Showing posts with label misogyny. Show all posts
Showing posts with label misogyny. Show all posts

Saturday, December 6, 2014

Gamergate and the Use of Online Technology to Silence Women

Tim Watts, Federal Labor Member for Gellibrand (Australia) speaks about the use of online technology to threaten and intimidate women who support feminist issues.

Thursday, October 9, 2014

Social Justice Warriors and the New Culture War

I enjoyed this essay by Laurie Penny and maybe you will too.

I'm not blogging much these days. I'm reading instead.

Thursday, July 17, 2014

Dalrock Is Not an MRA!

I don't really follow Dalrock, a "Christian" blogger who describes himself as a "happily married" family man while pontificating endlessly about divorce and the perfidious, slutty ways of American women (excepting that paragon of feminine virtue, the often-referred-to-but-never-seen "Mrs. Dalrock").
David Futrelle has described him as a "nitwit with a penchant for pseudoscientific defenses of old-fashioned misogyny," but then, that describes 99% of the manosphere. What distinguishes Dalrock is that his targeting and "slut-shaming" of various young hussies is "justified" by his conservative Christian scruples. Not that there's anything new about that, either. I mean, WWJD? (never mind, let's not go there...)
The Scarlet Letter (1926) Poster
Mathematically proven to reduce out of wedlock pregnancies,

The auditory equivalent of reading a blog like Dalrock is the whine of a dentist drill, something I'm willing to subject myself to on a strictly "as needed" basis.

I'm an agnostic, or a nominal Christian myself (depending on the day you poll me) and find faith-based arguments about as fruitful and pleasant as repeatedly sticking my wet finger into an electrical socket. Freedom of religion means freedom from religion, thank God the Founding Fathers. And although I appreciate the pious' concern for the state of my eternal soul, I do wish they'd take my word for it: I'll take my chances.

I am also not very invested in the topics of marriage or divorce, maybe because I have never been married or ever been particularly interested in becoming so. As Groucho Marx once quipped, "Marriage is a wonderful institution, but who wants to live in an institution?" (Marx himself married three times, so he was perhaps not as cynical as that famous quote implies. And that marriage is a socioeconomic contract that benefits many people in many circumstances is patently obvious.)  Of course, I may very well change my mind up the road:

My sentiments exactly!
And I'm a liberal, in the sense that I support every individual's right to organize their personal lives according to their own values, providing their choices do not impinge on the rights of others to exercise the same freedom.

In other words, there isn't much a pompous gasbag like Dalrock has to say that is relevant to me. He is probably younger than I am, yet even in my cataract-clouded eyes, he's a dusty relic.

And last but not least, he simply isn't very amusing. I have trouble following Dalrock because his writing style is so verbose and ponderous. This is a man who takes himself very seriously. (Occasionally he can be oddly inventive: among his contributions to the current vernacular are phrases like "post-marital spinsterhood.") Like most "manosphere" bloggers, he is, in short, an Utter Bore to everyone in the universe except that handful of Angry White Guys who share his particular obsessions and drink from the same wellspring of bitterness... These are the kinds of unlucky-at-love divorcees that, if they corner you at a party, recite variations on the theme "I got the shaft / she got the gold mine" until you are forced to practically chew off your arm to escape.

What I do know about Dalrock -- without even reading him -- is that not only is he a boorish bore, he is a hypocrite of the first order.

Back when I was doxed, Matt Forney tried mightily to make his piece "go viral." The attempt fell noticeably flat. Most of the manosphere studiously ignored it, partly because it (I) wasn't interesting, and partly because most of these pseudonymous bloggers are very leery about publicizing doxings. They know that if they were doxed themselves, they would face the ridicule (at least) or dire socioeconomic consequences (at worst) of being linked to their secret lives online. Being doxed would expose to the world their horrible ideas virulent misogyny, which chances are -- assuming that most of them are functioning in modern society -- is an aspect of their inner psyches carefully cordoned-off from public view.

Not Mister Dalrock! Perhaps he's too arrogant to worry about being doxed. Of course, he's too passive-aggressive to link to Forney's piece directly; instead, he posted several readers' comments that did so. Like many of these guys, he gets his minions followers to do his dirty work. Then he can hold up his clean hands and claim he is only promoting "freeze peach." Cuz that's how hypocrites roll...

Anyway, not to belabor my own story, but all this is in keeping with his recent behavior regarding Rebecca Vipond Brink. Brink writes short, breezy, irreverent pieces for The Frisky, XOJane, and other sites that appeal to young women. Taking umbrage with a piece in which she wrote about dating-while-not-yet-legally-divorced,* he decided to "slut shame" her big-time, and his fan-boys obliged by trawling the internet for any smidgen of dirt personal information about Brink they could dig up and post to his comments feed. The frenzy of comments are vile, obscene, and, well, not exactly "Christian." But hey, Dalrock has a moral duty to subject such harlots to an improving session of "shaming," doesn't he?

The manosphere is all about "slut-shaming" because it's all about "sour grapes." If these men cannot possess a beautiful, intelligent, sexually autonomous young woman for themselves, they can sure as hell try to tarnish her reputation. It's standard, textbook abusive behavior, in other words.

Although "slut-shaming" is a pathetically transparent way that socially impotent men vent their frustration, and Ms. Brink hardly needs anyone to rescue her from being "slimed" on the Internet, it needs to be called out when we see it. I've had a long lifetime of watching men (and plenty of other women) "slut-shame" girls for the "crime" of being sexually autonomous beings: I'm sick of this shit!

Fortunately, the volley of verbal assaults against Brink did not go unnoticed; a small campaign was launched by Adam Lee aka The Daylight Atheist asking that Dalrock's Wordpress site be reported for abuse. Lee admits he didn't expect Wordpress to take any real action, but wanted to send a message that bullies will be socially sanctioned.

Dalrock responded with a self-righteous, pearl-clutching post the other day in which he claimed that it was Dalrock himself -- that fine upstanding Christian husband and father! -- who was being victimized by evil atheists simply because of his efforts to "promote Christian morality." 

It's also amusing to note how distressed he was to be identified as "an MRA." You see, he's not an MRA himself; he's "a Christian" who just happens to have a large MRA readership. There's a world of difference. Bear that in mind while you watch the following clip from Monty Python's "Life of Brian."

Of course, my mentioning Dalrock on my blog is like throwing chum to the sharks. Like most of the manosphere bloggers, who are addicted to any attention whether positive or negative, I imagine Dalrock scours the internet on a daily basis looking for any mention of his name. Oh well, in for a penny, in for pound, I say: Bring on the flying monkeys.
* Personally not recommended, but meh! It happens. See How to Survive Your Boyfriend's Divorce if you find yourself in this unfortunate but common situation.

Saturday, May 31, 2014

A Few Words About Homophobia

Dude, chill out!

Mr. Sploosh has no clue how much he reveals about himself in this excited little tweet.  People who are confident about their own sexuality do not scream about it in public (or share explicit details of their marital hijinks in their blogs). Most of the straight guys I'm friends with are downright circumspect about their own sex lives, and appear to be fairly indifferent to the sex lives of others (I concede they may just be putting a lid on it when I'm around).*

As followers of the "manosphere" are well aware, misogyny goes hand in hand with bigotry of every stripe, including homophobia.  The New Misogynists loathe any behavior that violates traditional (heteronormative) gender roles.  Their reaction goes well beyond "disapproval" or mild distaste.  Gender variance in any form seems to incite their hatred.  Furthermore, they return to this subject again and again, the leit-motif that runs throughout the 'sphere. Why are they obsessed with tez gayz?

There have been several studies that suggest that men who are "homophobic" are more likely to be sexually aroused by gay porn. I'm not surprised. All my life, whenever I have run across a man who was vociferously homophobic or transphobic, I always suspected he was compensating for a sense of inadequacy, or telegraphing ambivalence regarding his own sexual orientation.  And it's always been a huge turn off, on a visceral level, because those men usually revealed themselves to be complete ass-holes with women as well. 

*Although I wish I had a nickel for every woman I know married to a cross-dresser who feels compelled to assure me, "I'm not a lesbian!"

Thursday, April 24, 2014

ROQ Makes Me Laugh (On Purpose)

A lot of stuff on Return of Queens makes me laugh, but in a way that probably does not reflect well upon my own character.  The writers on ROQ make a fetish of their femininity and constantly admonish their readers to be "lady-like", but their blatant bigotry makes a mockery of their class airs.

You see a true "lady" (or anyone born of the professional or upper middle class in the past fifty years) may be as racist as they come, but she would rather die than admit to it. So that's what I laugh about: the ladies at ROQ are hicks, and -- sorry to say it -- white trash to the core.  Their attempts to pretend otherwise are what make me laugh.

What's different about this ROQ post, "a cutting edge documentary of the MGTOW movement," is that is is supposed to be funny. Kudos to Meredith Knight, the contributor who posted it.

In fact, all of Meredith Knight's posts so far are decent, and show a degree of wit and humor noticeably lacking in most of the anti-feminist female bloggers. Not surprising, perhaps, if she is a Registered Nurse (they're usually pretty smart people).  I wish I could persuade her to switch teams.

I'd leave a comment on the site about how tickled I was, but I am sadly not welcome there, since according to their policy, "No hybrids of either are welcome, especially feminists.  Included in the list of excluded are trans-gender [pre AND post op], gender fluid [whatever the hell that means], gay men, lesbians, male feminists [yes they do exist], and any combination of those previously listed."

I just hope Knight, with all the biology classes she's surely taken, does not seriously believe that "human hybrids" exist.

Friday, April 11, 2014

Transmisogyny = Misogyny Squared

"AkioFlip" is so fearful that he might be unknowingly seduced by a postoperative transsexual woman that he writes a post on Matt Forney's website practically begging transsexual women to stay away from him.  As usual, a "manosphere" post reveals more about its author's tenuous grasp of his own "masculinity" than any objective reality.  A guy like Mr. Flip is so afraid that he might be attracted to a trans woman that he puts the onus on her to announce her "trans" nature to the world like a leper ringing a bell.

The trope of the "deceptive tranny" is so embedded in our popular psyche that it is difficult to think of a movie or book that features a trans woman character that does not, to some degree, reference it.  

Even Emily Yoffe over at Slate recently addressed a question (rather horribly) about a family squabble instigated by a trans woman's "failure" to disclose her trans status in a manner deemed timely by the writer. 

Akio? Mr. Flip? envisages bands of roving trans women "on the prowl trying to have sex with heterosexual men," who feel "they have full right to violate straight men who wouldn't otherwise have sex with another man." 

Mr. Flip is so preoccupied with the statistically remote possibility he might be fooled by some mythical predatory trans woman that he actually links his readers to a photograph of a vaginoplasty.  He has, no doubt, spent many hours anxiously scrutinizing such photos for evidence of some "telling" feature that distinguishes a trans woman's vulva from any other woman's, either in appearance or function.  (Of course, if the surgery was competently performed, even a gynecologist can't tell by superficial examination, never mind a typical "manospherean", whose familiarity with female anatomy we should not presume.*

He writes that "having their penises removed, taking hormones and proclaiming, I'm a woman, is enough to become a real woman."

He seems utterly unaware that many trans women never have surgery (whether by choice or financial constraints or age/health conditions).  Some trans women don't even take hormones.  And yet they are women too --  not because they "claim" to be, but because they have been born with an unconscious, and almost certainly hardwired, gender identity that is at odds with their genitalia.

The fact that a certain percentage of the population is (and always has been) transsexual forces us cis-gendered folks to acknowledge that a person's gender identity develops to some (as yet unknown) extent independent of chromosomal configuration.  The fact that trans sexuality exists (not only in humans but other animals) certainly makes me ponder what it is, exactly, that supports my own conviction that I am, indeed, "a woman."  Sure, I can look down and see my genitals match my internal sense of self, but I know that even if I woke up tomorrow with a six inch clitoris and a full beard, I would not feel any less "female."  I have had a hysterectomy and no longer produce estrogen, but ain't I a woman?  My vagina, breasts, fat distribution and passion for bright nail polish do not define my gender, although the fact that everything "matches" makes my life easier.  Does Akio Flip's penis define his "manhood?" (Wait, better not answer that, I'm afraid what the answer might be.)

"Cis-gender" may in Matt Forney's opinion be just a politically correct way of defining "normal," but in actuality it's a very specific and invaluable term that allows us to conceptualize and discuss gender more accurately.  It's an important word because if science and human experience tell us anything, it's that gender is a lot more complicated than we realized. And that Mother Nature loves diversity, even if her children don't always.

Mr. Flip cites Janice Raymond's notorious rad-fem screed, The Transsexual Empire: The Making of the She-Male, to support his view that transsexual women are not accepted by the lesbian community either.  In fact, this book is widely dismissed as a kind of hysterical historical curiosity and the philosophy it outlines is widely rejected by most feminists.  Of course, TERFs still exist, but they are as much dinosaurs as the new misogynists are.  Mainstream feminists are gradually but inexorably moving in the direction of embracing their trans sisters, in part due to the activism and educational efforts of transsexual women like Julia Serano and Janet Mock, and because most "mainstream" feminists are committed to inclusion, respect and tolerance for everyone.

According to Mr. Flip, "Shemales have tried to argue that our aversion for transsexualism is a by-product of our gender roles, which according to them were assigned by artificial social constructs."  How many lies can be packed into one sentence?  First off, there are many cultures that have no particular "aversion for transsexualism."  Second, I have never read any trans writer argue that all "gender roles... were assigned by artificial social constructs."

Mr. Flip claims that "anyone who requires advanced medical procedures to “realign” their entire physiological makeup isn’t in any position to deem what is or isn’t natural."  This will be news to anyone who has undergone medical treatment for any systemic condition.  It also vastly overstates the complexity of the kind of medical intervention most transsexual women require to "align" their bodies.  Transforming a penis and scrotum into a clitoris, vagina and labia requires expertise, but is surprisingly "simple" -- perhaps not surprising, after all, in view that male and female genitalia are highly parallel structures.

Mr. Flip argues that the "evolutionary reasons for the distinction between male and female remain."  Again, his assumption that all trans women elect to have surgery that sterilizes them is fallacious.  My partner has five biological grandchildren (so far).  Despite being a transsexual woman, she has certainly outperformed me in terms of reproductive success.

Mr. Flip encourages trans women to seek acceptance in the arms of "gay and bisexual men," ignoring the fact that gay men are by definition not interested in having sex with women and in fact generally evince a strong preference for "masculine" partners.  Although transsexual women sometimes emerge from the "drag queen" community, the conflation of feminine performance and feminine gender identity is an endless source of confusion and obfuscation.

Mr. Flip also implies that all transsexual women are attracted to men, which is obviously not the case.  The sexual orientation of trans women -- like women in general -- is all over the map.  Many identify as lesbians.  Some are strictly straight.  In terms of preference, a number are somewhat fluid (for lack of a better term, "bisexual").  I've met trans women who are only interested in other trans women, or who wind up partnered with trans men.  And I'm confident they are represented in the asexual community as well.

Mr. Flip claims that "most straight cisgender men... gag at the mere mention of kissing a so-called transgender woman."  If that is true, it is a measure of those men's internalized homophobia and fragile sense of their own heteronormativity.  The fact is, a lot of straight men (and lesbians) are attracted to women they know to be trans.  They're attracted to them for the same reason they are attracted to other women:  because they're beautiful, because they're feminine, because they're clever, because they're strong, authentic people who are often more self-aware and more compassionate by virtue of their own personal gender struggles.  And a lot of them are coming out of the closet too, despite efforts of people like Mr. Flip to "shame" them too.

I appreciate the trans woman in my life because, having lived the first half of her life "as a man," she can give me insights into what it is like to be socialized as a man, and yet because she explicitly identifies as a woman, she inspires me to embrace my own feminine nature. Trans people have so much to teach us cis-genders about what it means to be a Man or a Woman.

Mr. Flip concludes his post by reassuring trans women he doesn't mean them any harm, while at the same time warning them that "the average heterosexual... if he learned he had sex with one of you... would scream, become physically ill, and maybe even try to kill you."  [italics mine]

Yep, the good ole "panic defense," the one that (almost) got Gwen Araujo's murderers off the hook. Wow, blaming violence on the sexuality of victims.  Where have we heard that before?  Sorry, buddy, that shit don't fly anymore.

It's posts like this that contribute to the disproportionate risk trans women face as victims of violence.  Like most of what is posted in the "manosphere," it is hate speech, straight up, pure'n' simple, and not even thinly disguised.  

Here's a young trans woman's humorous response to a Return of Kings article, "8 Ways to Spot a Transsexual."  As for me, I have given up on trying to identify transsexuals since I find I am dead wrong at least half the time and since I have been misgendered myself more than once, a phenomenon I attribute to "trans-by-association."

* Hey, speaking of which, remember "The Thirty Types of Pussy?"

Wednesday, March 19, 2014

There Are Consequences...

There is this cracker on the manosphere I'll call "Dr. Delusion."  He has a very young girlfriend I'll call "Lady Misandry."  Now before you get all politically correct on me and call me out for the use of the term "cracker," I'll have you know that I have it on high authority (that is, a series of bartenders in Florida) that "cracker" is not necessarily a slur and I am not using it pejoratively here.  I'm using it to paint a picture of a working-class Southern man who is suspicious of outside authority (government, intellectuals, etc.) and clings to the Old School values of traditional gender roles, independence, self-reliance, and bigotry.  The kind of guy who waves the Confederate flag at Lynyrd Skynyrd concerts but will happily offer you a beer from his cooler.  (Racists usually take to me on sight because, well look at me!  I could be an Aryan Den Mother.)

In fact, I find much to admire about Dr. Delusion.  First of all, he is one of those rare "manospherians" who actually seems to work, and to work hard.  He's the kind of guy who is not afraid to get his hands dirty.  He embodies a lot of the traditional masculine virtues I hold in high esteem, not least of which is the ability to fix stuff.  I'm sure he knows his way around Home Depot, and can take any power tool in hand with confidence and authority.

Dr. Delusion and his lady live in a rural area where they raise their own vegetables and animals.  I was particularly interested to find that they raise rabbits for food because a few years ago, when the economy tanked, I seriously considered doing the same in my backyard.  Unfortunately, I couldn't imagine actually slaughtering them.  I would have had to find someone like Dr. Delusion to do that for me.  Also, I've eaten rabbit once, and I didn't like it very much.*  That's when I decided a better plan was to stockpile booze, so that I'd have something to barter when Doomsday hit.

I've been trying to give up meat, but it's a struggle.  I'm fully aware that eating flesh I am not prepared to kill myself is hypocritical.  Therefore, I forced myself to view the photos Dr. Delusion had gleefully posted on his blog of killing and skinning a rabbit.  It actually looked pretty easy, and tossed in a stew I'm sure it was very palatable.

So I'm reading along, almost wishing I had a neighbor as handy and resourceful as Dr. Delusion, when I come to this line:  "This was a two year old female who refuse [sic] to let my bucks breed her.  Around my house, there are consequences for refusing to breed." [italics mine]

And that's when I almost lost my lunch.
* I've actually seen a rabbit killed before.  When I was visiting a friend's farm near Alessandria, la nonna beckoned me over so that I could watch her dash a rabbit's head against the side of the barn.  I threw up on the spot, much to the old lady's amusement.  I had just enjoyed a gelato, and when it came back up it was still cold.  A singular experience. 

Friday, March 14, 2014

Now This Is Scary

Looks like A Nice Guy, doesn't he?
I can mostly dismiss the New Misogynists as a pretty marginal bunch of losers, but then a story comes along that makes me realize some of them actually exercise authority and influence in The Real World. And that is scary. Take the case of Mike Maggio, a judge from Arkansas who was recently doxxed and revealed to be the author of the kind of blithely horrible racist and misogynistic comments that are the fodder of most manosphere blogs. Shivering in the cold wind of his exposure, he is ineffectually struggling to maintain his position in the Corridors of Power by issuing the type of (non)apologies these idiots are wont to do.  The author of This Ruthless World discusses this phenomenon -- sure to become more common in the near future -- in her typically incisive fashion.  And when it rains, it pours: the embattled judge is now facing an onslaught of unrelated complaints of misconduct and civil suits because, in addition to being a complete dick about women and African-Americans, he also seems to be incompetent at his job.

Sunday, March 9, 2014

Hypatia of Alexandria

Tonight I watched "Agora", a 2009 Spanish film by director Alejandro Amenabar starring Rachel Weisz as Hypatia of Alexandria, a 4th century pagan mathematician sometimes credited (probably inaccurately) with inventing the astrolabe and hydrometer, but whose work on conic curves is well established.   Hypatia was brutally murdered by Christian zealots (depicted in the scene below).

The film has been criticized for being historically inaccurate.  Although Hypatia is considered "one of the mothers of mathematics", none of her work survived her death and the only information we have is from secondary sources.  Regardless of liberties taken, the film is worth watching, especially if you enjoy ancient historical dramas as I do, simply for the recreation of ancient Alexandria in the moments before the collapse of the Roman Empire (the film was shot in Malta), and for the poignant performance by Rachel Weisz.

Rational thought quashed by fundamentalism, the distrust of education and intellectual achievement (particularly of women), sexual violence as a means to intimidate an entire gender...  Is this what the 21st century proponents of the "Dark Enlightenment" advocate?


Sunday, March 2, 2014

The Internet as a Weapon of Misogynists

This article in Salon caught my attention today, for obvious reasons:  "Women who have a tendency to exhibit feminist notions on the Internet are especially victims of this [doxxing and humiliation].  Anti-feminism and the doxxing movement are interrelated.  There's a notion of wanting to harm women who speak out or take up too much space, women who don't know their place on the Internet.  As Adam Savage says, 'The Internet hates women'."

Monday, February 17, 2014

Why Misogyny is Unmanly

Antidote to the horrific crap I've been writing about for over a year:  Why Misogyny is Unmanly.

Note to Self:  Find more.

Sunday, December 15, 2013

Seduce and Destroy!

I'm among those who believe "Magnolia" is a great movie, not least of which is due to the incredible performance Tom Cruise gives as the toxic, emotionally crippled PUA guru, Frank T. J. Mackie.  Made in 1999, it still holds up well, and certainly Cruise has not had a role that rivals it since.  Also, the soundtrack by Aimee Mann is awesome.  You can watch the entire film on Youtube if you haven't seen it.  (Someone should have told Roosh this was a cautionary tale, not an instructional video!)

Saturday, December 14, 2013

The Lies the New Misogynists Tell Each Other

in my experience self identifying as a feminist correlates very strongly with liking to get choked during sex

Tuesday, September 17, 2013

Matt Forney Declares Jihad on Female Self Confidence!

According to Matt Forney, American women have way too much self-esteem, and it is killing his boner.  (Well, not literally, he hastily amends -- he'd still "bang" a cocky bitch if her figure was "slamming" -- "but a crucial part of the attraction [would be] lost.")

Apparently, the state of Matt Forney's libido is crucial to the health of the State at large  Therefore, "There needs to be a massive and concerted war on female self-esteem." 

You know, it all kinda makes sense when you consider that only a woman with pitifully low self-esteem would be attracted to a guy like Matt Forney.

I work with a lot of international students who tend to believe that Americans in general, of both genders, suffer from an excess of self-esteem, and sometimes I am inclined to agree with them.  It's certainly become common for Baby Boomers to complain about the Millenials' inflated opinion of themselves, which goes hand in hand with their inflated senses of entitlement.  (Although sometimes I reckon that's just what the old folks always say about the young'uns, and the fact is, I can't get too exorcised about it:  Time has a way of bringing us all down a peg or two.)

Forney also writes, "Most girls’ so-called achievements, the ones they take pride in, are complete jokes," citing as examples liberal arts degrees and "fluff" jobs in "human resources" or elementary education. (What's with these guys and their fixation on women in human resources?  I mean, I know dozens of women who all work, and none of them are in HR.)   Anyway, I'd hate to see family farms and the military try to function a week without the cadres of women who are employed in these so-called "masculine" fields.

I'd also love to know exactly how Mr. Forney makes his livelihood.  I'm willing to bet it is not in a STEM field nor in mining or construction.  Cab driver, maybe?  Fork lift operator?  Parking garage attendant?  Something along those lines, I imagine...

"If every man lost his job tomorrow, the country would collapse."  I wouldn't count on that.  Didn't WWII prove that women are perfectly capable of picking up the slack when necessary, or was Rosie the Riveter just liberal propaganda?

"If girls want to play in our world, they'll have to obey our rules."  Ha ha ha!  First of all, the world does not belong to a handful of angry, sexually frustrated, unskilled men (not even when they're white).  Your "rules" are irrelevant.  If the world belongs to anyone, it is to those who are flexible, forward-thinking, and who can adapt to a rapidly changing playing field.  And that does not describe the standard ass-backward reactionary who frequents your blog.

Forney states that "Insecurity is integral to femininity" and that "Insecurity is the natural state of woman."  Hmm.  I posit that "insecurity" is the natural state of all rational human beings. 

Forney reasons that women would be frightened without men to protect them.  I counter that this is true only to the degree that women need men to protect them from other men.  I haven't been physically threatened by another female since Chantelle threatened to beat me up after 8th grade gym class. And come to think of it, most men rely on other men (military, police, etc.) for protection too. 

"Confidence doesn't give men erections; vulnerability does."  In my experience, both men and women are attracted to partners who exhibit both qualities in appealingly appropriate measures.  Confidence is not the opposite of vulnerability.  Anyway, I've never worried about my ability to give a man an erection; it strikes me as just about the easiest part of relating to men.

Then Forney takes a U turn in his own logic, arguing that the problem is not, after all, a woman's self-confidence, but rather her "inborn insecurity," which causes her to view a man as "a life support system for a penis, an accoutrement... incapable of viewing men as human beings."  So, make up your mind, Matt Forney!  Are we too confident, or not confident enough?

The essay goes on, but I can't be bothered to do more than skim the rest.  Essentially, I am left with the impression that Matt Forney really, really wishes he could play the guitar -- or meet some extremely insecure woman who could -- and they could pursue "worthy" careers together as street buskers.

Saturday, May 18, 2013

Not a Feminist, I Assume

Almost every manospherean writer claims that just because he/she is anti-feminist, that does not mean he/she is a misogynist.  Of course, the writer will then proceed to demonstrate his/her fear and hatred of women in the most fulsome manner.

A few months ago, right wing conspiracy theorist Pete Santilli, on behalf of American women, demanded an apology from Alex Jones for his "disgusting remarks" promoting rape.  But better not assume from this gallant gesture that Mr. Santilli himself is not a vicious misogynist.  
I read today that he has announced on the air that he wants to shoot Hillary Clinton in the "vagina."  One might think that her "head" or "heart" would be more lethal targets.  If it is agony, not immediate death, he wishes to inflict, why not her "stomach" or her "knees?"  He wants to shoot Bill Clinton and Barack Obama too, but does not specify that it is their "testicles" that should be blown off.

He chooses Clinton's vagina because this is the organ that represents the very essence of misogynistic loathing and longing.  Like Phil Spector, he wants to penetrate her with his phallic gun before he sends her into oblivion.  It's so fucking telling.  And it's so fucking chilling.  And I'm so fucking sick of reading and hearing about this kind of shit.  And now I've used up my entire f-word allowance for the day, damn it.

Wednesday, May 15, 2013

The (Literal) War Between the Sexes

I was idly browsing the comments in Roosh V todayIt was the familiar topic of how poorly the charms of American women compare to those of Eastern European women.   Ho-hum.  Roosh is doing a lot of recycling these days.  The fans themselves seemed a bit weary of the subject, like they were just going through the motions.  

However, one young man (I assume) did write something that stuck in my head all afternoon, to the effect (and I paraphrase here) that he really wished American women would get with the program, figure out how much they were hated, and start making themselves more pleasing "before civil war breaks out."  

Now it's not uncommon for these guys to propose, uhm, forceful means to resolve their frustration, i.e., a Spearhead post not long ago calling for the sexual enslavement of single mothers, or gathering up all the fat girls into forced labor camps to work off those unsightly extra pounds, or that poor Incel guy who wants "the government" to require pay women to go out with him.  I suppose forcefully imposing their collective will on more than half the population doesn't seem that far out to them (as long as they don't factor in all those beta and omega men who would surely balk at seeing their female relatives, friends and colleagues carted off).   

Roosh himself has hinted rather darkly that "things" were reaching some sort of tipping point; that "things" were going to get "uglier" in the near future.

Actually, I've run across a lot of similarly ominous warnings from the online misogynists.  The following is plucked from The Spearhead in January 2010:  "May your words provoke a reaction.  I grow impatient for the coming war." 

And then I was introduced by No More Mr. Nice Guy to Eivind Berge's blog, wherein he declares "Feminism versus MRA is an irreconcilable difference that can only be resolved by violence."   

Berge was recently charged with inciting violence by Norwegian authorities, but the charges have been droppedIn the process, however, his sanity was brought into question by nearly everyone he knew, an understandably harrowing experience that he describes in Kafkaesque detail -- but which leaves this reader pretty much convinced he is indeed one crazy barrel of lutefisk possibly brilliant but definitely disturbed individual.  

This ordeal, and the resulting sense of betrayal from Berge's point of view, led him to "repudiate" his own family, a familiar theme with other MRAs.  Sooner or later, their misogyny drives everyone away, and destroys all intimacy... they get increasingly isolated... their mental disorders get worse and more entrenched...

I'm not sure whether to laugh, cry, or buy myself a shotgun.  Where are these gathering storm clouds but in their own fevered imaginations?  And what would this final showdown look like?  I mean, where would the battle lines be drawn and what would their tactics be?  And what would the final outcome be?  It sounds like the premise of a really awful sci-fi movie.  Or a video game perhaps?

Although I'd like to dismiss all this as adolescent bluster and blowing off steam, I'll admit this kind of talk makes me uneasy, and I hope that the SPLC continues to monitor these websites carefully.  

Update:  I read today that radio host Pete Santilli announced on the air, "I want to shoot Hilary Clinton in the vagina."  

Sunday, May 12, 2013

Women Who Hate Women

Ann Coulter, watch out:  there's a new anti-feminist female provocateur emerging, and she's just as blonde, skinny, and outrageously mean-spirited as you are!  PLUS she's younger and -- dare I say it? -- even prettier.  Yes, Mirror, mirror on the wall:  it's JudgyBitch (catchy moniker!) AKA "Janet Bloomfield."  She's a self-described stay at home mom, reported to be from Canada, with an undergraduate degree in film theoryShe is affectionately referred to as "Drunky" on another anti-MRA blog because she is rumored to enjoy her booze.  Allegedly.  And God knows I'd be the last person in the world to condemn her for that!  However, if alcohol is behind this brand of vitriol, she might want to reconsider blogging-while-drinking, cuz this lady is one mean drunk.

I will admit that one of my guiltiest pleasures is indulging my morbid fascination with really evil women.  Male serial killers, architects of doom, and genocidal maniacs are a dime a dozen, but when a woman is truly horrible, she gets my attention.  Hence my addiction to Deadly Women, or any stories about the likes of Myra Hindley, Elisabeth Bathory, and, most recently, Jodi Arias.  Make of this predilection what you will -- I cannot defend it -- but clearly I'm not alone.  

Of course, women don't have to be practicing Black Widows to fascinate me.  They only have to think like sociopaths.  

I just spent an hour on one of Janet Bloomfield's blogs and I was impressed.  There aren't many women out there with the balls to claim prepubescent girls "ask" to be molested in exchange for candy, cigarettes, or limo rides.  In fact, Bloomfield has a lot to say about so-called rape and the women who invent it, but it boils down to her conviction that rape is a "fantasy" concocted by women too fat and unattractive to get real men to fuck them.  Nice, huh?  Bloomfield writes for A Voice For Men (presumably, in between mothering her three children, proudly crafting her husband sandwiches, and pouring herself just a little more chardonnay malbec). 

To get the full flavor of Janet "JudgyBitch" Bloomfield, you have to watch her Youtube channel; every narcissist has one these days.  The smug expression, the professionally cut and streaked blonde bob, the odd vocal affectations all scream a carefully crafted facade of upper middle class white privilege, and so enhance the appeal of her misogynistic rants immeasurably. 

OK, it's easy for me to understand why someone can "judge" members of a perceived inferior class -- morally reprehensible, but it follows a kind of self-serving logic -- but to turn on one's own class is a very curious phenomenon to me.  What does a woman gain by allying herself with her oppressor?  Does she believe, on some level, that by disavowing her own vulnerability as a female (and the mother of females)  and taking on the perpetrators' point of view, she wins special entitlements and protection?  Is this some variation of Stockholm Syndrome?  Armchair psychiatrists want to know!

And how does the adolescent daughter of such a woman react when the kids at school mention they watched her mom on the internet?  How do the other mothers feel about JudgyBitch as a mother and potential role model for their own daughters?   

Now I don't know if Janet Bloomfield is a pseudonym as she claims it is, but when a person posts videos on YouTube, doing everything  she can to garner a sliver of attention from the boys, she is bound to be recognized by someone, sooner than laterAnd although she claims no fear of reprisals (from her husband's employer, from the college where maybe she will get a Ph.D. some day), I can predict with grim certainty that the wildly irresponsible claims and downright evil ideas she has posted about rape and pedophilia will not be easy to sweep away.

Oh, that's right:  JudgyBitch doesn't give a shit what other people think of her (unless it's Paul Elam, perhaps).  She's like the Courtney Love of the manosphere!   Now where'd I put that corkscrew?

Friday, April 19, 2013

MGTOW, or My Uncle, the Misogynist

I don't usually think of putting a trigger warning on one of my posts, but I will alert anyone who is reading that this post involves incest and sexual abuse (not of a child).

This year my mother's younger brother died.  Aside from my sisters, he was the last remaining member of my immediate family. 

Although my sisters and I were not indifferent to his passing, no one shed a tear.

He died alone, in his late seventies, in a nursing home.  He had been failing for several months.  A social worker handled his final arrangements.  There was no funeral; no one would have attended, anyway.

How did this happen?

Once I adored my only uncle.  Every other Christmas, he swept into our lives from exotic locales: Korea, Iran, Thailand, Turkey.  He worked as a technician for military contractors like Litton.  He seemed to me to be larger than life (and at 6'4" 300#, was an indisputably powerful presence).  When I was a child, he was the only male who showed me physical affection.  "Don't pick her up Ken!" my mother would cry.  "She's heavier than she looks!"  But clinging to my uncle's thick neck, fragrant with aftershave, I was as light as a baby monkey.  He bought me Lincoln Logs; he laughed at my antics.  My sisters and I vied for his attention, but I was always secretly convinced that he loved me the best of all.  I had every reason to believe that my uncle would always be the #1 Guy in My Life.

Time passed.  My sisters and I entered adolescence.  Suddenly our uncle didn't love us so much.  He had a way of scrutinizing my developing body with a hypercritical eye.  He warned me darkly of the dangers of becoming so fat that no man would ever want me.  He no longer had any interest in what I was studying or reading or doing.  When we did engage in conversation, he steered it toward sexuality: his own and mine.  He regaled me with stories of his adventures in third world brothels, of the sexual peccadilloes of his many girlfriends, his own sexual preferences, and all the perils and pleasures of being a randy globe-trotting bachelor

Of course, a part of me was fascinated and flattered that an adult would make me such a confidante, but part of me was increasingly uncomfortable with him.  As a 14 year old in the 1970s, I knew nothing about "appropriate boundaries."  That concept had not yet been coined.  I dealt with my internal conflict by mostly avoiding him.  From a safe distance, I could still "love" and admire him

While I was teaching in Tehran, my uncle popped in unexpectedly from Amman.  While using the toilet, he glimpsed my diaphragm drying on the edge of sink, and let me know in no uncertain terms how "disgusting" he had found the sightDeeply shamed, I explained that, had I known he was visiting, I certainly would have hidden it from view.  My apology hardly mollified him.  Apparently, it wasn't the sight of a diaphragm per se that upset him, but the fact that it was my diaphragmI was perplexed by this.   

Clearly, my uncle enjoyed sharing the details of his own sexual adventures with me.  Why was he distressed by evidence that I was sexually active myself?  Did I not at least get credit for being sexually responsible?

While I was doing a Fulbright in Italy in my twenties, my uncle visited me from Germany.  He offered to take me to the Riviera for three days.  As we checked into the hotel our first night, I found he had reserved a "matrimoniale".  He was visibly annoyed when I balked at this arrangement.  When he complained that I was taking advantage of his generosity by insisting on separate beds, I paid for a separate room.

Later, I met my uncle at the pool, where he coolly appraised my swimsuit-clad body.  "You're one of those fat women who actually looks better without her clothes on,"  he opined.  I dived into the water to escape my embarrassment.  Later, he came over to the pool where I was idly dangling my legs.  He sat down beside me, laid a ham-sized hand on my knee, and invited me to give him a massage before dinner.  As he insinuated his hand between my thighs, it was clear that "massage" was code for something more intimate.

I stammered something along the lines that what he was proposing sounded a lot like "incest.The very word stuck in my mouth like a clod of filth, but my uncle was unfazed.

Indeed, he proceeded to instruct me that incest was nothing new, nor anything necessarily immoral.  After all, the Pope had routinely given 17th century Spanish kings dispensation to marry their nieces.  (I didn't think at the time of pointing out that our family had been neither ruling class nor Catholic for at least 300 years. All I could think of was Sex with Uncle Kenny = eeewwww.)

The weekend went down hill from there.  Needless to say, I couldn't wait to get home.  Bidding my uncle arrivederci at the train station, I urged him to get psychological help to deal with his issues.  I mean, that's actually how I put it, and I said it with great kindness because I mostly wasn't angry; I mostly felt sorry for him; I mostly thought he was just a very, very lonely man with "issues" (possibly stemming from abuse my his mother / my grandmother).  I suppose I thought that my familial duty was to steer him into therapy so that he could learn to have intimate relationships with women who weren't prostitutes (or nieces).

My uncle looked me in the eye rather tenderly for a moment while i was earnestly imploring him.  "You know, you remind me so much of your mother..."  The implication was that it was not me he lusted for, but instead his sister / my mother. 

"Anyway," he suddenly turned away dismissively, his face hardening, "You're too old for me now."  (I was 25.)

I never shared these experiences with my mother.  I didn't trust she would believe me, and I didn't want to poison his relationship with the only person he really loved.

Fast forward ten years later: I accidentally saw my uncle while visiting my mother.  We got into a heated dinner table conversation about domestic violence.  When I declared, "There's no excuse for a man to hit a woman," my uncle flew into a rage.  He reared up, chair clattering across the floor, and raised his huge, clenched fists.  Towering over me, eyes bulging with fury, he bellowed, "Some women NEED beating!  Because SOME women just don't know when --  to -- SHUT UP!"  And then -- and this is the worst part -- he opened his mouth and began flapping his tongue in a grotesque caricature of a nagging woman.

My jaw tingled in apprehension of the shattering blow it was about to receive.  

I fled, barricading myself into my mother's bedroom, and refused to emerge until my uncle had left. Weeks later, I sent him a note, telling him our relationship was "over" until he had gotten "help" for his "anger management."

That was the last time I ever spoke to my uncle in person.  We occasionally exchanged words when I picked up the phone at my mother's house. I was cold but civil, while he nattered on, seemingly oblivious to the chill.

When I heard Uncle Kenny was undergoing a triple bypass, I wondered if I shouldn't patch things up between us; let bygones be bygones.  I didn't want to be left holding the grudge if he died.

However, while I was mulling thusly, my mother mentioned casually-in-passing that my uncle had long been disparaging my character to anyone who listened, i.e., had accused me of being "a slut" who had actually come on to him, and, apparently, had slept with half the Iranian Air Force as well.  Aside from the obvious disturbing question of What kind of mother allows her daughter to be so slandered?, I was mortified to realize that extended family members, many of whom hadn't seen me since I was a child, had been hearing this vile stuff about me for years.  

In the end, I did call my uncle a few weeks before he died.  I wanted to remind him that he had been loved once, if only by a little girl that no longer existed.  He wasn't moved by this gesture.  "I'm not leaving you a dime," he croaked faintly in a voice I could hardly recognize.  "I know, I know," I assured him. "It doesn't matter."  

His will left his entire estate (or at least what could be traced and pieced together) to a Korean bar girl who'd had the misfortune of suffering a debilitating aneurysm in his apartment twenty years before. The social worker did the legwork of locating the girl's family in Seoul; I'm sure they were happy for the windfall.  I was just grateful it hadn't gone to the NRA.

My partner might admonish me for speaking ill of the dead here, but my rejoinder is this:  My uncle cannot read these words, and even if he could, he wouldn't suffer because he would not feel a jot of remorse.  

Anyway, he had an entire lifetime to try to understand and be understood, to love and be lovedIt was his choice to live, and to hate, and to die alone, the same choice being made right now by all those MGTOW.