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Fell in Love With a Girl
Fell in love with a girl
I fell in love once and almost completely
She’s in love with the world
But sometimes these feelings can be so misleading
She turns and says, “Are you alright?”
I said, “I must be fine ’cause my heart’s still beating”The White Stripes
Once every couple of years, I fall in love with a girl, or I suppose woman is the better word. And perhaps love is not the best word to use because I don’t think I believe in love, much in the way that I don’t believe in happiness. I don’t believe in constant states. I believe in outliers and their undue influence – we tend to remember extremes and they colour our memories of the past and general impressions of the current state of things. More specifically, a few spectacularly great experiences are likely to make us overestimate how great life is, and conversely, a series of equally spectacularly horrible experiences is likely to darken our perception of our state of affairs. So, I’ve found it better to appreciate moments, positive or negative, for what they are, and in this way, I don’t have to pretend that things that don’t truly exist are real. (Guess why I could never be religious, even at an early age…?)
I’m meandering down some path I didn’t intend to, so let’s trot back to the trailhead. So yeah, every so often, I meet a woman that I ‘fall in love with’ briefly. I think I used to fall hard when I was younger, but as Jack White said above, “Sometimes these feelings can be so misleading.” And I learned. See, it’s never an available person that I fall for – and no, I don’t intentionally create these situations so that I have an excuse not to ‘commit’ to someone. It’s just that the women I tend to be attracted to seldom meet the crucial criteria for relationship-making.
First, they are almost always ‘straight’. Yeah, I put that in quotes. I don’t believe in heterosexuality for women. I remember watching Todo Sobre Mi Madre back in 1999, and one of the characters (I think one of the drag queens, actually, which sullies the sentiment and turns it into a bit of a joke, but whatever…) comments something to that extent – that all women have a bit of lesbian in them. And I would have completed the thought by saying that almost all women have the lesbian stamped and shamed out of them early in life. All this is to say that I’m attracted to women whose inborn lesbian shines like a beacon, despite the hetero life they are living and whatever their expressed feelings about lesbians are.
Another issue is age. I keep forgetting how old I am. I don’t live a life typical of a woman my age, my heart is young despite any wisdom gained from experience, and I seldom get to meet or spend time with my age group because of my lifestyle and mindset. So I either tend to meet women who are a lot older or a lot younger, and while I am fine with cross-generational friendship, I don’t think romantic relationships between people with large age gaps are appropriate. I don’t like power imbalances, and age can be a major source of imbalance and resulting creepiness. Not quite as bad between women as it is between men and women, I think, but still… I have principles and comfort levels that are derived from those principles.
The other major issue is values/beliefs. Even if I were to meet an age-appropriate lesbian, it would be hard to meet someone who puts women first, who is a female separatist, who isn’t in the mother-worship cult, who isn’t anti-white, and who sees the trans bullshit for what it is – an anti-woman, anti-lesbian, conservative, rape-apologist, male-energy-driven shit-show.
And finally, I’m looking for a companion, not someone who espouses straight thinking on what relationships should be (sex-driven: no sex = no relationship). That doesn’t mean an aphysical relationship – physical affection is great from my point of view. I think not wanting to touch or be touched is a sign of some very serious trauma. But I’m not looking for a fuck-buddy. I think I’ve had enough of that in my life, and it didn’t provide or solve much for me. Bottom line is it’s hard to imagine meeting a woman like myself ideologically who also wants a companion.
All of this is to say that I’ve fallen in love again, and it is another go-nowhere situation, sadly. I’ve found myself in a difficult (workwise), but otherwise socially interesting situation. I’m working in a girls’ school (one of the reasons I jumped at the job offer – I really hate teaching boys…), and almost all of the teaching staff and most of the administration are female. And it is culturally quite different from my native homeland and China, where lived for so long. In North America, females are physically rather cold to one another. It varies greatly, but generally, as a culture, there is a huge anti-lesbian sentiment, and that drives the stigma against excessive physical contact between women. China is much worse in some ways. While girls and women can hold hands if they are family or close friends, it is not a physically affectionate culture, generally speaking. They don’t hug, and they certainly don’t kiss in an affectionate way like many other cultures. I actually like physical affection. I’m touchy, although I’ve learned to be hyper-aware of modern Western hypersensitivity, so I’ve probably become more reserved over the years.
Where I currently live and work (it’s the same thing, currently…), physical affection abounds. It is refreshing – I feel like I’ve had to bottle myself up for so many years, in the uptight places I’ve found myself. But it is very multicultural here, AND it is also extremely sex-segregated. The few males that work at my school have separate rooms for working and eating, which is Awesome with a capital A, and likely due to Muslim values in this area. It’s funny to think that I agree with this very traditional way of thinking, and we might actually agree with the reasoning for the segregation on some levels, but at the same time, I would probably be fired if they found out I wasn’t straight and that I think that women are superior to men in all ways, and that all males should be microchipped at birth… Now, I can’t speak for how things work with the men at my workplace, but among the women, I’d say that the female affection mostly comes from the local people and what appears to be strong Turkish influence. I don’t get the impression that the locals of Russian heritage are driving it – they seem to be cold in the way that North Americans generally are, but I’ll admit that I know little about Russian culture, in general. It just seems cold to me and reminiscent of home.
Of all the people with whom I work – and as I said, we are rather multicultural – the Turkish women are my favourites. They are exuberant, kind, welcoming and confident. And as you may have guessed, I’ve fallen for one of them. She is closer to my age, and while not what I’d call beautiful in a traditional way, walks with a confidence and energy that is just sexy and I just want to be around it and her. And we click. She has a sense of humour, and I think she likes the weirdo in me (the comfortably conservative of the women at my workplace, on the other hand, are comfortably uncomfortable with my energy – nothing unexpected or new there). I really wish I could spend time with this lovely woman, but she is married with children. Just my luck. I’ll just have to appreciate the moment while it lasts and for what it is.
Perhaps my next job should be in Turkey…
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Ads and Rape Culture: Only One Message Comes Through
It seems like a year ago now that I was abroad, especially as I look at some of the photos I took whilst away. Some of the photos, I wanted to put on my blog, and others are just for me to remember specific things and are for my eyes only.
I’m going to file the one featured in this post under my White Girl series and include it in my growing collection of ‘Whores: How the Chinese See White Women‘ photos/advertisements.
On my way back to China, I had an overnight layover at the Taipei airport. I spent hours wandering the place – most airports are kinda weird at night, and you can notice things you might not see when things are crazy and populated during the daytime. I’ve being in some shitty airports, and I’ve been in some state-of-the-art airports, and I’ve noticed something. The more modern the airport, the more apparent it is that they are male-dominated, capitalist strongholds that sell rape, and (mostly white) female objectification and subordination to the men of the world, and that convince the women of the world that it is sexy, required, and therefore ridiculous to complain about or oppose. And this is done very, very easily through advertisements. Pictures of vulnerable, pornified women draped over or adorned with crap that no one needs.
And most of the time, the ads are of pornified white women and girls. It is not a mark of privilege to be the most rapable, the most objectified. To be seen as cunt on legs is nothing to aspire to or envy. Sorry, ladies of colour. This is not privilege. And it is not what we freely choose, no matter what a handful of really loud fun-feminist cockpuppets tell you. When they open their mouths, you can actually see the head of a penis directing the show and talking away about its needs. Real feminists want ALL women to be completely free from being used in this way and to figure out what their place in the world is while free of male demands for penis worship.
Anyhow, while walking the miles of corridor in the Taipei airport, I ran across tons of pornified, two-dimensional white women and the products on which [rich men of all colours decided] their tits and pussies put the stamp of approval. And you know what? I often couldn’t figure out what product was being sold. The only thing that I knew for sure was for sale was the white girls and women themselves. I used to wonder if men were that fucking stupid to fall for this. I was disbelieving in my youth. We women always want to believe in the best in people, especially men and especially after they abuse us. But with age and more experience than I wish I had, I have come to know for sure that, frighteningly, yes, men are that dumb. Super dumb. And coupling lack of intelligence with entitlement and willful ignorance, they sink to unfathomable depths of violence and depravity, reducing females to things. So the advertisements are of things (women) selling things (products). All to make men (rapists) feel like men (rapists) who want and own shit – shit being both the women themselves and the stuff they are advertising. And of course, all to make women feel inadequate and distract them from pursuing more important things (careers, skills, independence, self-confidence) than becoming temporarily desired (hated) objects.
The most disturbing advertisement I saw that night was selling white pedophelia. It was a larger than life poster of a vulnerable-looking, white girl-child with almost-exposed, barely-formed breasts. As you can see below, she looks like she has been violated – that haunted, ‘is rape all I can expect from life?’ look – and is just realizing that she is just a fuckhole. I think she might be selling a watch (?), but really, it is just White Girl Tits and Pussy™ that are being sold.
She *might* be 18, but she looks about 12. And that is the point.
It seems like a year ago now that I was abroad, especially as I look at some of the photos I took whilst away. Some of the photos, I wanted to put on my blog, and others are just for me to remember specific things and are for my eyes only.
I’m going to file the one featured in this post under my White Girl series and include it in my growing collection of ‘Whores: How the Chinese See White Women‘ photos/advertisements.
On my way back to China, I had an overnight layover at the Taipei airport. I spent hours wandering the place – most airports are kinda weird at night, and you can notice things you might not see when things are crazy and populated during the daytime. I’ve being in some shitty airports, and I’ve been in some state-of-the-art airports, and I’ve noticed something. The more modern the airport, the more apparent it is that they are male-dominated, capitalist strongholds that sell rape, and (mostly white) female objectification and subordination to the men of the world, and that convince the women of the world that it is sexy, required, and therefore ridiculous to complain about or oppose. And this is done very, very easily through advertisements. Pictures of vulnerable, pornified women draped over or adorned with crap that no one needs.
And most of the time, the ads are of pornified white women and girls. It is not a mark of privilege to be the most rapable, the most objectified. To be seen as cunt on legs is nothing to aspire to or envy. Sorry, ladies of colour. This is not privilege. And it is not what we freely choose, no matter what a handful of really loud fun-feminist cockpuppets tell you. When they open their mouths, you can actually see the head of a penis directing the show and talking away about its needs. Real feminists want ALL women to be completely free from being used in this way and to figure out what their place in the world is while free of male demands for penis worship.
Anyhow, while walking the miles of corridor in the Taipei airport, I ran across tons of pornified, two-dimensional white women and the products on which [rich men of all colours decided] their tits and pussies put the stamp of approval. And you know what? I often couldn’t figure out what product was being sold. The only thing that I knew for sure was for sale was the white girls and women themselves. I used to wonder if men were that fucking stupid to fall for this. I was disbelieving in my youth. We women always want to believe in the best in people, especially men and especially after they abuse us. But with age and more experience than I wish I had, I have come to know for sure that, frighteningly, yes, men are that dumb. Super dumb. And coupling lack of intelligence with entitlement and willful ignorance, they sink to unfathomable depths of violence and depravity, reducing females to things. So the advertisements are of things (women) selling things (products). All to make men (rapists) feel like men (rapists) who want and own shit – shit being both the women themselves and the stuff they are advertising. And of course, all to make women feel inadequate and distract them from pursuing more important things (careers, skills, independence, self-confidence) than becoming temporarily desired (hated) objects.
The most disturbing advertisement I saw that night was selling white pedophelia. It was a larger than life poster of a vulnerable-looking, white girl-child with almost-exposed, barely-formed breasts. As you can see below, she looks like she has been violated – that haunted, ‘is rape all I can expect from life?’ look – and is just realizing that she is just a fuckhole. I think she might be selling a watch (?), but really, it is just White Girl Tits and Pussy™ that are being sold.
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Conversations with Men: The Cambodian
In my last ‘conversations with men’ post about the rape holiday, I mentioned that I would pull another experience from my Cambodian visit. In the former, I was an observer. In this story, I was an object.
Women are constantly divided and divided again. It is a male strategy to prevent women from joining against them in solidarity to fight back in a serious way. But scores of women get on board for a variety of reasons in order to show their sisters that the dissimilarities and points of disagreement are much more important than their common experiences and needs.
Despite being the violent and sadistic sex, there is a great deal of evidence that men of different races, socioeconomic classes, religions, and political leanings are always quite able to come together – and even bond – over a single common cause: abusing, torturing, terrorizing and destroying women and girls. It is a pity that women cannot come together over the single common cause of liberating themselves from men, their violence, and their parasitic tendencies.
And it is with this thinking that I present a conversation from several years ago. Reviewing my two experiences well after the fact made me realize that despite the many differences between me and the young, female, Cambodian prostitute, we both shared the reality that we were objects. We were both seen by men, first and foremost, as bodies to be used.
~~~
Rewind to 2003: I was in the middle of a two-week trip by myself to Cambodia. It is very common for travellers, especially if you’re alone, to hire motorcycle guides in the larger areas. These drivers are often connected to guest houses, and you can hire them for single trips or pay a flat fee for a period time. While in Phnom Penh, I hired a driver who was able to speak some English (I don’t speak Khmer, and those few Cambodians who speak French are quite old now). I did a number of things, including seeing some of the historic sites, checking out one of the riverside, local clubs for some live music (no other foreigners there), and on one of the days, spending an afternoon by the water in the shade eating durian.
Through conversation, I was able to get an inside look into the life of a typical, low-earning, young man. And I also was reminded of my place as a woman.
At that point in my life, I sported very short hair, so I had to provide an answer as to why. Surprisingly, I wasn’t asked why I never wore skirts or dresses. After many more years living in China, I’ve come to expect and hate this whole line of questioning about hair, clothes, husbandlessness, childlessness. But at the time, I was still in my first year in Asia.
But then we moved on to other things.
Dude took on an air of sadness. He said he was too poor to get married. he had to share a room with several other guys. And he had to go to prostitutes.
Yeah, he lost me there. One thing I do hate about traditional cultures is the mandatory marriage thing and the idea that you need to have X amount of money in order to live up to expectations and procure a slave. But I don’t feel sorry for the MEN. I feel sorry for the women. Being sold into slavery – which is exactly what marriage was and still is – is not something I agree with or think is part of a healthy society. And in traditional cultures, if a woman can’t get married, there aren’t a lot of other options for her to support herself. Further, she becomes vulnerable to all men when she isn’t owned by one man. It’s a racket that men designed. Women are screwed no matter what happens. But married men benefit, so who gives a shit, eh?
But the marriage thing wasn’t where dude lost me. It was the ‘had to go to prostitutes’ comment. Men believe they must have sex. And they believe that if they can’t get it from their personal whore (wife/girlfriend/family member), then they must get if from a public whore. And then there is outright, payment-free rape of strangers, which I won’t get into in this post. The thing is, nobody has ever died from not having sex. And I say this as someone who, for much of my life, has had a demanding sex drive that no man (or woman, for that matter) I’ve known could match. Ever. And yet, despite almost never getting what I wanted – quality or quantity – and then eventually just ditching men altogether when I came to my senses about ‘how shit works’ in both the greater world and in my own world, I never felt I was entitled to sex. And I haven’t died from the lack. Presto magic. So take it from me, men don’t need sex.
And then the conversation got worse.
Dude got it in his head that he should have sex with me. The suggestion was put out there. He didn’t actually offer to pay me for sex. No. The idea was that I could continue to pay for his driving services as well as the food we were consuming, and he could have sex with me. It was almost as if he were offering himself up as a prostitute (although he didn’t ask for extra money), except for one very, very significant difference.
This difference lies in the sexes of the people in my last story versus this current story.
Women generally don’t offer themselves as prostitutes because they like sex or want random sex with strangers. Prostitutes are generally desperate, vulnerable women with a history of sexual, physical and psychological abuse. Both men and sex are dangerous to women, and men generally don’t cater (let alone acknowledge) women’s sexual needs. Don’t believe me? Well there is a shit ton of evidence on all. I don’t need to provide statistics. Spend five seconds on Google.
Men seldom offer themselves as prostitutes to WOMEN. To men, yes. That is more common and I don’t really care about that dynamic. When a man, like in my scenario, suggests sex to a woman, he is looking to get off. And in this case, especially, a) he didn’t suggest a monetary exchange, and b) in most cultures, especially traditional ones like Cambodia, men don’t service women – they use them. And if they give something, it is never without the expectation of something in return. So this dude wasn’t offering me anything. He was expecting something.
Of course, I said, “No.”
Everything about this exchange was repulsive. There was fear that he would attack me because I said no (luckily, that didn’t happen – HIV rates were at an all-time high in Cambodia at that time – and nobody wants to be raped anyways). I realized that none of my ‘privilege’ could erase the fact that I was still a woman and thus was under the thumb and at the whim of this guy and every single man on the planet regardless of their status among other men. I realized that because he, a man, brought up sex, no matter how this guy had framed it, he was insulting me: to offer me money would be to tell me I was a piece of meat, but to not offer me money told me that I wasn’t worth paying for and I should give it away like (they think) all ‘free’ Western white women do.
I went away from that conversation with another piece chipped off my tiny block of female self-confidence and then added to the growing pile of evidence of male yuck.
Conversations with Men: The Rape Holiday
It’s not that I’m shocked when I hear about the horrific things men do to women and girls every minute of every day in every corner of the world. Nothing anyone could tell me would surprise me in the least. It can be disturbing and traumatizing, of course, to read or hear about men’s depravity. But hearing about is different than witnessing, however. When you actually witness stuff, as a woman, that is when you are stunned – sometimes momentarily, sometimes negatively affected for long periods of time. It is only if you find yourself immune or indifferent to the stuff you see, or that you rationalize it away to protect the poor, persecuted, precious penises in your life, that you know you’ve lost too much of your humanity, and accepted your place as a slave.
When you make the mistake of assuming the best of strange men you encounter, that is when you end up with reminders that you are being naive. It is always best to err on the side of caution – all men are potential rapists. All men benefit from rape culture. Most men jerk off to rape (porn isn’t sex, it’s rape), and actively seek out depictions of rape. And all men are rape apologists. If they accept that rape exists, they see it as one of two things: 1) a very, very narrowly defined thing and anything that falls outside their very, very limited, accepted ideas can be waved away as lies! or just the way things are, sweetie, what’s your problem? or you’re paranoid/too sensitive/a manhater; or 2) a very, very broadly defined thing that ends up taking needed focus off of the crime of rape committed by men against women and putting the focus onto men as the main or most important or equally affected victims. Broad definitions of important words are men’s new tactic to erase women’s realities and put themselves in the spotlight, where they feel they belong.
Bottom line: rape is a crime perpetrated by men against women and girls. It comes out of male entitlement. It is done by more men than the world wants to admit. And all men benefit from it whether they directly rape or not.
~~~
Rewind to 2003: I was in the middle of a two-week trip by myself to Cambodia. I was working in Taiwan at the time. All of my Western male colleagues a) told me to be careful in Phnom Penh (which I ignored – I had a great time with locals there), and b) regaled me nostalgically with stories about their rape vacations – on which they strangely didn’t bring their Taiwanese girlfriends. It was gross. These entitled white fuckers thought it was the best deal ever to pay a couple of dollars to rape enslaved, impoverished teenaged girls. Many of these girls were victims of the Khmer Rouge regime and many young girls, having lost their entire families to rape, torture and death, had nowhere to go but into prostitution. Young boys were often taken in by monks and raised in monasteries. I met a few of the latter while visiting. They were quite well off and educated given the recent history of the country and their personal situations, and had a lot of freedom to pursue ambitions. The girls? Not so much.
For a few days, I travelled with an Australian postal worker who was in the middle of admitting to himself that he was gay. So we were talking about that a lot. And while in Sihanoukville, we went out for coming-out talk over a simple dinner at a very small local eatery with a few outdoor tables along the dirt road. I noticed a good-looking white dude sitting silently near, but not with, some local people running the shop beside us. It was kind of a strange scene. He wasn’t eating. Wasn’t drinking. Wasn’t reading or talking to anyone. Just waiting. I caught his eye at one point, by accident. Couldn’t tell anything from that. There was no expression on his face. Nothing in his eyes. Just a bland, but good-looking, dude.
And then a motorcycle pulled up. A local man driving, of course. And off the back of the bike hopped a small, pretty, young girl – 15 at the most. Huge white dude stood up, wandered over for some brief negotiation. I sized it up immediately and stared at him in disgust. He did his best to ignore my gaze. Then the girl and the human stain wandered off a little ways out of sight.
The dude came back alone not long after. Could he have raped her that quickly? Well, duh, of course. Men only need about 30 seconds to get the job done in my experience. It could have just been a mouth rape. In my experience, that doesn’t take long either. And less fuss. And I figured, since he knew he was under scrutiny, he couldn’t take the time to punish her or torture her for that long as many men like to do to what they see as cheap, filthy whores. Had it been more private, he could have beaten her and raped her over a longer period of time, multiple times. Maybe killed her, if he wished. Cambodia is a very, very poor country, and white dudes, for the right price can buy whatever they want. What’s the life of an uneducated, girl child to a rich, white guy likely to go back to his girlfriend or wife in Japan or China or Australia or wherever?
The guy didn’t look my way when he got back. Probably went off to get a beer and a smoke and to relive the rape. Or possibly just to head to bed to forget the child he just abused.
Me? I had lost my appetite, and I felt both dead inside and that I wanted to gut the rapist who was sauntering back to the town. End his rape career. That’s the least he deserved, in my opinion. But I said nothing. And I didn’t say anything to the male person who had had his back to the scene the entire time. It was my private window (albeit partially curtained to the worst of the interaction) into the world of male rape holidays and the complete lack of shame and disgusting privilege that comes with having a penis.
~~
Note: In another post from this trip, I relate a conversation with a local Cambodian – a bottom of the totem pole dude (but much higher than all women) who felt just as entitled as this white guy with regard to buying female flesh – and what his thoughts of me were…
Note 2: White dudes are not alone in rape tourism, even though it is seen as a ‘Western thing’. It’s not a ‘white thing’ and it’s not a ‘Western thing’. It’s a ‘man thing’ and not limited to cocks of specific colours. Plenty of men from all over the world travel to rape. However. White dudes would do well, as the primary economic power, to stop this kind of travel and provide an example to the world. But they won’t. They’re too busy blaming white women for not doing enough to end the suffering of women of colour. Oh and white men are also too busy raping/jerking off madly to rape, of course. And they also like to mansplain that being raped for money is an empowering choice for women – if only they could do it tooooo. Yeah, right. Useless human garbage.
Note 3: I am absolutely not going to use the euphemism ‘sex tourism’, because using a prostitute isn’t sex. It’s rape. Calling it sex tourism takes away men’s responsibility for what they have freely chosen to do, and takes focus away from what girls and women have not freely chosen to do. Prostitution is very, very, very seldom a free choice (if you use the actual definition of free choice and not the liberal feminism definition).
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