For the sake of my own mental health and quest for personal happiness, I have been trying to lay off the "manosphere," but the other night found myself pulled back in. I'd seen a retweet on Chris Kluwe's feed from Randi Lee Harper, a coder and game enthusiast, who has been working on an app that will allow twitter users a means to block gamer-gators from accessing their feeds. I thought that was an interesting idea given that social media platforms like twitter are unable or unwilling to develop anti-harassment policies with any teeth.
I don't fully understand how Harper's program works, but it is based on an algorithm that identifies block-list candidates primarily by their link to the gamergate hashtag, and those they follow. Undoubtedly, some innocent parties have been swept up in this -- obviously, many who follow the misogynists are doing so in order to keep a wary eye on them -- but there is an appeal process, by which people can be (and in fact are being) removed from the "blacklist".
Harper's project isn't sitting at all well with the gamer-gators misogynists, most of whom appear to live online and who have grown accustomed to unfettered access to their "enemies" -- and they've reacted in predictable ways: by attempting to use the power of SEO to smear Harper's name on Google. I watched, transfixed by the sheer horror of it, as Mike Cernovich threw up on his twitter feed shot after shot of Ms. Harper's old personal blog (in which she candidly discusses a bad breakup, among other painful experiences) along with a mugshot from a traffic violation ten years ago and other personal pictures. This was not the first time Ms. Harper's online reputation had been violated by disgruntled, anonymous trolls -- this seems to go with the territory of being a young woman in tech or journalism -- so Cernovich dug around in the libelous cesspool that is Encyclopedia Dramatica too, to throw up a post that is a bizarre mash of innuendo, frank speculation, fact, and outright fabrication. My mouth literally agape, I watched this online attack unfold in real time. Of course, Cernovich deleted the most outrageous tweets immediately (and moved the attack to a post on one of his blogs). I'm sure the tweets have been screen capped and saved. Cernovich appears to fully expect, and even anticipate, being banned from twitter. As enraging (and needless to say, immensely triggering) as it was to watch this online attack take place, Randi Harper's responses, curiously, made me feel stronger.
The
only one looking bad is the person who is trying to shame me for it.
The only people that will eat it up are those I don't want around.
Randi Lee Harper seems to be, in many ways, well-prepared for this onslaught. She has a long history of being the target of trolls that have wanted to bring her down, primarily through the time-honored patriarchal tradition of "slut shaming."
But here's the catch: women in increasing numbers are becoming impervious to being shamed for their sexuality or their physical appearance. And one of the tools Harper has developed is to adopt a personal strategy of being completely transparent and fundamentally unashamed about any aspect of her personal history. A person who owns their past can't be destroyed by it.
This is remarkable wisdom from a person in her early thirties.
Randi Lee Harper now proudly joins the ranks of the reigning anti-gamergate heroines: Zoe Quinn, Brianna Wu, Leigh Alexander, and Anita Sarkeesian. Social Justice Warrior Princesses? (Or, as Brianna Wu joked, "more like social justice operatives.")
I for one fully support the new addition to Roosh's media empire, a gaming site for heterosexual men. He saw a need and he stepped in to fill it like the true entrepreneur he is. Glad too to see he has a strong ethics policy which explicitly prohibits doxxing and online harassment. Most of the SJWs and feminists are equally thrilled. As one wag tweeted, "Can we now replace the gate with a wall, put razor wire on top, and keep them all in there?"
Following the manosphere can really fill an old broad like me with despair. And it's been a particularly horrible year for many women on the Internet, thanks to the misogynistic shit goblins and grifters who broke out of the confines of the manosphere to invade gaming. What gives me hope is seeing so many successful men come forth and stand up as self-identified feminists in the wake of a twitter-driven witch hunt -- a veritable orgy of doxxing, threats, and harassment -- that was ostensibly about "ethics in journalism," but was never, ever about anything but angry white, mostly anonymous guys having meltdowns over their perceived "loss" of privilege.
Today my students are writing about whether celebrities and professional athletes should be role models, so this is on my mind today:
To anyone who uses his position of power, his louder voice, to champion those who have relatively little power, I salute you. I want to throw you a ticker tape parade, bury you in flowers, buy you drinks, kiss your hand. You make a difference. You give others hope and strength.
I have so many masculine heroes right now, I can't name them all: Aziz Ansari, Louis CK, Stephen Colbert, Chris Kluwe, Arthur Chu... Help me out, who am I missing here?
Being
called a slut is a compliment. American feminists need to take a trip
to the Middle East to see how bad women really have it.
OK, Mr. KirillWasHere, I am an American woman who spent ten fucking years in the Middle East (Afghanistan, Iran, Saudi Arabia, Yemen), and guess what? It was pretty much the same damn thing.
One day I was strolling down the streets of Teheran with a male colleague. All along the route, we heard the hiss of "coos... coos... coos..." (= cunt... cunt... cunt...) "My gawd, Cinzia," my colleague said. "Is it like this every time you walk down the street?" Well, yup, it was, which is why I took to wearing a chador when I went out. If I could have managed to pass as a man (as another British teacher did with her anorak and slim hips) I would have done that instead, but presenting myself as a pious Muslim woman was the best I could do. Disguising myself in a swath of black nylon didn't eliminate the harassment entirely, but it kept it down to a dull, manageable roar. Now that I'm identifiably post-menopausal, I am no longer the victim of this kind of walking nightmare forced to walk a gauntlet every time I venture forth in public. And no, I don't "miss" being cat-called in the street. Being ignored in public is one of the few consolations of becoming a crone ( = invisible to the Masculine Gaze). Having one's sexuality acknowledged by John Q. Public is not a compliment, it's simply harassment.
This iconic photo from the fifties speaks as powerfully as last week's video, doesn't it?
Nothing new here. And no, I don't think she's enjoying that attention one bit.
I've been trying to rent one of my duplex units for two months. We've tried various means of marketing it, including hiring a rental manager who appears to have done nothing more than post an obscure sign for his company on the lawn. Part of the problem is that we're putting it on the market at a time of year when relatively few people move. With the holidays fast approaching, we started to get impatient. We finally decided to post our own sign, and finally started getting a few calls. This weekend a likely prospect showed up. A young woman (I'll call her Emily) took a look at the place, and was very enthusiastic. "It's so clean and spacious! I haven't seen anything this nice!" Since moving to the area a month ago, she, her husband, their three small children AND a large dog have been sharing one room in a budget motel while they look for a house to buy.
"I can't take being cooped up in there one more day," Emily said. "I can't even put the baby on that filthy floor."
We offered the couple a three month rental agreement. That would tide us over the holidays, when the rental market was likely to pick up, and would be a great mitzvah for this pleasant family in need. The rent they would be paying us would be less than what they were paying for the motel; it would take them at least two months to find and close on a house; they would be able to spread out and relax in comfort. They even had a fenced yard for the dog. It seemed like a win:win for both parties, and we expected them to sign the agreement and move in today. We were surprised to get a tense call from Emily this morning. "Dale doesn't want to move out of the motel," she said. "I'm still talking to him about it."
As the day wore on, my partner and I wondered how Emily's conversation with Dale was going, There was not one doubt in our minds that Emily would quickly prevail. After all, as the old adage goes, If mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy. At three the phone finally rang. Emily was sobbing. "Dale won't let us leave the motel," she said. "He says it won't kill me and the kids to stay here another few weeks." That didn't make sense to us, and we couldn't help expressing our surprise. "I know it doesn't make sense," Emily said, "but he's the boss." I felt a frisson of fear at these words. Were Emily and her children (and their large loveable dog) safe? My partner said, "He's gonna pay for this later." I thought about some of the men of the manosphere who brag about their ability to exert dominance over their wives, and the other men who complain bitterly about women who "frivorce" them. I thought how Dale may have won this particular "battle" but is likely to wind up losing everything. I thought about how people fall out of love, so often, because over time their needs and desires have been dismissed by the partner with more power.
Here's an interesting article by Arthur Chu comparing #gamergate to the anti-disco rebellion of the seventies. I actually came of age during the seventies, didn't much care for (or about) disco, and have no recollection of the frenzy of violence that was triggered by an ill-advised White Sox promotional stunt (burning disco albums in front of a crowd of hysterical rock "purists"). I guess I was too busy listening to the music I did like (Neil Young and other folk-rockers; the taste for punk came later).
In making the analogy, however, Chu makes an interesting and important point that applies equally well to the "manosphere" and the MRM: The people who embrace these reactionary movements are always, almost exclusively, white guys who perceive themselves as victims.
"Our various “culture wars” tend to boil down to one specific
culture war, the one about men wanting to feel like Real Men and lashing
out at the women who won’t let them. Whenever men feel like masculinity
is under attack, men get dangerous. Because that’s exactly what
masculinity teaches you to do, what masculinity is about. Defending
yourself with disproportionate force against any loss of power? That’s
what masculinity is... I’m afraid of masculinity, and
privilege, of the male sense of “honor” they combine to create, and the
incredible reservoir of madness that “honor” can unleash when it’s
threatened. Of how incredibly petty the offense can be and how insanely
disproportionate the retaliation can be."
Yes, this.
Chu points out, the ugliness of their rhetorical chest-thumping and behavior (doxxing, threatening, harassing) is in direct proportion to their desperation. They know they can't win. They know they're on the wrong side of history.
Remember Davis Aurini, Matt Forney's hiking chum, clad head to heel in black, his bald, naked pate gleaming under the blazing sun of the Arizona desert?
With #gamergate, Aurini is hustling for funds to complete his documentary "The Sarkeesian Effect," and he's apparently raised $9000 so far.
Aurini, the Ed Wood of the manosphere, is always a ripe subject for ridicule. Many have had their way with him, including David Futrelle and myself in a previous post because he is so deliciously weird and pretentious. Futrelle has compared him to Anton LeVey. but I think he is as campy as John Waters. Although Aurini actually seems to believe the terrible crap he spouts, I can't help but have a soft spot for someone who can make me laugh as hard as he (inadvertently) does. And I'm not alone -- watch this:
This video is the best, but wait, it gets even better! Aurini actually responded to this assault on his dignity:
I've
had people asking me to respond to this video, but I really don't see
anything to respond to. From what I can tell, it's nothing but a bunch
of insults and snark coming from some anonymous hyena... I suppose the
$15k for making a movie thing is worth addressing - but really, all I
have to do is point towards the budget of any movie you care to name to
demonstrate how expensive it is. Jordan I will be doing a video shortly
updating our Patreon supporters on everything including the financing,
but really, it's a paltry budget. He's just bringing it up to try and
undermine the project.
Criticize the project? Fine. But don't insult my intelligence by claiming that @Aurini and @jordanowen42 are trying to scam people.
Sometimes
I seriously wonder if the manosphere isn't just a venue for frustrated
performance artists. It's comforting at least to be reminded that they
really are a bunch of buffoons.
Randi Harper
