blond jokes
As I open a blond joke email from a friend who is casually misogynist, complete with a photo of a young blond woman flashing a camera, I try to think of a clever man hating joke to send back.
There just isn't enough fire to fight back with. There aren't enough pink pussy hats in the world, or enough white scarves and wristbands, or enough protesters or laws.
It's better in the US than Russia. It's better in Australia than in Iran. It's better everywhere than in Saudi Arabia or Latin America where ugly brown men terrorize openly.
But it's bad everywhere to be a woman. It has been, apparently, in every story i've read from any place in any history.
It's been bad for every living woman who represents a generation. It's been bad in mine, it's bad for the ones being born.
Anger has been my fuel, but has held me. Inner work has made me more palatable, as long as I do not demand too much respect. Alliances with women who are awake to our collective suffering has ultimately been betrayal if there is true male superiority at stake.
All that is left for me, or for anyone, is to quietly give in and suffer along to trade for the privilege of participation. Or to rage separately and be ostracized.
It doesn't matter if we are stronger, or better or smarter. If we are more observant, more empathic, if we carry responsibility for the next generations.
The blond jokes won't end. The misogyny won't end. Mansplaining, disrespect, abuse, betrayal, slavery....
I once dreamed that in some past, somewhere, there were women who held control of themselves and their own destinies. I dreamed that somewhere, once women were respected and free.
It must be fantasy.
All the wounds go on unhealed and festering. We medicate, we retreat, we fantasize.
I dream of one day, having made my way long enough through this wretched culture, to be able to find myself in the woods, or near the sea, or near a hilltop where I myself can shut the door on all of it, to coddle no-one but perhaps an animal with no gender preferences and sink into the void.
Fuck this horrible ugly culture.
There just isn't enough fire to fight back with. There aren't enough pink pussy hats in the world, or enough white scarves and wristbands, or enough protesters or laws.
It's better in the US than Russia. It's better in Australia than in Iran. It's better everywhere than in Saudi Arabia or Latin America where ugly brown men terrorize openly.
But it's bad everywhere to be a woman. It has been, apparently, in every story i've read from any place in any history.
It's been bad for every living woman who represents a generation. It's been bad in mine, it's bad for the ones being born.
Anger has been my fuel, but has held me. Inner work has made me more palatable, as long as I do not demand too much respect. Alliances with women who are awake to our collective suffering has ultimately been betrayal if there is true male superiority at stake.
All that is left for me, or for anyone, is to quietly give in and suffer along to trade for the privilege of participation. Or to rage separately and be ostracized.
It doesn't matter if we are stronger, or better or smarter. If we are more observant, more empathic, if we carry responsibility for the next generations.
The blond jokes won't end. The misogyny won't end. Mansplaining, disrespect, abuse, betrayal, slavery....
I once dreamed that in some past, somewhere, there were women who held control of themselves and their own destinies. I dreamed that somewhere, once women were respected and free.
It must be fantasy.
All the wounds go on unhealed and festering. We medicate, we retreat, we fantasize.
I dream of one day, having made my way long enough through this wretched culture, to be able to find myself in the woods, or near the sea, or near a hilltop where I myself can shut the door on all of it, to coddle no-one but perhaps an animal with no gender preferences and sink into the void.
Fuck this horrible ugly culture.
posted by hymenoptera's honey at 5:08 PM
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