Is The Feminist Stronghold Showing Cracks?
Submitted by subwo
Guest Post by Elizabeth Nickson
Could we be so lucky? Are we on the way out of this hell?Last week, no month, there have been cries from the heights of official culture begging men to come back. I joked on Facebook that they are all at my house, hiding out with someone who doesn’t hate them, which is sortof true; my immediate family is all male, and Christmases are a bro-fest with me in the kitchen. I exaggerate. No. Yes. I don’t know. Of course they help but I do wish for one daughter/sister in law to keep the chaos down. My father once said, “women civilize men, that’s their job.” I don’t think he meant harangue, demand, prosecute and imprison.
In any case, I started the first feminist theatre in Canada. I know this because a grad student did her master’s thesis on Feminist Theatre in Canada (poor thing) and called to interview me. I was 22, and dumb as a rock. But eager to tell the world its faults (plus ca change). My artistic director Svetlana – who was in the MFA program – and I decided that we would only hire women, do women’s plays, etc.
Problem was there were no plays. Aphra Behn was the only one we could find that wasn’t trivial, and she lived 250 years ago. That was when I discovered I loved writing because we had to write our own. Now, of course, there is a massive, over the top, gold-platinum-diamond-and rubies Renaissance in women’s art, and my silly self was as usual so far ahead of the game I didn’t profit from it. Well, I did, it helped my college expenses no end.
So I got a couple of grants, and we collected box office, and ran “plays” and workshops on how to have difficult feminist conversations, one memorably at the Vancouver Art Gallery, where the wife of a famous poet told us that all this guff was going to be forgotten once the estrus cycle kicked in. Svetlana telegraphed ignorance at me, and I back; no one had any idea what she meant. We 22 year olds argued her down, she clung to her thesis an, guess what, turned out she was right. Everyone ‘met’ someone, got pregnant, built marriages and families, but Svetlana who decided she was gay (at the time we worked together she was married), and died young from alcoholism. Is that my fault? It was my idea.
Feminism marched on. To this:
I repent here and now. What feminism has become is anathema. I am actually scared of women. I am afraid of their anger, and I am afraid of their cruelty, their harshness, and I see it everywhere. Luckily through my work I have met women who think like me and we are friends and I am not afraid of them. But I shrink from all other friendships. Female friendships today are built on one thing: are you on side? Are you for abortion, against the patriarchy, for Hamas and most recently, the Mullahs, celebrate female politician wins as long as they are on side, ally with the LBGTZQ+ community, etc.? I am none of these things, so were I to venture into ‘women’s spaces’ eventually the furies would plot revenge. I would be cast afloat, thrown into the wild to fend for myself, as an uppity woman would have been in clan or tribal times, to which we are reverting.
In business, conform or be ruined. Think like us or we cancel your dates, your performance, your promotion. Even the mega-famous:
Therefore I now avoid the friendship of women, in which I used to luxuriate. So if I can’t even spend time in their presence, how the hell are men supposed to marry them?
This is how stupid political women have become. This was last weekend in Germany, and, well, everywhere these women breathe, and that means everywhere in the west.
This is not toxic empathy, it’s psychotic empathy.
The results of this ‘thinking’ you can see in the rubble of relationships, the broken marriages, young women ‘doing it all alone’. Young accomplished men I know can’t find a mate with whom to have children, no matter how attractive they are. Young men, brilliant and kind, don’t leave their mother’s apartment.
This woman is a complete moron:
And women under this curse, soldier on. I cannot imagine raising children alone. I have had enough care of kids to know the work of it, the exhaustion from demands, the immiserating trivialization of one’s mind. If I had to bear that alone, I’d be living in a spiked cortisol state, and I would never be able to just….rest. I rest in the love of men I have known, without which I would have been out barking at the moon. I can’t even imagine living alone, as so many women are celebrating doing now. I’ve done it, and it sucks. It’s not a “choice” for me, I need the ballast of a male presence to thrive. I cannot imagine having a career and raising children, as so many must. Even when married with a supportive spouse, the work would flatten me. The added responsibility so punishing. I ache for them.
We are all caught in the coils of the serpent we’ve invited in. The coils crush and break us. We have been pwnd, in that immortal new word from gamers. We have been conquered, owned by a grim ideology.
Also the broken men. I live in a place at the end of the hippie trail and there are a lot of retired musician-types and the women who love/d them here. I see the men in the grocery store around Thanksgiving and Christmas, if they go out which mostly they do not. They are hulking lions with ravaged faces.
Those faces, the ravaged faces of men who have indulged every sense to the max, are everywhere now. According to the dating apps, ten percent of men can have anyone they want, and the culture (and bands like the Rolling Stones) celebrated it. Today these are destroyed people, they are literally rotting meat suits whose memories are fading. Look at Bill Clinton’s face. It isn’t strong and resolute, it’s literally melting off his bones. Millions imitated them.
I can tell in a shot if a woman has bought into the guff. They do not carry the lineaments of grace, unless it’s the benevolent emptiness of New Agers. They are hard, angry and tragic. Seeking retribution in politics, environmental where I am; they punish and punish again. That 10% of men who slimed around having sex with fifty, one hundred women a year for 25 years because they were “cool” and “hot” and promised wealth coupled with a social step up, excitement, not only gutted their own souls, but the soul of the culture. The betrayal, I have to say this, was enormous.
The pain they dealt shredded women. Who were told in sex education classes not to feel it, that it was nothing, that you should just “get over it”. Bodily function. Healthy. It’s just sex. Sex education is the pit of hell. It entirely, entirely serves predators.
So women fought back by writing plays and movies and books, and got themselves into leadership and punched back in revenge. Double damage. Feminists did not become women with huge opportunity and the world open, they became men. And not nice ones either. The brutalism in public life is allowed by these women, they prosecute it, they push abortion up to birth, they push euthanasia of the elderly, they push vaccines that kill and maim. They are legalistic, certain that the next law, the next insane leader, will be the magic one that squares the circle, an equally unsolvable task. They have no compassion because they are cosplaying what they told each other a million times, that men were brutal, selfish, heartless. That, they decided, is the route to success and transformation of society in their image. Plus, deliciously, they get to show power and payback. The honk of a laugh of a woman in revenge mode. I’ve heard it and it always shocks me.
This idiot’s TED talk is instructive of the profound vanity preached as “good”.
On TikTok the left runs endless ‘live conversations’ eliciting followers to agree that abortion IS health care. Occasionally I weigh in and say things like a) actually abortion is murder and b) maybe not have random sex with strangers. That way you won’t carry that little murder with you for your entire life. They cry “witch!” and report me.
I was never promiscuous in the common sense of the word, or the Hinge sense of the word either. After my alpha-dog early years, I vetted men. Hard. We had to have a lot going for us before we advanced to the next stage. I didn’t “play” hard to get; I was hard to get. I had one marriage and another serious relationship which didn’t work out. Now I have been with the same person for decades. And inside that we have built a shelter, a stronghold of beauty and grace which, on our best days, radiates around us. Those relationships which start in college and stay together? There you can really build something powerful, an empire of beauty and virtue. I’ve seen those too. They are the future. Kids are opting out of the super-culture’s program, going to earth, building a New Jerusalem. They live here too, beautiful babies and cute new businesses, all quite lovely. Hopeful.
Sex is sacred, not a bodily function. Transgress that and prepare to suffer. Not only you, but the world.
Women in public life have turned public life more traumatic, more conflictual, more miserable. Public life now bears resemblance to the fetid stew of a girls boarding school, unreason and bullying to the front. With every year, more beauty vanishes from our built environment as the arts and architecture push post-modern structuralism, that does not honor anything but the ego of the builders. If the women I grew up with were in public life, those buildings would be beautiful, graceful, not forbidding and alienating
.
Eventually I did a hard re-set on myself after two failures. Really what did I expect in lower Manhattan when the whole world – as in people like David Byrne – declared my ex-husband a genius at the age of 28? Drugs, betrayal, and a couple of physical altercations, and I was done. I ran. The shock was profound and I floundered until I did a hard re-set on myself. Celibacy. Close examination of MY motives, not the obvious failures of the other, and eventually I didn’t even blame him.
I waited out my loneliness; my psyche cooled off. I detached from the casual man-hatred I found in almost all women. I met someone. And that gave me, eventually, stability, fulfillment, happiness.
When I was a kid, all the mothers stayed home. We pitied women who had to work. Going into those houses after school was like walking into a cool drink of water, the shadowy warmth of wood paneling, the bright kitchens, the pretty, wise-cracking mother, us lounging on her polished cotton sofas in her tv room, gossiping….that’ loveliness is largely gone now. The culture is so rich everyone should have that grace, that choice. But now everyone must work and pay taxes to the Monolith, the Serpent at the heart of the culture. What’s taken its place is the veneration of harridans like Hillary, like Samantha Power, like Elizabeth Warren, like the Democrat women in Congress, shrieking contorted faces cosplaying outrage. They aren’t working from service, they are working for retribution. Their anger made them align with socialism, convinced of their power to organize us into units of good behaviour defined by them. This is exactly the inverse of Christianity. American Christianity from 1630 on formed the inspiration and guide wherein women worked – hands on – volunteering – to help real people, not units. This and only this, formed civil society; this made our communities graceful, warm, beautiful. We are still coasting on the results of that, not the “work” of gorgons like Hillary Clinton. (I have the receipts on this btw).
Now it’s all paperwork and threats, and forced labor on their prison farms. Look at the animus thrown at women who choose another course. Ballerina Farm has had so much super-culture animus thrown at her, I wonder that she’s still standing, among her cows, children and bread dough, but she is. She is a woman of faith, working against the perennially wicked world. That, I believe, is the right attitude for everyone, man and woman. But that means you have to take responsibility to fix one thing. Not screaming, working hard enough to fix just one thing.. No wonder they hate her.
If I had chosen to marry young and have children, and not work, I would have clawed out my eyes. I need stimulation. Every man I’ve known has told me I had the mind of a man, but am so sensitive, they are confused. Join the club, buddy, I’d say. I need to work, to get out into the real world, where real people build bridges and run businesses and cut down trees, and employ thousands and do great and ambitious things. The cloistering of women’s minds must have been deliberate.. Literary fiction is filled with evil men, always the villain, at its root, unreadable hate-filled propaganda for the clever. For those who read to escape, the books are driven by men who plan to eviscerate them and wear their skin, the horrors so extreme and inventive, one wonders at minds that live in such horror all day. That’s what women are reading and writing: literal hate-men propaganda. Often the men are Christian. And right-wing.
The 400 years of ancestor women in my family were out in the community dealing with real people and real problems, not made up fantasies of evil. They were actually plugged into what was happening. They knew which family suffered serious illness, which neighborhood was at risk from a thief, whose father was too injured to work. They weren’t living in a stew of hatred, being flogged with propaganda. Their politics was practical not utopian. My great great great great grandmother, Abigail St John Phelps, lived to 101, had seventeen children and ran the family home as a boarding house after her husband died, into her 90’s. And a farm to feed them, and countless charitable enterprises. Do you think she was afraid to “speak her truth”?
That was 200 years ago. Do you really think she was anomalous? Of course not. Feminist history is a lie.
But now the women who created this mess are begging for relief from themselves. The woman who wrote the Times piece worked in porn for more than a decade. What the hell did she think would happen? She helped create this vicious extractive dynamic between the sexes by as she says, studying to find the seconds-long trigger for men’s sexual fantasy, refining and refining it. She worked to pull out the most demonic impulses men can know. For ten years. You bleeding moron. You deserve to be alone.
We knew what worked. We knew how to frame a face, a gesture, a moment of implication — just enough to ignite fantasy and open a wallet. I came to understand, in exact terms, what cues tempt the average 18-to-36-year-old cis heterosexual man. What drew him in. What kept him coming back. It wasn’t intimacy. It wasn’t mutuality. It was access to simulation — clean”
On Saturday nights in Manhattan, she says strong independent women dine and walk alone or in groups and the men? Gone.
Literally. Gone.
She speculates, and all her speculations indict the male for his many flaws, while her cohort luxuriate at the peak of virtue.
Honey, they are running from you as fast as they can.
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