A reader recently asked me: Shouldn't we be thanking feminists for 'waking us up,' helping us to 'take a look at ourselves'?
I so wholeheartedly agree. I've even thanked feminists on this very blog. I've thanked them profusely for - at least in part - making me the man I am. I've even admitted that I used to regard myself as a feminist! I don't any more - and I'll get back to why that is - but suffice it to say that I think feminism has been admirable and served a worthy, indispensable cause.
It has given us so much. Thank you, feminism.
It continues to give. So much. Thank you, feminism.
The girls
They will give it of course
But they give with such force
That it gives you remorse
(The Girls and the Dogs, Brel/Shuman)
Feminism has really given us plenty. Yes, society needed a wake up call back at the turn of the 20th century, because - whoops! - somehow it had forgotten to give women the vote and other civil rights. In fact, the notions of civil rights and equality were still relatively new when women got the vote. They were one of the last groups to get legal equality, along with another group that didn't have legal equality either throughout most of history: men. In its infancy, liberal democracy was for rich landowners. Sure, it was about liberty and equality for all. It's just that 'all' was rather a limited concept.
RICH LIBERAL DEMOCRAT: Liberty....equality...rights....blah blah blah...!
YOUNG RONNY: Surely these principles apply to all...?
RICH LIBERAL DEMOCRAT: Yes, to all.
YOUNG RONNY: All? As in absolutely, positively everybody? All of humanity, without exception? Every last motherfucker?
RICH LIBERAL DEMOCRAT: Yes, of course. All of humanity. Within reason. Now, get over here and polish me boots, boy, or else you'll feel the sting of me whip! You'll be getting above thy station, young scallywag! I don't like the cut of yer jib!
YOUNG RONNY: Aha! But...ow! That's not fucking equality! Ouch! I'm a human being too...!
RICH LIBERAL DEMOCRAT: (stopping up, gobsmacked) What on Earth do you mean? You're just a servant!
This was the sort of elitist repression the common people had to fight against, and thus the first wave of feminism was a movement against very real injustice. I myself am a child of second wave feminism, whose agenda was a fight for women's liberation in the face of both de jure and de facto inequality. This movement notably addressed norms and stigmatisation, challenging the moral ideal of monogamous marriage and its gender roles. The greatest contribution of this second wave of feminism was probably in terms of changing social attitudes towards the sexes. We can certainly thank it for equal opportunities, independence and ideas of free sexuality.
Importantly, this movement didn't generally have 'men' as its enemy. The moral compass it was up against was arguably an attribute of society as a whole, not just one half of it. Feminists, other free thinkers and sexual liberators in the 50s and 60s would have had as many female as male pointing fingers pointing at them. One of the great achievements of this movement, I feel, was a modernisation of men's roles to include all sorts of household chores and 'new man' shit. That development is not parallelled in women's roles. She's generally not the one changing the fuse or reading the map. She's not the one designing the gadgets or reinventing the wheel. Who or what is stopping her? If second wave feminism has come up short it's in terms of finally freeing women from social attitudes.
Whose attitudes? Men's? Hardly. Is the man snatching the map from the woman? Or is she handing it to him as if it's burning her feminine fingers?
Here's where the ways part. Some of us feel that second wave feminism was doing an absolutely splendid job and that it ought to just keep up the good work. Rome wasn't built in a day, but it did get built. More empowerment! More tits, cocks and cunts on the beach! More alternative family forms, free sexuality, men in makeup and women in suits. Whatever makes you happy and fuck what anyone else thinks, it's a free society, etc.
But along comes third wave feminism, which in many ways resembles a motorway pile up. (Who's got the map now? Everyone? No one?) I couldn't help noticing, with a few chuckles, that the Wikipedia page on third wave feminism carries the comment, "This article or section appears to contradict itself." I won't pretend I can untangle the different strands, but I will try to identify some of them:
Third wave feminism can in part be understood as reaction against second wave feminism, which is seen to have failed. It hasn't finished the job of liberation. Ergo it must be wrong.
No more self-empowerment in the face of society's norms and stigmatisation. That idea is replaced by the notion of special privileges and extra rights as the solution in the face of the enemy: men. The solution to what? Inequality? The principle of equality is also redefined: Where once it meant equal rights and opportunities, it now means equal representation. If the sexes aren't represented 50/50 in some area or walk of life, this is seen as evidence of injustice, inequality, discrimination. This only seems to count for areas or walks of life that feminists happen to be interested in. They'll happily leave men to take the heavy, dangerous work and the innovative risks, whilst screaming that all the cushy, fat cat positions and dividends should be divided equally, by force if necessary. It's not really quite rational or fair, but I guess those have been redifined too.
No more free sexuality. Women letting it all hang out and enjoying sexual partners as they see fit is seen as false consciousness. They're really being exploited by men, whose sexuality is seen as repressive and demeaning to women. A consequence of this neopuritanical reasoning is the exaltation of romantic 'love', which on closer scrutiny means monogamy, chastity and modesty (i.e. ostensibly marriage), and disapproval of promiscuity and immodesty. Thus this movement opposes public expressions of sexuality like pornography, prostitution and anything portraying women as sexual beings, whether as instigators or objects of sexual desire. The resemblance to religious morality is striking, as is the irony of this U-turn in the face of second wave free sexuality and raised consciousness.
Where women's liberation in the 60s and 70s was in essence anti-establishment, the third wave is emerging as a bastion of political correctness, the screaming, spoilt ward of nanny states. Self-empowerment and personal liberty seem to have been replaced by the self-pity of eternal victim status.
Third wave feminism can of course be understood as a natural consequence of the first two waves. You make gender a political issue, it's going to develop as one, for better or worse. Nevertheless, the inherent U-turns, the ideological contradictions, the lack of basic horse sense in it lead to a certain confusion about what feminism is and what it's after. Many second wave feminists feel the need to qualify their brand of feminism with a modifier like 'liberal,' 'pro sex' etc. in order to distance themselves from the dingbat lunacy that's taken a patent on the name 'feminism.' Others have stopped regarding themselves as feminists alltogether in the realisation that that movement is alien to their principles and that they can no more call themselves feminists than English can call itself a dialect of Chinese.
So thank you, feminism, for levelling the playing field, raising consciousness and helping pave the way for people to live their lives as they see fit. Do we need all this undone now? No thanks.
Showing posts with label professional victimhood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label professional victimhood. Show all posts
Friday, March 16, 2012
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Some thoughts on women's liberation
Believe it or not, I used to call myself a feminist. How can this be? Did I change my tune? Did I have a hole in my head, or have I got one now? Did I cross over, like some Darth Vader of sexual politics, to the dark side?
No. I want the same thing I did then. I just lost some of my naivety.
I feel it's in my interests to help women liberate themselves (from their own inhibitions and victimhood, not some spurious discrimination), because all the women I know are simply too predictable, conformist and dull. I miss women who can give me some intellectual feedback and not just the same vitriolic scorn, the pouting and sulking. I admire that women feel things. They could teach many men a thing or two about that (and have done). But I miss women who can control and use their feelings, instead of being in the grip of their feelings.
But you don't help women liberate themselves by extending a hand and talking about equality. The effects of that are almost comical. Talking to professional victims about life (or anything for that matter) is like talking to hypochondriacs about illness. How dare you even presume to enter a world where you know nothing, and they are the experts? Even if you can get a word in edgeways past 'Nobody knows the trouble I seen....' you will, at best, only get stung and scorned. You may respect them and consider them your equals, but you are mistaken. To them, you are not their equal. They look down on you from a great height, simply because you will never, never know what it's like to be a woman, a victim of biology.
One should never be lulled into sympathy at that point. One should never make the mistake of conceding to the argument that women have it worse than men and always have, just because they're women. Confirming them in their victimhood doesn't help them (or you) at all. On the contrary, it's the very heart of their problem: A self-fulfilling prophecy by which we let them be inferior because they seem to want it so much. Contradicting them is just as hopeless.
FEMINIST DINGBAT: I can't do anything. I'm useless and worthless. I can't boil an egg without burning it.
PUSSY WHIPPED DICKHEAD JERKOFF: I think you're very clever and intelligent and able, daaarling. My egg was fine.
FEMINIST DINGBAT: Are you patronising me, you patriarchical slime? I'm only good for boiling eggs and being your servant, because that's how you see me. Don't you think I can do anything else? I could be on the board of a public company if only you'd buy me one. Buy me one! I want one! Now!
FAIRY GODMOTHER (closely resembles Vivane Whatshername-Dingbat from the EU): Give her what she wants, or we will!
PROFESSOR PLANET (waking up): Oh Jesus Christ, what a fucking nightmare....
We've held doors and rolled out red carpets for too long. We've fought the battles, taken care of business, done the rationalising and the satirising and consequently still have to indulge females who lag way behind any postmodern or even modern intellectual development. For all intents and purposes, the world may as well still be flat.
It's not really my problem, except that they're too dull to fuck.
We'll help them best by ignoring them, leaving them to stew in their own juice. As my mother said to my father in an earlier paradigm: Iron your own fucking shirt. So I say to the pampered woman: build your own house, start your own company, fix your own wheels, dig a hole and fill it up again. If anything, it's more efficient than screaming.
Or just keep screaming. I can't hear you anyway.
No. I want the same thing I did then. I just lost some of my naivety.
I feel it's in my interests to help women liberate themselves (from their own inhibitions and victimhood, not some spurious discrimination), because all the women I know are simply too predictable, conformist and dull. I miss women who can give me some intellectual feedback and not just the same vitriolic scorn, the pouting and sulking. I admire that women feel things. They could teach many men a thing or two about that (and have done). But I miss women who can control and use their feelings, instead of being in the grip of their feelings.
But you don't help women liberate themselves by extending a hand and talking about equality. The effects of that are almost comical. Talking to professional victims about life (or anything for that matter) is like talking to hypochondriacs about illness. How dare you even presume to enter a world where you know nothing, and they are the experts? Even if you can get a word in edgeways past 'Nobody knows the trouble I seen....' you will, at best, only get stung and scorned. You may respect them and consider them your equals, but you are mistaken. To them, you are not their equal. They look down on you from a great height, simply because you will never, never know what it's like to be a woman, a victim of biology.
One should never be lulled into sympathy at that point. One should never make the mistake of conceding to the argument that women have it worse than men and always have, just because they're women. Confirming them in their victimhood doesn't help them (or you) at all. On the contrary, it's the very heart of their problem: A self-fulfilling prophecy by which we let them be inferior because they seem to want it so much. Contradicting them is just as hopeless.
FEMINIST DINGBAT: I can't do anything. I'm useless and worthless. I can't boil an egg without burning it.
PUSSY WHIPPED DICKHEAD JERKOFF: I think you're very clever and intelligent and able, daaarling. My egg was fine.
FEMINIST DINGBAT: Are you patronising me, you patriarchical slime? I'm only good for boiling eggs and being your servant, because that's how you see me. Don't you think I can do anything else? I could be on the board of a public company if only you'd buy me one. Buy me one! I want one! Now!
FAIRY GODMOTHER (closely resembles Vivane Whatshername-Dingbat from the EU): Give her what she wants, or we will!
PROFESSOR PLANET (waking up): Oh Jesus Christ, what a fucking nightmare....
We've held doors and rolled out red carpets for too long. We've fought the battles, taken care of business, done the rationalising and the satirising and consequently still have to indulge females who lag way behind any postmodern or even modern intellectual development. For all intents and purposes, the world may as well still be flat.
It's not really my problem, except that they're too dull to fuck.
We'll help them best by ignoring them, leaving them to stew in their own juice. As my mother said to my father in an earlier paradigm: Iron your own fucking shirt. So I say to the pampered woman: build your own house, start your own company, fix your own wheels, dig a hole and fill it up again. If anything, it's more efficient than screaming.
Or just keep screaming. I can't hear you anyway.
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