No, Not YOU.

Dear Man,

I understand that hearing about the #YesAllWomen thing isn’t easy. I understand that hearing things about how the vast majority of violence is perpetrated by those humans of the male persuasion, and how people who are not men are sometimes wary of you, because you happen to share a gender with ‘those guys,’ can feel like an attack.

And you know what? I’m sorry. I’m sorry that it feels like an attack on you. I’m sorry that we don’t have a better way to frame it, than to talk about men doing bad things. I’m sorry that it makes you feel like you ought to feel guilty for simply being a man, because you shouldn’t.

When you read the thing about the 10% of these yummy candies that are poison, I actually do understand how that can feel kind of icky, for you.

Because (and I am explicitly not talking to that 10%, now), you probably aren’t ‘that guy.’ You probably read the things written by people who aren’t men under the YesAllWomen hashtag, and they are horrifying to you. You probably don’t yell out at random people who are not men on the street, DAAAAAMN! LOOKIT DATASS!! thus making them feel threatened and objectified and conspicuous and afraid without their consent. You probably don’t get someone drunk in order to take advantage of them. You probably never raped anyone. You probably never hit a partner without their consent. You were probably socialized to believe that it’s simply not okay to rape or abuse or harass or assault someone, and the very idea that someone might believe that of you, just because you are a man, is probably deeply hurtful and offensive.

And I get that. I really do. I actually ache for the good, innocent men who, hearing about all of this, feel somehow ashamed of themselves because they’re men.

What we need you to understand, though, what we’ve been trying really hard to explain to you, is that this really is not about you. Unless you are one of ‘those guys,’ who does those shitty, dehumanizing, abusive things, this isn’t about you. What we need you to understand is, we already know that it is not all men who are doing these busted things. It’s just, we thought that part went without saying.

The problem is, the people who do this sort of thing, the vast, overwhelming majority of the time, do happen to be men. And they don’t exactly self-identify. I’m pretty sure that never in the history of everdom has this ever happened:

Hi! My name’s JoeBob. Can I buy you a drink? Oh, by the way, before you answer, you should probably know that, last year I beat my ex-wife so badly that she spent six days in the hospital, and last month I raped my best friend’s partner, and just on the way over here, I loomed over a random chick at a bus stop, demanding that she reply to my crass and unwanted comments about her appearance, and I got some other chick so drunk she could barely walk, at this very bar, last night, then took her back to my place and fucked her brains out, and called her a cab and poured her into it before she could even sober up. And that’s kind of my plan for you, too. So… about that drink? And, hey. You’ve got a really tight ass.

See? That just doesn’t happen. Sometimes, months or years can pass without any indications, even. But we all know that the one-in-ten possibility for one or all of those things to be true exists. So, we’re afraid. Wouldn’t you be? Most of us spend the vast majority of our time in public and/or crowded places with that fear living like a little knot in our bellies. It may not be the top-of-the-brain thought, but it is never not there. It can’t be, because getting rid of that wariness, that caution, is dangerous, for us.

And that probably makes you a little sick. Sex, love, and (for some of us) kink, are freaking awesome. They’re kind of sacred in some way, to most of us. That this happens within those somewhat sacred spaces is probably enough to make your brains scream against the reality. And you probably don’t feel very good about seemingly being lumped in with ‘those guys.’

You may believe that the term “patriarchy” somehow indicates that you,personally, are actively oppressing women. You may have gotten the idea that the term “male privilege” is an insult which means you don’t get to have an opinion, or that it entirely neglects the myriad other disadvantages with which you may be faced.

The thing is, NONE OF THOSE THINGS ARE TRUE.

One, most of those of us who are speaking out in this way actually do understand that not all men do these things. Two, “patriarchy” doesn’t mean that ALL men have equal shares of the power and constantly oppress people who aren’t men, only that the society is, and has always been structured, by certain men, in such a way that it is undeniably and especially oppressive towards people who are not men, and that the culture, as a whole (not you, specifically), perpetuates that oppression, almost always in ways that benefit most men, at least in part. Three, “male privilege” is not an insult. Usually, when it is invoked during a discussion, it is because a man is trying to tell people who are not men that the validity of their actual experiences is questionable or invalid, because it doesn’t line up with the life he has lived. And of COURSE it doesn’t line up, because he hasn’t been on the receiving end of the assault, the harassment, the abuse, the hijacking of personal agency, that comes with being something other than a man. He doesn’t know that fear, or that sense of resigned inevitability.

None of those things is an attack on you, personally. Whether it feels that way or not.

But I do understand the need to distinguish yourself from ‘that guy.’ And there are absolutely ways that you can do that. It’s just that, jumping into a conversation about how all people who aren’t men have been at the receiving end of some such shittiness, and demanding that the conversation center around you, by telling us something that We. Already. Know, is not one of those ways, and not likely to convince anybody that you aren’t ‘that guy.’

See, that conversation has a point. The point is not to attack all men, or you, personally. The point is to draw attention to how very messed up it is that yes, all people who aren’t men have experienced these things, at the hands of people who are almost exclusively male. The point is to try to find ways to make that stop happening. And make no mistake, the decrease or cessation of that kind of outright or subtle hostility will be good for you, too. Because, on the glorious day when that becomes the reality (or, at least, more of the norm than the exception), you will no longer feel any need to remind us that it isn’t all men. Because it will no longer be that all of the rest of us are living in that kind of fear.

We don’t want to mistrust or fear or resent you, if you’re not ‘that guy.’ We get no fun or entertainment out of being constantly afraid to walk down the street alone, or to have a drink or three in a bar, or to open up our damned inboxes, or even to speak the truth about our experiences. Contrary to what some men (certainly ‘that guy’ types) want you to believe, there is no prize for being forced to go through all this shit.

The only way in which this conversation is about you, is that we’re asking for your help. If you aren’t ‘that guy,’ there are ways to put that across, as I mentioned before.

The first is really simple. Or, at least, it seems that way, in black and white.

Listen.

Yep. That’s the big one. Listen to what is being said. Understand that, while it may differ from the way the world reacts to you, that doesn’t mean it is inaccurate. Listen. Turn down the defensiveness, and turn up the empathy. Care about the perspective of the person who is speaking enough to not try and shift the discussion to how it affects you.

Generally speaking, if someone who isn’t a man is venting to you, about this, it’s because they trust you. Because they believe you aren’t ‘that guy.’ Because they feel safe and comfortable enough with you to tell you what it is like to be them.It’s okay to say, Fuck, that’s awful. It makes me feel really bad about the way that some men treat women. It’s not okay to say, Butbutbut I’M NOT LIKE THAT AND HOW DARE YOU ACCUSE ME!!! Because that’s reframing the conversation. It’s missing the point. It’s taking away the safe place to speak and be heard, and making it all about you and your concerns – almost always unfounded – about possible guilt-by-association.

So stop defending, and start listening.

The second thing you can do is to recognize that there is actually a problem, and it’s a gendered problem, whether we like it or not. There are threats to safety that we all face, as humans. This isn’t that. These are specific threats that happen so much more often to people other than men, it is obviously something that is directly related to gender. That is NOT to say that men don’t face threats. It is NOT to say that those problems aren’t worth addressing. It is to say that these discussions, difficult as this may be to accept, are NOT the place for those things. Again, that is shifting the focus, and this issue deserves its own space.

Third, while you probably aren’t ‘that guy,’ you probably know someone who is. And you know, that’s not just you. We know some of ‘those guys,’ too. And all of us have probably, at least at one point or another, heard the ‘that guy’ we know say some busted shit, or seen him do some busted shit… and said nothing. That’s the way it used to be. We’re trying to make that not be the way it is.

So, when that guy you know, who happens to be ‘that guy,’ harasses a woman at a bar because she told him she’s not interested, or turns around to follow someone who isn’t a man on the street, telling that person how hot they are, then berating them for not responding to his ‘compliments,’ or tries to coerce an inebriated person into having sex with him, when they’re too drunk to consent, or makes a joke about how it isn’t rape if she’s unconscious, or does any number of other things that you now know is oppressive or abusive or harassing to those of us who aren’t men, speak up.

You don’t have to attack. You can simply say, “You know, when you do those things, it makes me really uncomfortable. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t do them, or at least didn’t do them around me.

Is that a really uncomfortable conversation to have? Of course it is. The thing is, we are having it, too. But ‘that guy?’ He doesn’t really listen much to those of us who aren’t men. So, your voices have more power, with him, more sway. Your opinion of him matters much more, most of the time, than ours does. You are less likely to face danger, and more likely to be heard, than we are. That doesn’t mean we’re lumping you in with him, or making you responsible for his behavior. It’s just that we’d like for there to not be any reason to keep having these discussions, too. And we think we hear you saying you’d like the same thing. And this is one possible way that you can help.

Can you face some repercussions for speaking up? Sure. People don’t generally like being called on their shit. You may face ridicule, or ostracism. They may question your masculinity. But if they’re the type of guy who believes that caring about other people makes you somehow less manly, why in the world would you want to maintain those friendships? You know, we face those issues too, when we call them out. On top of that, we face accusations of being irrational, moody, having our period, being bitches, being cunts, being too sensitive. We face possible harassment, stalking, threats of bodily harm or death, or actual bodily harm.

“Men are afraid that women will laugh at them. Women are afraid that men will kill them” – Margaret Atwood

Last, realize that, though #YesAllWomen isn’t about you, this is your issue, too. Jackson Katz has spoken about this far more eloquently than I can, so I’m going to drop his wonderful TED talk in, here. (I know, you’ve probably seen this link before, and not clicked on it, not watched the whole thing. I’m asking you, please,take the time to watch it from beginning to end. The message is so very important, and if you care about the people who are being hurt by this, you need to see it.)

Violence against women is a men’s issue

TL:DR

Yes, we know it isn’t all men. Telling us that, in the middle of the conversation, doesn’t convince anyone that it isn’t you.

For the Good Men Who Don’t Yet Get It

I keep having this discussion with a man whom I love. He’s a good man. A man for whom consent is very important. A man who is utterly and completely horrified by the abuse, assault, rape, and other damaging things that some men do to women. A man who has done more to help me, personally, be able to trust that it really isn’t “all men,” than any other man I’ve ever known. A man who has stood up, in a very public fashion, spoken out, loudly and unapologetically, against abuse, assault, rape, rape culture, and those who enable them, in a way that exposed him to ridicule, cost him social outlets and friendships, and led to him being ostracized, right beside me, from our community.

 

know where he stands. I’ve seen it in action, seen him in action.

 

But there are parts of this that he still doesn’t get. It causes a lot of… I won’t say “arguments,” because that doesn’t seem quite right, but… very heated debates, between us.

 

One of the most persistent dissonances we face is around the #notallmen thing. On another site, someone I respect a great deal posted this image. Things like that have popped up, before. The ten percent of these yummy candies are cyanide, but you won’t know which ones until you take a bite, analogy, and others. Every time, he was offended. And no matter how I tried to explain to him that it really wasn’t about him, he couldn’t see it as any other thing than a blanket statement that all men, himself included, are not to be trusted, no matter how trustworthy they actually are.

 

He still doesn’t. And it’s hard, for me. For us.

 

It’s hard because he’s an intelligent person. Hell, he’s brilliant. His intelligence is actually kind of intimidating, sometimes. It’s hard because he’s an empathetic person. As a part of another thing, I wrote an account of all of the horrible things that were done to me, mostly by men, throughout the last thirty-plus years of my life. He was crying, nauseated, and shaking uncontrollably, by the time he finished reading it. He is both of those things, and he still doesn’t get it. And it breaks my heart, because that has become such a conversational minefield, we can’t even discuss that part of the advocacy in which I engage on a regular basis. Every time we try, I end up in tears of frustration and helplessness, and he ends up feeling attacked, and equally frustrated.

 

It’s hard because I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that he’s not ‘that guy,’ but when those topics come up, he says all the same things ‘that guy’ would say. It’s hard because I feel like I can’t get through to him on this, and we normally just don’t have that problem. I’d say our communication is our strongest quality, as an ‘us.’ This is alien to us, and it’s awful, and I hate it.

 

Yesterday, we watched a movie together. Lone Survivor. It’s a war movie, based on a true story, and somewhat controversial. Some people are saying it is pro-war propaganda. I’m not going into that, right now.

 

If you haven’t seen the film, and plan to, here’s your spoiler alert.

 

The protagonist, Marcus Luttrel, is a Navy Seal, on a mission with his team in Afghanistan. The mission is compromised. The gunfight is horrific. They are outnumbered beyond all reason, and survive beyond what anyone could ever expect. Every other member of his team is killed by Afghan soldiers. Luttrell is brutally wounded, left for dead, and on the run, trying to get back to the American camp through unfamiliar mountainous terrain.

 

He stumbles on some water, falls in, and is recovering, when he hears voices. More Taliban soldiers. One Afghan citizen, Mohammed Gulab, comes to his aid. He has no choice but to accept, in his dire circumstances, but he has no way of knowing if he can trust Gulab. All of his experiences in this unfamiliar place, with these unfamiliar people, have so far been of being shot at, seeing his friends killed, hearing the horror stories of the Taliban.

 

Gulab saved Luttrell’s life, at the risk of not only his own life, but those of his child, and his entire village.

 

But Luttrell had no way to know that would happen, until it happened. He had no experience which would lead him to trust this man who was offering help. For a time, after Gulab held out his hand to lead Luttrell to safety, the SEAL kept a grenade in his hand, ready to throw at a moment’s notice. He kept asking, still clutching the grenade, “Why are you helping me?”

 

It was a difficult movie to watch, but during that sequence, I recognized the parallels.

 

Not all of the citizens of Afghanistan were hell-bent on killing American soldiers. But they all spoke the same language. They all wore similar clothing. They all lived in a way that was alien to Luttrell, and he had no way to know which ones were which, until he had the opportunity to build trust with Gulab.

 

His mistrust and fear were not a statement of judgment against Gulab. They were not an indictment of the entire citizenry of Afghanistan. They were born out of repeated experiences, with other Afghan citizens, and HE HAD EVERY RIGHT TO BE AFRAID AND SLOW TO TRUST. Gulab didn’t get defensive. He didn’t yell at Luttrell for not trusting him, or for being afraid. He just did what it took to show that he could be trusted. That he wasn’t one of ‘those guys.’ Not by words; they shared no common language. He showed him through his actions. 

 

And that is how we show people we are trustworthy every day, in a plethora of situations, across our life experience. We don’t stand there and stomp our feet, demanding that people give us their trust, just because we say so. We earn it. Not by running some contrived gauntlet, but simply by doing what we do. We behave as we would normally behave, and leave it up to them to determine whether we are trustworthy, and not to be feared. In almost every other situation, we recognize that it is not up to us to decide whether or not we are trustworthy to someone else, but to the person whose trust we hope to gain.

 

We ALL realize that not all men are rapists. That not all men are abusers. That not all men are misogynists. We do. What the people who keep yelling about #notallmen fail to realize is, that is not the point. The point is, we have no way to know. You speak the same language. You wear the same clothes. The rapists and abusers and misogynists among you look no different than the rest.

 

And they demand things. They demand our trust, without earning it. They demand our agency, when they have no right to it. They demand sex, as payment on some social contract that we never signed. And when we don’t give those things to them willingly, they take it. Or coerce us. Or stomp their feet, and tell us we have no right not to give it to them.

 

So, when you demand that we trust you, on nothing more than your word, without the experience of seeing you in action, you sound like them, too.

 

#YesAllWomen is NOT about judging every single man who ever lived by the same standard. It’s about our fear, our experience, our very valid reasons to be wary. It’s about us asking for you to hear that, to listen, to empathize… and to be patient with us, while we watch and wait to see if it is safe to let down our guard. Which we will, as soon as we feel reasonably confident that it’s okay, that you’re not ‘that guy.’

 

It’s about the moments between you holding out your hand, and us being secure enough to put down the grenade.

 

Maybe #notallmen, but #yesallMRAs

This stuff isn’t exactly original thought, guys.

The label MRA does mean something. I won’t attack or insult, but only provide facts.

One of the oldest men’s rights organizations in existence, The National Coalition For Men (originally Free Men, Inc., founded in 1977 – OFF the internet), now has an online presence, like most organizations in the information age. As of the time of this post, the first article is, NCFM files complaint of sexism with National Public Radio (NPR). I read it. Then I did some research about sexism in NPR, and found this, a 2010 study conducted by the NPR, which reveals a strong sexist bias in the gender of on-air commentators, and people interviewed by NPR reporters. The strong sexist bias can be summed up in two quotes:

 …we compiled a list of regular commentators, who are not NPR employees but are paid to appear on air. There are 12 outside commentators who appeared at least 20 times in the last 15 months. The only woman is former NPR staffer, Cokie Roberts (51 times), who is on ME most Mondays talking politics.

For this analysis, we examined 104 shows, using a ‘constructed week’* sampling technique from April 13, 2009 to Jan. 9, 2010. Those figures are equally discouraging. NPR listeners heard 2,502 male sources and 877 female sources on the shows we sampled. In other words, only 26 percent of the 3,379 voices were female, while 74 percent were male.

Take a look at the article. For you more visual learners out there, it contains some pretty revealing charts and graphs that make it very clear where the bias was – and was not.

To address this problem, NPR gave an employee who books interviews a temporary assignment. The question she is to ask herself, when finding people to interview, or to speak on air, is, “Who’s missing from our coverage of these topics as experts, analysts, commentator or sources of stories?”

In 2012, this piece was written. Here’s another quote:

Of the roughly 60 works of fiction discussed on NPR, only about 20 were written by women. Of the six novelists featured on more than one program, all but Amy Waldman, author of The Submission, were men. Of the three novelists interviewed on more than one program, all were men. Terry Gross interviewed twice as many male as female novelists, and Morning Edition apparently dedicated no coverage at all to women fiction writers.

I couldn’t find an issue-specific article that was any more recent, but changing a bias like that takes time. So, what the NCFM is saying in their complaint is that NPR now has a bias against men? Less than two years after the Phoenix article? I find that very difficult to believe.

And this is one of the roots of the MRA platform.

Moving forward…

Now, we have such things as this, and this.

Then there’s this, in which the author assures us that the patriarchy is necessary, in order to control men, and that any harm or control of women is strictly incidental.

Any controlling of female humans in a patriarchal society is incidental. The controlling of women’s sexuality, by having social mores limiting her from having sex outside marriage, is a necessity for controlling males, but it is not the purpose of patriarchy. It is a by-product of controlling the males.

O_O

Because men can’t help themselves. They can’t keep themselves from destroying things, raping, murdering, etc., and need faithful women at home, barefoot and pregnant, to give them a reason not to be monsters. And this is one of the many voices of the MRA movement.

And we have this little jewel, which, on the top of the front page, urges us to sign a petition declaring feminism a “hate movement.” A bit further down, he calls feminists, “terrorists.”

There’s antimisandry.com, where, in the recent content, you can find this blatant mischaracterization of feminism, as a ploy to rid the world of all men.

And every last one of those sites is NOT a pua site. They are specifically, vocally, self-labelled MRA sites, heavily populated and read and disseminated by men who self-identify as MRAs.


We can go on to the red pill movement, which, at its base, sounds not too terribly bad. They claim to be anti-pua, and claim that their goal is to get men to take responsibility for the effects of their own actions.

Except… here is the “red pill constitution.”


 

Except… there are all of these quotes, from the red pill reddit (skip this if you don’t want to feel ill, or be triggered by rampant misogyny and rape culture at work)

87GNX

But if you’re at all LTR oriented there is gold to be had in pairing off with a gal who’s a bit overweight, gaining control of the relationship, and pushing her to slim down. Ideally this nets you a fit chick without the ego complex that comes from having been a fit chick since junior high.

SkorchZang

Here’s a hoe, use it however you want and are able. That’s the RP way.

vandaalen

Women are like children. A woman of average mental health is not doing the things she’s doing because she is evil, but because it’s her nature and she is programmed to do so. She is an emotional thinker and therefore she hamsters. She hamsters and therefore she creates drama. And if nobody stops her and teaches her in the right time than she will end up on tumbler and propagate all the shit she propagates.

SkorchZang

Fuck good feminism. Fuck bad feminism. Fuck equality. TRP men are interested in the truth, and the truth is that there are no “good women” in the world, no equality, and no social justice.

wirevision

Now, many have already pointed out how TRP could have helped someone like Rodgers by teaching him ways to get the thing he desperately wanted, thereby preventing his rage.

RedPillDad

[Rodgers] had more in common with the feminist movement than it ever did with the manosphere.
That nails it. He was a pretty boy (and a narcissistic puke) struggling to be a man.
Girls can be raised as sheltered princesses and it can all work out for them. Raise a boy that way and you can get a broken piece of shit like this. You can give your son a storybook childhood where he’s always told “You’re special” every single day. I would rather be the father telling him “You’re a dumb-ass.”

Edit: This little puke was scary similar to my oldest son. My wife worshiped the ground he walked on and acted like his personal slave, until he eventually turned into a complete ass. Not that it was her fault, because I didn’t have a redpill clue back then.

da-way

If there is such a thing a rape culture then why are only 1/4 [sic] women raped in their lifetime and not 10/10 and multiple times. Also if half the shit feminists say about males were true, then shootings like this would be a daily occurrence.

knitro

The thing about entitlement is without it, nothing happens. Since guys makes the overwhelming majority of ‘first moves’ what you realize is that the guy has to assume the sale when going to the kiss or bang or whatever. As the recipient, it’s on the woman to clearly hit the brakes when it’s not what she wants.

greycloud24

i said it would be less bad, not that it would be good to kill a different group of people than the one he did. and i didn’t say fat women, i said people who spread fat acceptance. you see not many people want to touch a fat woman, and a lot of people don’t even want to be in their presence. when 6 out of 10 women are unfuckable, it drastically increases the value of the other 4. this guy was failing because for every 3 guys that want to get with a decent woman, there is only one decent woman. this is a result of fat acceptance. fat should not be accepted, people should be told that it is bad to be in the unfuckable group. instead they say that they should be accepted for being in that group, which is fine on an individual level, its not until we start looking at the bigger picture that it becomes a problem.
fat acceptance is what creates a significant amount of the ability of women to be hypergamous. but this is fueled by guys who don’t like fat women. you can ask men to change their standards and you can ask women to not be fatties in order to break this larger pattern. but this kid was at the point where he was going to kill people. my problem is that for one, nobody should ever be at this point. we as a society failed this kid by allowing conditions to be so bad that he preferred a murder/suicide to life. and we also failed him by not catching his problems earlier and helping him before he boiled over. this kid failed society as well, he was in control of his own life and didn’t find an adequate fix (like i said, his best option would have been to go to another country and get an arranged marriage, he failed to take that option).
so i am not saying it would be good if he killed fat acceptance people. what i am saying is that the problem he had is a result of fat acceptance people, and if he was going to lash out at society, he should at least lash out at the people that caused his problems.

yummybits

Well then you’re missing the whole point of TRP. Women do see us in the same way we see them. If you think all need is looks and think that looks will give you top pussy, then you’re mistaking. Just because we’re are (men) almost exclusively attracted to looks doesn’t mean that women are attracted to the exact same thing, thinking so is pure projection. Looks for them do not matter as much, this is actually why we have an advantage over them, as we can almost always improve ourselves in different ways and that’s where TRP comes in, while women can’t and it’s pretty much all genetics for them, like you said.
Again, I’m not denying that looks don’t matter at all and that you should become a land whale and don’t try to improve yourself physically, I’m just saying that they play a smaller part in men’s overall attractiveness, as oppose to women’s attractiveness where it’s almost all looks.

pleasedontknowme30

For example, I would rank myself 7.25. I could fuck a 5 in the ass with only taking her to mc donalds if I wanted. However, if another guy that was a 5 tried to pull that off he would be rejected. Girls rarely fuck “below them” I have gotten with girls above me in attractiveness however that was mainly because they were drawn to my personality or had a “thing” for Indian dudes.
Something else to consider is the bar for women is always rising. You could have an 8 that has been treated like shit by guys for years. Guys who don’t do shit for her. Just cause she is an 8 doesn’t mean she does nasty shit or is a freak. Maybe she has never been given many compliments, or had someone. Maybe one guy does something nice for her, out of the ordinary for her. She will be smitten with him. The next guy steps it up a touch, and holds her hand, or goes out of his way to make sure she is sexually satisfied. Each time that happens, she is going to let herself open up more for that individual because he set a new bar for her in men. So maybe she didn’t take it in the ass with assholes #1-5, but guy #6 who did a couple decent things for her and made her cum hard…well he gets into door #2. Just another way to think about it

trplurker 1 point an hour ago

Umm there are very real reasons. The older the women is the most men she’s fucked and the more often she’s swung branch’s. Eventually they get the “thousand cock stare” where they only view men as tools to please her. It’s a simple function of statistics, the longer she’s been sexually active the more opportunities for partners and thus the higher average partner count and the higher chance of “single mother syndrome” happening. Younger girls have lower expectations, lower maintenance and statistically less partners. They have an easier time bonding and aren’t as quick to cock hop as she hasn’t fully mastered the ability to hamster.
Women never mature past 19~23. Emotionally and mentally they will always be teenagers, always short sighted and wanting that next hit of drama and the hormones that come with it.
That is core TRP.

JP_Whoregan

Shit gets so much better after high school. Trust me. Finding this place at your age is giving you such an upper hand it’s ridiculous. The fact of the matter is, unless you’re on the football team, have rich parents, are ridiculously good looking, or just an all around stud, you’re gonna have a very hard time bagging high quality 18 year olds at your age, because all the HB8-9 women at your school are out banging 24 and 25 year old “douchebags” (like a lot of the guys here). It has everything to do with SMV; at 18-23, these women are peaking their SMV. As an 18 year old male, you’re nowhere near your peak SMV.
The good news is it only gets better for you as you get older (provided you take care of yourself, make money, and basically have your shit together), while these rejection-monkey cunts that are giving you a hard time will slam the wall hard and be pining for your dick once that bio-clock starts drying up her eggs.

The good news is, you’ll be doing the rejecting, because you will be the 25 year old guy banging 19 year olds.

You’re a senior? The girls you’ll be banging in the future are in your current freshman class.

yuanhua

What if our forefathers were onto something. If women are given as much freedom of thought as feminists want, they will naturally destroy their own value and expect men to pick up the shit. So men treated women like second class citizens for the good of the realm.


So, here you go. When you self-label as a men’s right’s activist, the things you’ve read above are the movement with which you’re aligning yourself.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I absolutely believe men should have equal rights. I think that, while men are in no way as systemically oppressed as women, there absolutely are some busted things that our culture does to men.

I think that we should stop socializing our children to believe in the men-as-hunters/women-as-gatekeepers paradigm of sexuality.

I believe that we should stop treating the rape of men as a laughing matter, or a non-entity. It is neither. Rape inarguably does happen to men, too, and it is just as heinous and horrible and worthy of discussion as it is when it happens to women.

I believe that the binary gender roles perpetuated by the current patriarchal system harm men, too.

And I want all of those things to change.

But I cannot see a self-identified MRA, without seeing what the movement stands for, publicly, unapologetically, and every single day. The label has been indelibly corrupted, and feminists didn’t do that. Men, self-identifying as MRAs, did. Don’t hate on us because of something they did to a label that could have been worthwhile.

No. Not all men oppress women.

Yes. I will still react with disdain when faced with MRAs, or their rhetoric. Change the movement, or change the label, but stop with the chest pounding towards us,about the way other men have corrupted the identifier.


update 6/26:  Perhaps I am behind the learning curve, a bit. I’ve only just discovered donotlink, and don’t wish to give the misogynists any more web traffic than they already receive, even from those who would fight against their bullshit. So, all links to MRA sites have been edited with that in mind. You can still see the material, without giving them added power on search engines.

Update 1/16/18 – donotlink.com is permanently down. I’ve restored those links from there to which I maintained access, or which did not disappear in the meantime.

Excluded, and STILL not shutting up

We learn a lot of lessons, throughout our lives. Some lessons are helpful, some harmful. Some of both are useful. Many times, the lessons we pack up in our childhoods, and carry out into the world as we seek our fortunes, are entirely busted, damaging internal monologues. Sometimes, we are fortunate enough to be able to see those destructive and limiting things for what they are, through some epiphany or slowly dawning awareness. Some of them, we may not ever recognize, or if we do, we may not have the power to do away with them.

And some of them we identify, battle, and in the best cases, overcome, with lots of introspection, conversation, research, and hard, often thankless, usually emotionally exhausting work.

I learned very early in life that things were my responsibility. All the things. If they went wrong, it was bound to be my fault, somehow. If someone was angry, I had done something to either cause or contribute to it. If I was part of a conflict, it was my job to apologize and make amends and do whatever it took to stop the contention, even if that meant admitting to being wrong when I wasn’t. It was my job to make peace.

Logically, I’ve known, for some time, that such is not the case. Apparently, the little gremlins in my head, the ones who were born to remind me how it was all my fault, didn’t get the memo. They like to point to every piece of anything that exists anywhere, and try to twist it, if necessary, to put me back in my place. That place where I placate. Where I give in to whatever everyone else wants, regardless of how I feel or what I believe, to make peace. To keep everyone liking me, and not be alone, and make as many people as possible happy, no matter what happens to me, in the process.

The last year has been a whirlwind I never could have imagined. The last six months has been a whirlwind encapsulated in a raging forest fire. It has swept away almost all of the life I knew, bit by bit, and every new piece that blew away was another devastating kick in the gut. Another chance for the gremlins to rear their nasty little heads. Every e-mail or criticism or discarded friendship (no matter which party did the discarding) was another week, another month, another three months, of picking apart everything I’d said, everything I’d written, everything I’d done, trying to find evidence to support the gremlins. Trying hard. I wanted it to be my fault. That? It’s easy. I know how to handle it. I know how to address the things I screwed up, even when I really didn’t. I have had loads of practice making peace.

About a month ago, the latest big blow fell. I just didn’t realize it, at the time. I simply thought this particular friend, who has always had a tendency to be sort of unresponsive to phone communication, was doing her usual thing. It turns out, my relationship choices with other people led her to decide that she wanted nothing else to do with me (…and, no, to you straw-grasping simpletons, this is not the ‘same thing,’ but I will get to that bit, soon enough.). I only discovered this about a week or so ago, and have been spending a large portion of the intervening time, once again, revisiting every thing I’ve ever written about consent, about safe spaces, about enabling and apologists and rape culture and victim blaming and every other piece of this thing I’ve felt moved to put down in words. I re-read all of the various Fet-mail threads with the people I once considered chosen family and close friends. I replayed telephone conversations in my head. I tried very hard to find the place where I had gone wrong.

Was my tone sometimes harsh? Um… have you met me? Snark and sarcasm, dry humor and somewhat sharp tones are a part of nearly everything I write. Don’t believe me? Here are a few quotes from some of my attempts at erotica:

  • “It’s Sunday, one of the agreed-upon days, so I left the fluffy pup sound asleep in his open crate, whimpering slightly, obviously dreaming doggie dreams of squirrels and hot St. Bernard girls.”
  • “True story. Names have been omitted to protect the….well, shit. Never mind. i just left out the names, that’s all.”
  • “The masochist in me, however, wanted no part of that whiny little loser twat.”
  • “A random thought… When did He manage to pull that out? …flitted across my mind, as his cock slammed into my throat…
  • ‘What are you enjoying? What is it that has you so soaking wet? Hmmm?’

Inwardly, I groaned. He was going to make me talk. I didn’t want to talk, dammit, and it hurt to make words. It hurt my brain to try to think of the right words to string together to make him understand the part of me that was actually angry with him for being so tender, after building me up to the brutality for which I hungered in spite of myself. I wanted to be eloquently gutter-mouthed. I wanted my words to spur him on to hurt me even more.
‘The pain, Sir,’ I croaked. Derp.

And all of ↑that↑? Was when I was trying to be sexy. O.o

I snark. It’s simply what I do. I do it when I write, when I speak… hell, I am pretty sure that I do it in my dreams. Furthermore, it really is not anyone else’s place to tell me that my tone, speaking as a victim and survivor and advocate for other victims and survivors, is inappropriate. If you don’t like it, you absolutely do not have to read it. You can go away, and I promise the internet won’t die, nor the rotation of the globe come screeching to a halt. Cross my heart. You aren’t the arbiter of appropriate tones. Nobody died and/or appointed you the polite police. You simply don’t get to tell me which tone is most appropriate for conveying what I want to convey, nor that what I was trying to convey is something other than specifically what I say it is. You don’t get to outlaw or define either my intent or my tone.

Was my content harsh? You betcha. I’m not talking about puppies and rainbows. I’m talking about harsh, gritty reality. Not just reality, but the nasty, slimy underbelly that so many don’t want to see. We don’t often want to know that the monster under the bed is our own complacence or complicity or entitlement. You don’t bring those things to the light of day with auto-generated Chopra platitudes. These things aren’t meant to be a soft, gentle caress. They’re a slap in the face. A wake-up call. The acrid odor of smelling salts. Nobody is under any obligation to make that pretty or comfortable for you, nor to care if you take offense. It isn’t pretty, and it’s too damned comfortable for too many people, already. Making enough people uncomfortable enough to create a cultural shift is kind of the point.

Did I make some very polarizing statements, lay out some black-and-white choices, and give ultimatums? Yep. There aren’t very many things in life that are absolutes, black and white, right and wrong. Rape, abuse, assault, and other consent violations are wrong, mmmkay? Doesn’t matter what you meant to do. If you unintentionally violated someone’s consent, then you fucked up. Either you own it, and do your best to alleviate whatever harm was done, or you’re an egotistical ass, and I give precisely zero fucks for your reputation, in light of your total lack of empathy or accountability. You run a venue without a clear-cut and accessible consent policy? Ass. No fucks given. You tell victims and survivors that it’s no big deal if they got violated, as long as they don’t kick up a fuss, because, after all, we’re all adults, here? Ass. No fucks. You value the hypothetical reputations of a very, very few, over the safety and personal agency and physical autonomy of the many? You preach “personal responsibility” to real and suffering victims of other people’s predatory or otherwise shitty behavior, but blame all the cray-cray bitches for the supposed plague of hypothetical “false accusations?” Asshole. The only fuck you get is off.

I will not apologize for that. Not one damned bit of it. I’m NOT sorry.

See, in going back through all of what I had to say, I saw this evolution. The first time out, the one that pissed off so many people because ultimatums? I was making a very real effort to be nice. I read through the comments thread twice. Unless someone was an absolute asshat, I was even placatory. Trying to keep the peace, even with people whose views and ‘contributions’ made me feel dirty and like I might throw up a little in my mouth. Bending over backwards to assure everyone that even if they disagreed with something that is, to me, a very clear-cut instance of right/wrong, I’d still pet their precious egos, and allow them in my life.

Going back much, much further? I found a pretty long string of that, much of it with some of the very people participating in that thread. Two of them made up what I once, as a relative newbie, considered one of the local ‘power-couples,’ who were role models, leaders, or what-have-you. They were the first ones to whom I ever voiced a concern about the way we brushed things under the rug, something like seven or eight years ago. I swallowed the don’t-stir-the-pot thing like a bitter pill, even then, but I kept my mouth shut. They weren’t just enablers. They were actively silencing anyone who would even attempt to speak up about something that was obviously and heinously broken.

And there I was, trying to reassure them that I would maintain friendships, even though they were, from positions of influence, preaching a code of silence that I found ethically abhorrent. Sure. We were friends. I helped them out, sometimes. They helped me out, sometimes. I was grateful when they helped, and vice versa. I mourned the loss of the friendships pretty hard. But I got rid of that nasty taste that my association with their pandering, condescending, silencing bullshit left in my mouth. I could live with myself. I may have all the love in the world for someone, but I’ve reached a point where no association is worth feeling like a hypocrite. Feeling like I am being untrue to myself.

There was another, one who took umbrage to my tone, to my ultimatums, and how the butthurt burned! Funny thing. On a thread discussing a different, but also completely horrid type of oppression, this very same person was asked who they were, to say that people were either “with them or against them.” And they replied with something along the lines of, It’s either yes or no. There is no third option. Hmmm. Sounds suspiciously familiar, but I guess that only applies whenyou are the one who is being harmed by the status quo. Fuck everybody else, AMIRITE?

I guess I missed the day when the arbiters of all things right and wrong waved their sparkly magic wands and deemed some people more worthy of being free of oppression than others. Oops. I’ll dock my assistant’s pay for that scheduling snafu.

Anyway, I was trying to get my point across in as palatable a fashion as possible, without sacrificing either my friendships or my conscience.

I was lambasted. Called a bully, of all things. Because we all know that the people with less power are always the bullies. I lost several friends. The smarmers came oozing out of the fake stone walls of their dungeons to talk about “polite discourse,” and how many sides there are to every story, like it’s a math word problem in some old textbook.

If rapist A leaves the party at 1:45 a.m., travelling East, and rapist B leaves the party at 3:10 a.m., travelling Northwest, how many people can screech about personal responsibility to the victim, before both rapists are safely tucked into their beds?

The Mutt and Jeff of straw men, LYNCH MOBS! and WITCH HUNTS! were trotted out. Little life-tip? If you use those comparisons to represent anything less than actual, heinous tortures and murders and societal approbation of horrific injustices? You’re a twunt, with no concept of nuance or discernment, and should probably step away from the internet, posthaste and permanently. Your point of view is morally indefensible, and your comparisons are absurd.

On we go, and my Owner and Lover, -Bishop-, posted his position. He didn’t fuck around with the niceties. He was pretty clearly stating that he chose not to be friends with anyone who would choose to be friends with a known abuser – in this case, the man who abused me. I was pretty astonished at some of the sources of the pushback. It wasn’t because they disagreed with his ethical stance, so much as it was them being personally affronted by being asked to take a public stand. There was a fuckton of “You can’t make me and I’m taking my toys and going home!” Loads more accusations of bullying, witch hunts, and lynch mobs.

Here’s the explanation I promised, earlier. No. My former friend choosing to turn her back on me, because of other friendships I had ended, is not the same as what Bishop and I did. Why? Because I didn’t abuse anyone. I didn’t rape anyone. I didn’t violate anyone’s hard limits. I didn’t assault anyone. Everyone has the right to choose with whom they wish to associate. You don’t want to be my friend, that’s fine. But don’t try to act like you’re on some moral high ground. If our friendship ended over my stance on consent, that’s not a place you occupy.

I get it. In many of our communities, popularity is the only currency you have. It’s much more dependent on being agreeable, kissing the right asses, knowing how to schmooze, and skill with a flogger or rope or needles than it is on having principles or ethics. And the price for popularity is not ever letting pesky little things like integrity or empathy get in the way of everyone else’s good time. It is a really clear message, and there are few of us who don’t hear it.

Be “nice.” Be “respectful.” Be “polite.” Go along to get along. Don’t stir the pot. No “drama!” Work together!

Popularity isn’t worth it, if the price is pandering to those who silence and shame victims. I spent almost nine years capitulating to that bullshit. I was a coward, then. So are all of the people still currently sacrificing their integrity on the altar of popularity. And those who are spreading the pressure to “be nice,” to “work together,” even with people whose ideas are directly contributing to the problem,are far worse than cowards. They’re bullies.

This thing to which I’ve devoted so much of my time and energy wasn’t about me. Not even in the beginning. It has always been about addressing a problem that is rampant in many, if not most, of our communities. It began as me trying to address the issues in the community I used to call my home. The person who abused me, as well as several other known predators, were still operating there with impunity. My own personal sociopath has flown south. On that level, it worked. But there are still far too many predators making that community their hunting ground. There are still far too many people to whom others look as leaders, who are perpetuating the busted silencing and shaming culture that allows them to get away with it.

By and large, it has been made pretty clear that I’m not a part of that community, anymore. That was a very hard thing, for me. I had invested an awful lot in it, over the last decade, and really loved a lot of the people with whom I no longer associate. But that wasn’t my fault, and I’m done trying to find a way to make it be my fault, so that I can fix it. Yes, I did what I did with intent. I chose to fight this battle. I didn’t have any clue that the other side would be so viciously defensive of something so obviously fucked up. I don’t regret anything I’ve done, and would do it again, in a heartbeat. It was, and remains, the right thing.

As much as I’d like to say I don’t give a damn about them, I still do. I still care about that community, and I still want to see them fix the missing stairs. Whether or not they ever decide to do so, though, I intend to keep doing what I’m doing.

BECAUSE I still care, and they’re still getting it WRONG. The way they’ve ostracized me is simply one example of how. Because what I’ve been doing ishaving an impact, and not just locally. Because this is a change that needs to happen, in ALL the kinky communities where it hasn’t, already.

And no. I won’t be “polite” about it. I won’t try to “get along” with the folks who are, even in the discussions that start as a way to encourage the changes, perpetuating the status quo. It isn’t my job to “convince” the stalwartly wrong and the terminally obtuse of a damned thing. But all of that is material for the next post, and this one’s long enough.

A Very Good Shusher

Then I read
And it hit me harder
Right in the gut
Right where I live
where I am
in this place where

I’m just supposed to shush
Be quiet.
Stop making other people
uncomfortable

Let it die
Let it pass on
from their minds
if not from my own

Let it hide
from eyes that should see
from the next one
and the next one
and the one after that
after that
after me
after her
after them

Let it skulk
in shadows
behind toothy smiles
behind shiny eyes
behind charming guile
behind clever lies

I’m supposed to shush
Be quiet.
Let them forget
Let them be
comfortable

Comfortable
next to him
next to the hands
that flailed in my face
the eyes that
pinned me to the sofa
the feet that
Fee Fi Fo Fummed
shook my house
shook the earth
shook my soul
shook me
to my core

Doors slamming
plates flying
food everywhere
Frenzy of cleaning
hiding messes
hiding tears

I’m supposed to shush
Be quiet

Which shouldn’t be a problem
not really
I learned to be
very good shusher
To appear calm
when I wanted to run
to appear still
when every molecule
of self-preservation
of self care
was dancing
skittering
like water on grease
in a skillet
turned up on high
when my muscles
my tendons
my very bones
wanted to jump
straight through my skin
to be quiet.
Quiet in spite of
the screams blazing
hairs raising
eyes glazing
with fear
with rage
with fucking silence.

I learned how to be
what you want

A very good shusher

Then
it leaked out
a drip here
a drop there
until the hole
in the dam
of the fucking
wall of shush
was too big
edges too sharp
to be contained
behind your fucking
comfort

I found out
piece by hard-earned piece
that being
good at something
doesn’t make it
right
healthy
or even okay

And it wasn’t
not for me
not for her
not for all the
thems that come after

I am good
at other things
like shouting
getting ALL
up in your grill
with truth
hard
unfuckingcomfortable
TRUTH

Can’t she just
shush
already?

She can.
She’s a very good
shusher

But she won’t
not anymore

FUCK

your comfort

I won’t be
quiet
to make it easier
for you to
straddle ethical lines

To ride those fences

I won’t shush
ever
EVER
again.

Makeup

A couple of months ago, I taught my then-13-year-old daughter how to apply makeup. She’s plagued by the same type of acne I’ve had since about age ten, so that was where we started. Concealer, for the unevenness of the pimples and the flaky skin and the scabs and the scars. Then, the foundation, to smooth things out, and make the tone as uniform as possible. A few more dabs of concealer, on the various spots that still peeked through, then some loose powder to keep everything in its place. I explained to her that makeup wasn’t about changing her face, but about bringing out, enhancing, all the natural beauty, while covering up the things that made her feel unpleasantly conspicuous. About hiding the things she didn’t want to show, and playing up the pretty.

 

I’ve written, before, about how very good I am at putting a pretty face on things. In a couple of different ways. I’ve had a ton of practice, for over thirty years. I got remarkably skilled at covering up the ugly bits, and playing up the appealing ones. It became a habit so ingrained in my psyche, I didn’t usually even realize I was doing it. If I ever thought about it, it was only to quiet my conscience, or my sense of what was right and wrong. To soothe my outrage in the interests of that passive-aggressive cornerstone of being a good Southern lady — politeness. To sacrifice my justifiable sense of violation on the altar of being a good Christian, and turning the other cheek. To ‘kill them with kindness.’ Now, every one of those phrases makes my lip curl in disgust. My gut churns, and I taste bile.

 

Polite. Unless we’re talking about holding a door or having a tea party, it makes me want to vomit. Why? Because it’s not what it seems. It’s not about the simple courtesy we show one another, as human beings, in our day to day lives. It’s about makeup. (TW: DV) It’s about plastering a smile on your face, in the face of things that make you ethically uneasy. It’s about covering up the scabby, pimply real face of an issue with smooth, uniform complacency. It’s about ignoring the existence of the infectious pus that lives just underneath that pretty exterior, or allowing it to be discussed only when the tone is soft and quiet and as un-disturbing as possible, because talking about that infection makes us uncomfortable. And you know what? That is seriously defective. We feel more uncomfortable in the face of the tone of voice used in discussing abuse, rape, assault, consent violations, or any form of oppression or discrimination than we do when faced with the horror of the acts, themselves. That is legitimately sickening.

Domestic abuse happens, every day.

Psychological abuse happens, every day.

  • 95% of men who physically abuse their intimate partners also psychologically abuse them.
  • Having a physical disability increases a woman’s risk of psychological abuse by 83%.

Rape and sexual assault happen, every day.

  • 97% of rapists will never spend a day in jail.
  • Every 2 minutes, another American is sexually assaulted.

Racial discrimination happens every day. In education:

  • Racial minorities are more likely than white students to be suspended from school, to have less access to rigorous math and science classes, and to be taught by lower-paid teachers with less experience…
  • the same racial and ethnic divide found in the nation’s K-12 schools is repeated in higher education

In healthcare:

  • Blacks received worse care than Whites for 41% of quality measures.
  • Asians and American Indians and Alaska Natives received worse care than Whites for about 30% of quality measures.
  • Hispanics received worse care than non-Hispanic Whites for 39% of measures.

(There are SO many more facets to this, and my choosing to focus on these two does NOT mean there aren’t others which are just as important.) Hate crimes happen.

  • 2012 saw the 4th highest murder rate of LGBTQ and HIV-affected people (LGBTQH) in history.

All of these things are, and should be, upsetting. They piss me off. I hope they piss you off. And I certainly hope they piss you off more than the tone in which the victims of such things choose to speak or write about them. I hope that you aren’t choosing to be more offended by the words of a victim than by that person being victimized in the first place. Because that would be shitty. Telling people who’ve been victimized and oppressed that they need to engage politely with the people who are denying the validity of their experience, or revictimizing them, or shaming, silencing, or further oppressing them, IS further victimizing and oppressing them. It’s silencing and shaming to police their tone. You do not get to dictate the level of discourse or the appropriateness of my tone, when we’re talking about me being abused or raped or victimized or oppressed. Also?

SHAME ON YOU, FOR TRYING.

It isn’t our job to make hearing or reading about our experiences more comfortable for you.