanted attention and forced to give in. Yeah! A boyfriend! How long can one be terrorized and remain sane in a place where stalking and violence against women isn’t taken seriously?
And so today, it happened yet again.
I had parked myself in a huge mostly empty classroom reading Andrea Dworkin of all things, waiting until it was time to make my way to my own classroom in another building. I suddenly became aware of someone sitting beside me, but across the aisle. It struck me as strange as the classroom seated about 200 and I was one of maybe 4 people in the room.
I realized it was someone who wanted to talk to me.
Okay, what the hell. I was tired and having trouble focusing on reading. It turned out I had met the student before about 6 months previously. I could barely remember, to be honest. There are 45,000 students at my university. Luckily, it was a business English major, so he had better English, and thus was able to have a higher level conversation with me. And we talked about a variety of things which were actually interesting to me.
But one of the topics we covered was how he could ‘persuade’ his ex-girlfriend who had broken up with him that she should take him back.
I tried to tie my answer to one of his previous questions, “How can we be happy?” I could have said, “Overthrow Patriarchy,” but most dudes don’t have the capacity or intelligence to begin to comprehend what that means. But, to be honest, I haven’t a fucking clue how to be happy. I think we obsess about it too much, and spend too much time trying to find and force happiness, which, in my opinion, is the surest way to be thoroughly unhappy.
So instead, I delved into the idea that trying to get, take, or receive things is not the way to be happy. But that is what most people (especially men) try to do. We try to get a partner in love, we try to acquire money and possessions, and we want people to give us their loyalty, love or respect. None of that really works. What I suggested is that he stop focusing on taking or getting or expecting, and just try to give. I said that happiness comes from inside ourselves and when we give without expecting something in return, we are more likely to feel happy and free.
And I waited for it… He jumped in with: “But I want to give love to my ex-girlfriend.” And I countered with: a) Don’t give people what they don’t want or need. If the girlfriend broke up with you, she doesn’t want your ‘love’ (I suspect he wasn’t giving love, but rather, control and unreasonable demands). And b) you can’t give something and then secretly expect something in return. You’ll never be happy if your motivation for giving is ultimately selfish.
That gave him some stuff to mull over. I am not sure if it will sink in. Most guys can’t comprehend the notion of selflessness or understanding others’ (especially women’s) needs and wishes. But he seemed to think about what I said.
And then again, I might be completely full of shit about all of this happiness nonsense. But I hope I at least put a damper on his stalking potential. I am pretty sure that is where his obsessive thoughts were taking him. I’ve seen this a million times before.
Not Afraid of the Bears
I hate the city.
Sure, there are moments. Moments when you realize that there are certain things only a city can offer you. Like you’re tired of the ubiquitous Chinese food where you live and tired of your own home cooking, and crave some semi-authentic food from another part of the globe. A large city can provide you with that. You are also more likely to find open-minded people who like to use their brains and who eschew traditionalism and religion. That is harder to find in smaller places.
But I still hate the city.
I grew up in Canada. I have lived in most of the largest cities there. Having lived in large Chinese cities, and spent time in Los Angeles, New York, Tokyo, and London, these ‘tiny’ Canadian cities are villages in comparison.
I’ve also lived in plenty of smaller places. I deliberately chose a small, relatively isolated, Canadian town for my undergraduate experience. It was mostly for research opportunities and to get the hell away from my abusive, NPD mother, but I have to admit that the kilometers of forest, lakes, and fresh air called to me.
Similarly, when I went to grad school in the US, I chose a very small town – still for the research opportunities – but there were mountains and forest in close proximity.
I’ve also lived in the Yukon in Canada’s North. Pristine rivers, lakes, forests. Pure air. Silence. Anti-intellectual and cliquey, but nature reigns supreme there.
In all of these places, hiking and other outdoor activities were a given – one of the perks of living there. But I didn’t take advantage of the locations as much as I could or should have. Afraid of bears or other wild animals? No, actually. There are plenty of things you can do to co-exist with animals that, for the most part, aren’t deliberately looking for you.
In all these places, I was afraid of the men. The existence of men, and the threat of attack or rape is what kept me out of the forests and hiking by myself. Men are the only animals that will deliberately hunt you down or opportunistically target you, and hurt you for pleasure.
I remember, as an undergraduate, one day enthusiastically heading off onto the hiking trails in the forest behind the college. There had been reports of bears, especially at that time of year. But my thoughts weren’t on them at all. Within minutes of starting my hike, I was plagued with doubts about being in the forest alone, and then, as if reading my mind, out of nowhere, men on mountain bikes took over my trail. Scared the shit out of me. Men, in a group – scariest thing on the planet. A panic attack resulting from knowing that they could do whatever they wanted to me with impunity turned me around towards the safety of my research lab.
At that time, I forgot that there is no safety indoors either. Like all women, while I’ve experienced a lot of harassment, violence and sexual assault in public, all of the violent rapes I’ve experienced have happened in my own bed at home or indoors while travelling. This is women’s experience, women’s reality.
Will there ever come a day when a woman can leave her home and not have to feel afraid? Will there ever come a day when a woman can stay in her home and not have to feel afraid? Just the threat of what can happen is unacceptable. The threats are based on reality and they have power. They do.
It’s not the bears we have to worry about.
Heroes and the Penis Prerequisite
A handful of years ago, I was teaching a small class of really motivated, super-smart Chinese girls. I’d just spent a hellish year teaching high school – one of the worst years, if not the worst year, of employment in my life – in the Chinese countryside. I tried to wash away that year in a seaside city at a small, private language school with small summer classes. This group of young women was a salve on a wound that unfortunately still hasn’t healed.
We were doing a short unit on heroes and role models. We were using a crappy textbook produced through some Western-Chinese collaboration, and I hated it. It was sexist and as with any and every book trying to teach Western culture to non-Westerners, it did a piss poor job. Anyhow, as I didn’t like the discussion of heroes in the book, I decided give my own rendition. You see, all the book’s examples were men – men of the Western persuasion – and not a one of them was interesting or heroic. But then, throughout the world, we celebrate men for mediocrity and often, overlook atrocities they commit to celebrate that mediocrity.
So I did some research and looked for women in China, current and past, in a range of domains, that could be put up for nomination as heroes. I chose human rights activists, political leaders, anti-censorship advocates, athletes, actors, even a warrior.
And the girls, smart though they were, only recognized a few of them. I was first shocked, then unsurprised, then saddened. Just like in the West, women are not only barred from public life, but they are barred from recognition, from history, from memory, despite being the ones who actually keep this world running. Throughout the world, we celebrate the mediocrity of men over even the most amazing of women.
Fast forward a little to the years I’ve been teaching college and post-graduate students. Every semester, either through speech-giving assignments or through class discussion, I get students to talk about role models and heroes. And here are my data.
Out of hundreds and hundreds of students in four years of doing this, only two students have provided a woman as a role model or hero. And those women were the students’ mothers.
Many of the male heroes have been killers/soldiers. We’ve had notorious Western rapist athletes nominated. Mao Ze Dong, the great brainwasher and killer of millions. Winston Churchill, the man who perfected the concentration camp and had thousands of South African women and children starved, raped, or killed. We’ve had a few capitalists. Writers. Lots of fathers. Male humanitarians or social justice warriors are never mentioned as heroes – there aren’t that many of those comparatively, I suppose. Plus, activism is still frowned upon and frequently punished in China.
In China or elsewhere, I can’t figure out what makes these nominees heroes or role models other than possessing a penis. It’s not just that women have been barred from doing ‘great’ things. The fact that so many people see fathers as heroes or role models indicates that it is the penis and the qualities that only a penis-wielder is (incorrectly) believed to possess that are important in defining heroism or role-modelship. It has little to do with the accomplishments themselves. If we had a scale with men on one side and women on the other, and we had the ability to see who actually did what (i.e., we could see through stolen ideas, credit-taking, silencing, etc.) and you added weight for objectively positive accomplishments (creating and improving life and knowledge), and subtracted for objectively negative, destructive things (war, cruelty, immorality, development of weapons, greed, etc), women would, hands down, be the greatest contributors, the heroes, the role models. I truly wish there were a way to uncover truth, to reward merit, to encourage positive contribution.
We can’t do that under male rule. Merit will never be recognized under Patriarchy.
Fists and penises used to win the power, (later) the money and the ability to write history. Once money and power were firmly in the hands of men, it became just the threat of violence that has continued to erase women and keep the definition of heroism out of more objective hands.
In short, whom we honour and reward in our global society has little to do with good works or positive accomplishments or contributions. As with everything, it is all about dick. And I’m so very tired of worshipping violence and lies.
A Whole Lotta Beauty and Nothing Else
I teach a few different things in China. My least favourite course is ‘advanced oral English’. First, there is nothing advanced about the abilities of the majority of students – ‘advanced’ is just a word that, in typical Chinese fashion, is for appearances only . And second, I am not an orator. Decent teacher, yes. Orator extraordinaire, no. Oh, and third, trying to have a heavily interactive class when the standard number of students in a small, participation-based university class is 50 is a waste of everyone’s time.
If I must teach communication methodologies, I prefer to teach writing. But if I had my druthers, I’d be teaching a variety of other things within the analytical realm.
Anyhow, I’m in the middle of two weeks of the dreaded speech-making unit. This is where I give a choice of topics (ranging from easy to requiring more insight and imagination). One of the topics requires these 18- to 23-year-olds to think about what they want their lives to look like in 20 years.
If they choose this topic, inevitably, they talk about the family they want. If you can believe it is possible, the Chinese romantic narrative is even more boring and standard than the Western one. Everybody says almost exactly the same thing. I have never, ever, ever met anyone here who wants something different than the rest of the 1.35 billion people.
While it is depressing to hear the young women spout the romantic dream that is the curtain that hides their impending slavery, it is worse listening to the men. And sadly, most of my students are men. Even though I spend an entire class talking about how to describe personality or character, and get them to brainstorm adjectives, they ALL describe their future wives in exactly the same two-dimensional way, and unsurprisingly, there is never a reference to character unless it is to imply that she exists to wait on him and provide children, which is still not really ‘personality’. They describe Future Wife as ‘beautiful’ and that is it. She has no substance. The only thing that matters is that she is beautiful. One of the better speakers did say: “I don’t like girls with strong opinions.” So there you go.
Interestingly, when I teach the class on character and do the brainstorming exercise, most of the students include beautiful, pretty, or cute on their lists, and I do the requisite explanation that physical attractiveness is not a personality characteristic. And although you could, in English, call someone beautiful and refer to their personality, that is not at all what people are thinking here when they put it on their list of personality traits.
When describing men, there is a much richer palette. Men are allowed to be intelligent, talented, creative, hardworking, diligent, responsible, etc. Oh, to be multifaceted – dare I dream?
If you do manage to get people to describe women in any detail, you get a more intense and benevolently misogynist list than you get in the West – today’s Western woman might be called strong, but what is meant is that she is a sexual being with all that entails regarding character (wild, masochistic, uninhibited, slutty, etc). It’s just as superficial, in my opinion. In China, it is all naiveté, innocence, and purity – these are all ideal ‘girl’ qualities. The ideal woman is ‘a girl’ – she acts like, looks like, and thinks like ‘a girl’. It’s so ingrained in the culture – even trying to get people to refer to females over 18 as women is really hard to do. They have no problem calling 18-year-old males ‘men’, though.
I decided I have to stop assigning this topic for speeches. As my educational techniques regarding women and personality and human status are clearly not working, I am now going to give my barf trigger mechanism priority.
In another post, I’ll tell you about a) Chinese misogyny in hero/role model discussions and b) how my writing classes approached their assignment on short fiction.
That’s Some Arsenal You’ve Got There, Gentlemen
Part one: That’s Some Toolbox You’ve Got There, Ladies.
In the previous post linked to above, I talked about several of the tools and techniques women have at the ready in order to survive as slaves in a patriarchal system. These are the mechanisms that lead women to:
- accept abuse, rape, heaps of discrimination without complaint;
- seek out and stay in romantic relationships with men where anything can and does happen (keep in mind that no relationship between men and women is equal);
- comply and perpetuate Patriarchy by attacking potential allies (non-compliant women/feminists) and indoctrinating children in the ways of gender; and
- fail to notice the millions and millions of daily messages, large and small, direct and indirect, aimed at women to let them know that they are members of the sex class, meant to serve men, and undeserving of freedom or respect.
That post was about defense. This one is about offense. I want to talk about the tools and mechanisms – or weapons – men have in their arsenals to reinforce their supremacy by keeping women in line. Note that ALL men are given starter arsenals as boys, and most grow up to add more vicious and effective weapons as they get older – even the liberal, so-called ‘Nice Guys’.
I’m not going to talk about physical weapons like guns or knives or physical violence like rape or beatings or BDSM torture. These are obvious. Instead, like in the previous post, I’m going to talk about psychological warfare and what men do to mindfuck ‘loved’ ones, acquaintances, and strangers.
In case, you’re prepared to jump in with a standard, knee-jerk “But women do it tooooooo!” whinge-fest, please note that a) this post is not about individual women attacking individual men as DOES happen, but is not a systematic problem, and b) this post is about class warfare – by men as a class against women as a class. There has never been a war waged by women against men. If so, there’d be millions of dead and maimed men out there. As it stands, the only ones killing men in any number are MEN. So zip it and read on!
Offense Mechanisms
Note that some of the defense mechanisms talked about the the previous post can be used by men as attack mechanisms. Projection, for instance, can work the following way in the hands of a man on the attack. As a rule, men have a socialized, underlying hatred of women. Many men will project their hatred of women onto the women themselves claiming that women actually are the ones who hate men. This is the current chant of the MRAs (morons’ rights activists), and is why terms like ‘feminazi’ and ‘man-hating, lesbo feminist’ exist without evidence for them. Men’s hatred is turned into women’s hatred to make men feel justified in issuing rape threats, actual rape, beatings, and psychological warfare.
Gaslighting
This is a form of denial, but it is denial used to attack or manipulate. By refusing to admit that something is true, often repeatedly, the attacker causes their victim to begin to question their perceptions and lose confidence. The more off-balance a victim is, the more likely she is to remain in thrall to an abuser. The victim is increasingly likely to overlook often outrageously bad behavior, especially if they are in a relationship.
Example: On an individual level, imagine a newbie to the BDSM scene. She feels like what she is experiencing is abuse, but her dominant repeatedly says it didn’t happen or reframes her experience as something entirely different – submitting isn’t abuse, it is freedom, it is love. It is actually she who has the power. He invalidates her perceptions and she comes to doubt herself. She becomes primed for a deep commitment to submissive status.
We also see this in the low incidence of rape reporting – we can apply gaslighting to women as a group. Women are almost never believed when they dare to speak out about being raped. As a result, women as a class, often doubt their own experiences of rape and don’t bother to speak out. Women are not believed, so most women believe their experiences aren’t real.
Infantilizing
I’ve devoted a post to this topic, so I’ll keep it brief here. Infantilizing is the treating of woman as if she were a child or as less capable or intelligent than she actually is. You can also infantilize girls by treating them like younger children and over-protecting and denying confidence and agency. Infantilizing goes really well with gaslighting. Imagine being treated like an idiot over and over, and then if you dare to complain, you’re told that you’re imagining things or are oversensitive. You eventually come to believe that how you’re being treated is perfectly normal and you become an ineffective and relatively useless adult with no confidence and always second-guessing yourself.
Pathologizing
It is common for those who don’t conform to mainstream expectations to be pathologized. If someone doesn’t meet expectations, there must be something wrong with her. She needs to be fixed, medicated, given therapy, subjected to surgery, controlled and brought to heel.
Example: The current craze in pathologizing is, of course, centred on sexuality. These days, women need to be ready for sex and thrilled about it 24/7. Of course, sexuality and sex are still defined by men for men, so the perfectly reasonable avoidance or lack of desire on the part of women to engage in something that will not benefit them in any way (and is actually dangerous in many ways) becomes ‘a problem’. Instead of seeing and accepting it for what it actually is – a normal response to sexual slavery and erasure – women are labelled ‘frigid’ or ‘depressed’ or something that indicates that they aren’t fulfilling the expected role. Out come the drugs, sex therapy, psychological abuse, demands for polyamory, and porn.
Shaming and Guilting
Very simply, the act of inspiring feelings of guilt or shame in someone to get them to do something they don’t want to do or to back down on requests for fair treatment.
Example: Men love to push women to the edge and over it in relationships, and inspiring shame or guilt – some of the first powerful feelings young girls experience in all cultures – is a very effective way for men to get what they want. Men often play the victim. Their lives are so hard, and according to them, women make their lives even harder with their nagging and unreasonable demands for respect or consideration. It is these techniques of shaming and guilting that inspire the following: “If you loved me, you would…” and the demands almost always entail some demeaning, degrading, brutalizing, unfair sexual performance or concessions on the part of the woman.
Shaming and guilting (in addition to spreading lies and misinformation) are the key tools in the Pro-Choice movement’s assault against women who need abortions.
One-Upping
A tool used to silence another person by claiming greater victimhood status.
Example: This has recently become a very effective tool in our modern age of oppression status. Everybody is being oppressed. It is a common tool used by men of colour against white women who rebuke their rape or harassment attempts. These men will scream ‘racism!’ or society will do it for them if the rape attempt becomes public knowledge. It is one reason I didn’t report being violently raped by my Arab Muslim boyfriend 8 years ago. ‘Islamophobia’ is a buzzword right now, and current Liberals can get enthusiastically on board with the idea that a white woman is using her poorly suppressed Islamophobia/racism to make a false rape claim but have an incredibly hard time believing that a man has raped a woman.
Some of these men know exactly that is what will happen when they scream racism – it is a joke and a get out of jail free card since racism is taken seriously, but misogyny and violence against women are not. For others, they truly believe they are being oppressed when a woman refuses or fights against their violence. Men of all colours (and SES, religions, etc.) are taught from birth that they are entitled to pussy any time they want it.
Others argue that this is also what is happening with some of the male-to-female trans community trying to silence women by one-upping them on the oppression scale. By using male tactics of aggression and claiming status as ‘women’, actual women are forced into silence. Again, some of these folks know exactly what they are doing, while others may wear oppression as clothing and truly believe everyone is hurting them personally.
The most egregious examples of one-upping occur when a white dude with no true difficulties in life claims victimhood status that is more important than a woman – any woman. This happens CONSTANTLY (see MRAs, for example).
I truly can’t count the number of men – white and non-white – who have silenced me by shouting me down with examples of how they perceive themselves to be the most unfortunate victims on the planet. It has been especially effective when coupled with guilting.
Hope / Manipulated Forgiveness
Hope, is probably one of the most powerful forces out there. Giving someone the impression that things will get better can erase the effects and memories of an incredible amount of abuse.
Example: The most common scenario is that of the battered spouse/girlfriend. Despite the well-known mantra of psychologists and statisticians that past behaviour is the best predictor of future behaviour, the battering male will erase this idea by promising that he will change. And he seems to… until the next time he beats and rapes his wife/girlfriend. It helps that women are programmed from childhood to forgive.
Bestowing the Backhanded Compliment of ‘Otherness’
I have an entire post devoted to the concept of ‘other’, and there is a section on how men psychologically manipulate women into enabling them and accepting misogynistic abuse through a sort of backhanded flattery: they are not like all the other girls. Women can feel special and ‘loved’, but eventually may come to realize that this status can change immediately if they dare to question the flatterer.
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There are many more psychological attack devices that men use against women to keep their system of dominance firmly in place. This is just a taste.
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That’s Some Toolbox You’ve Got There, Ladies
Those familiar with the self help world will know immediately what I’m talking about when I refer to one’s ‘toolbox’. It is a metaphorical toolbox that contains a variety of tools and techniques that one can use to cope and protect oneself. To run with the metaphor, basically the contents of one’s toolbox will allow the building of a fort or wall behind which one can stay alive and survive. The better the tools and techniques, the more protected one is.
The Defense
Protection from what, you might ask? From seeing, questioning, defying, attacking and breaking free from Patriarchy, of course. To face Patriarchy head on is a very dangerous business, so women are encouraged to accept it. Unfortunately, it is hard to accept slavery without some defensive strategies in place.
Girls are provided at a very young age with a starter toolbox and examples of how to employ the contents within. The message that accompanies this gift is: Sorry. You’ve had the misfortune to be born a girl. This means you are worthless. But we need you to do a few things. You’re here to serve, submit, take abuse, and erase yourself. All in the service of Patriarchy and its prize citizens – boys and men. In order to help you accept it, affirm male dominance and violence, sing the praises of this system, and even ask for it, we are equipping you with the following tools and techniques. Now spread your legs and enjoy the ride. It will suck. Or rather, you will.
With this bright and shiny toolbox (with more sophisticated tools added over time), many women remain blind to their maltreatment and complicit in their enslavement; men are not forced to take responsibility for their actions and keep on doing what they do best – destroying; and the Patriarchy machine bangs on. Anyone with a background in psychology will recognize many of these tools as ‘defense mechanisms’. Let’s look at how they are employed by women under Patriarchy to ensure that they remain the slaves they were born to be.
Tools and Techniques (aka Defense Mechanisms)
Denial
The most unsophisticated of tools, denial is probably the most frequently employed mechanism women have. Very simply, it is the refusal to accept reality, even in the face of bald facts. Women may even deny having experienced something quite serious.
Example: A woman returns home after being raped by her date. Despite her bruises at the time and years of nightmares and PTSD, she refuses to admit she has been raped. In her mind, it is safer to pretend it didn’t happen. A lot of women also deny that Patriarchy even exists despite soaking and swimming in it every second of their lives.
Repression / Suppression
Both mechanisms serve to keep thoughts or memories out of consciousness. It can be done without realizing it (repression) or deliberately (suppression). The problem is that the memories still have influence even if we don’t realize they are there.
Example: A woman who was molested by her father as a child may have blocked out memories of that time, but ‘inexplicably’ has a hard time in relationships with men, especially regarding sex. She will be labelled frigid, but really, she is just repressing memories of horrific abuse.
Displacement
Anger and frustration are taken out on less threatening objects or people than the actual source of these feelings.
Example: A woman works in a male dominated office under a highly misogynist boss who pays her less than the men, never promotes her, disparages her ideas and work, and makes sexually suggestive comments. The woman says and does nothing so as to keep her badly needed job, but goes home and verbally abuses her children following particularly tense episodes. We also see this commonly with the transgendered and with women who belong to other minority groups when they attack other women instead of men who are the true oppressors. Women are just less threatening and more easily attacked.
Sublimation
A technique where unacceptable behaviour is refocused into something acceptable.
Example: An economically desperate women may find herself with few options but to turn to prostitution, but faced with shame or other morally-derived feelings, may grasp at marriage (publicly acceptable prostitution) to survive.
Dissociation
The creation of seemingly separate representations of the self in order to survive ordeals. It can lead to a disconnection of self such that painful feelings don’t intrude for periods of time.
Example: Women who enter stripping or prostitution or even who are married may retract their feelings and personalities and thought processes while performing mandatory sexual servicing of customers or husbands. Outside of these servicing situations, they will maintain a different or a main identity.
Projection
The act of taking one’s unacceptable feelings towards someone and ascribing those feelings to them.
Example: Fully enslaved and compliant women may hate feminists for forcing them to realize their slavery. As a defense, the enslaved will believe that the feminists hate them, despite clear evidence to the contrary. This is the number one cause of the creation of the term ‘feminazi’. Feminists have absolutely NOTHING in common with nazis, but it is easier to project your hate onto people who just want to help you free yourself.
Rationalization
A mechanism that allows one to avoid the true reasons for a behaviour and instead come up with something that provides an intellectual or logical explanation.
Example: Instead of holding men accountable for rape culture, women will say things like ‘men are naturally aggressive’, ‘boys will be boys’, ‘men have needs’ or something thoroughly incorrect, but seemingly ‘rational’ on the surface. We also see arguments supporting the Patriarchal system using ‘God’s word’ (from the Right) and ‘natural law’ or evolutionary psychology (from the Left). These arguments are rationalizations.
Reaction Formation
Expressing the opposite feeling to that which you actually feel.
Example: Women, especially, are encouraged to show love to those who would do them harm rather than to address any justified anger that comes from being abused. It is a way to partially explain why battered women not only stick with men who routinely beat and rape them, but to insist that they love these men. The defense mechanism assists, but does not wholly explain, survival in a very complex, psychological situation.
Stockholm Syndrome (Identification)
This refers to supporting and even adopting the views and behaviours of someone who has power over you or is abusing you and whom you fear/hate.
Example: This is the mechanism underlying all “What about the men?” and “Not my Nigel” arguments put forth by heterosexual women. Instead of identifying with their oppressed sisters, they see weakness in and feel hatred towards them in much the same way the men they are supporting would. It also plays a heavy role in keeping submissive women in the BDSM scene enthralled (with a little rationalization thrown in for good measure).
Keep in mind, seldom does only one defense mechanism account for a woman’s participation in Patriarchy. The toolbox is one where all the implements can be inter-attached, and work together seamlessly. It is so incredibly hard for women to throw off the chains of slavery for this reason. There isn’t just one thing keeping women down – even if you stop denying reality, you may be engaging in other coping strategies. It also doesn’t help that few women have support in freeing themselves.
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Stay tuned for “That’s Some Arsenal You’ve Got There, Gentlemen“.
Death by a Thousand Cuts
I read a lot of feminist blogs. Most of them are ‘small’ blogs, by which I mean they don’t pull in the thousands or millions of hits per day that porn sites do. But, in my mind, they are significant and vital to my life. I’m pleased to say that the many blogs I read and/or follow are just a tiny fraction of all the ‘small’ feminist blogs out there. I believe that strength does indeed come in numbers, and I’d rather scores of small voices sending the same radical message than one or two well-followed voices singing a weak and confusing song.
Most of the blogs I read do a few things. First, they talk about ideas. They may do this through an essay on theory, theory in practice, the relevance of themes, commentary on political or social events, etc. The other thing these blogs may do from time to time is to talk about personal experience. The experience may be provided as an example of an idea, or it may just be the relation of a personal story that is of significance to the blogger. Whatever the motivation, I enjoy both. I like the former because better writers than me may help clarify my thinking on things or may put a different spin on something I believe, or may introduce me to something I’ve really not thought about before. I enjoy the latter because I see the human in the writer. I sometimes find I’m not alone in having experienced something. I find ways to put words to the horrors that are womanhood under Patriarchy.
One thing I’ve noticed is that most radical feminists have done things and still do things that are decidedly anti-feminist whether they be acts of femininity adoption or subjugating oneself in a multitude of ways in a heterosexual relationship in order to preserve it. And there can be a lot of shame and guilt in the knowledge that one has capitulated. Shame and guilt for being a woman and then shame and guilt for giving in to femininity mandates. And then there is shame and guilt for not giving in to femininity requirements and hurting a poor boy’s feelings. We often end up giving in by apologizing for our militancy. Can’t win.
I like it when feminists write about these thousand daily humiliations. Confession is good for (I don’t believe in the soul) our social and intellectual development. I think by writing about them, we become more mindful of how we survive. We can measure our awareness and progress. Self-analysis of how we think and how we compromise our beliefs (or hold true to them) is important to the evolution of a being and a feminist.
To all writers of ‘small’ feminist blogs who wonder why you keep writing – you matter. You matter to your own personal development, and you matter to your audience, no matter how large or small, who are looking for validation, inspiration and kindred spirits and a reason to go on and/or start their own confessional.










All Along the Watchtower
Dec 27
Posted by storyending
This post is part of the ongoing Birth of a Feminist series. Listen along to my recording on YouTube and/or read the article below ♀ ♥
I’ve called myself a feminist for a long time. I’ve had ‘crazy’, unspeakable-in-public, totally ‘offensive’ notions since I was quite young. But I’ve never been formally educated in feminism, I had no stable or lasting feminist role models in my life, nor did I seek out specifically feminist writing until not that long ago. And getting to where I am (and where I am still going) has been a process. I’ve made tons of mistakes with regard to men and how to frame my reality in a man-made world. I’ve had realizations that didn’t have complete impact until years later – when I was ready for their full force. This is all part of the development of a radical feminist that I’ve begun writing about in my Birth of a Feminist series.
About a year ago, I realized I was missing and needing something in my life. I was feeling lost, hurt, alone, lonely, chronically and mildly depressed, and unable to come up with at least a short-term plan or desire or motivation for the future (which is unusual for me – the survivor, the Plan/Strategy Queen). Without a lot of thinking about it, I found myself one day googling radical feminism, and a year later, I’m in deep. What had been missing was a philosophical system that spoke to me and how I work and that could help me pull everything together and make sense of the world. No other philosophy has ever done this for me. You see, they’ve all been male-orientated, and I’m not a fucking male. That initial internet search drove me directly to some of the most hard-core radical feminist blogs around (or archived). And I was home. I lamented that had I been able to find such intelligent, outspoken and honest women sooner, life would have looked quite a bit different. I think a lot of the misery could have been avoided. And I might not be stuck in China completely and utterly isolated from the kind of women (especially near’ish my age and older) I really need and want to be around. But better late than never?
Well, yes. Better late than never. Radical feminism saved my life. And that is not a unique sentiment. I’ve read it and heard it countless times by women who, one way or another, found themselves in RF’s comforting arms. Radical feminism gives you a framework in which to understand why you feel so damned angry, why you don’t fit in, and why the majority of people not only don’t understand you, but often react violently to you when you state your opinions and experiences.
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As you’re getting your footing among women who’ve been RFing for years, and finding out where you’ve gone right and wrong on your unaided journey prior to that, you encounter a lot of confusing stuff.
Calling yourself a rad-fem doesn’t mean you’re perfect. There is always room to grow. And that is a-okay. Growth comes from dialogue, sharing and learning from those more experienced than you and with different takes on similar situations. But more troubling – and this is where things can be confusing for those entering ‘the scene’ – are RFs who appear to hold all the basic tenets of rad-feminism to be true, but who will engage in behaviours that contradict the main objective. And I’ve noticed two confusing and thought-stopping behaviour camps present in online interaction. Both are actually common among liberal feminists, but I’ve seen purported and community-accepted rad-fems engage in them, as well.
The first one is well-documented: these are the ‘oppression olympians’. These folks are very concerned with making sure everyone understands all the ways in which they are disadvantaged. They often believe they are worse off than anyone else, and they will whip out the relevant oppression to thought-stop/silence any person they disagree with. It also serves as a derail technique. Many an excellent discussion has veered off track once an olympian shows up to remind everyone about how hurt she feels because of her special status. This kind of posing is antithetical to radical feminism as any RF worth her salt sees women as the primary focus of any RF discussion, movement, action, protest. Focusing on ‘intersection’ (and really, intersection can get so crazily defined that we all end up in groups of 1) is a divide and conquer technique that only serves to benefit men and take power and solidarity away from women as a class.
The second group I call the Watchtower snipers. These are most often women who instead of identifying first and most importantly as women – an oppressed class and the very subjects of radical feminism – take whatever privileged group membership(s) they have very, very seriously as a badge of shame. So seriously, in fact, that they will negate their own valid, horrible experiences because they are not as oppressive or legitimate as any other more oppressed woman’s. They also become hyper-vigilant for any sign of offense-giving in others, ‘shoot down’ anyone and everyone for these perceived offenses, and coddle olympians who show up to throw tantrums and to abuse perceived oppressors (their fellow women! ffs!). For some reason, these rad-fem watchtower snipers are also uniquely prone to neurotic grammar policing and will derail a thread by picking apart another woman’s comma or contraction usage. Weird. Snipers shoot wildly and indiscriminately to protect a perceived uber-victim. And sadly, it produces a similar result to olympianism by derailing, silencing and thought terminating.
The first blog I read from cover to cover, so to speak (which I won’t name here as I won’t shit on women who are, for the most part, doing important work and have my utmost respect for speaking dangerous thoughts and moderating comments), was brilliantly, brilliantly written by a woman with deliciously , what I call ‘out there‘ views. But to my great sadness, I found her to be a bit of a sniper, and allowed and supported olympians in her comments section, and wouldn’t tolerate trans-criticism. It really confused me as I quickly got up to speed on current feminist issues. She called herself a radical feminist, but failed on a few crucial points. Nevertheless, this blog was really, very important to me.
Women need to be able to criticize other women on important issues. Women are also allowed to feel and express their righteous anger. Nitpicking grammar (and I say this as an English instructor) is not a serious issue in feminism. Whether trans folk (men) should be allowed to take over the few safe spaces we have left is. And if comments are allowed on blogs, well of course, bloggers can have whatever policy they wish, but coddling trolls (who are probably very damaged women in need of real help/support – not anonymous blog discourse) and shooting supporters in the head doesn’t make for good female solidarity.
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