Tag Archive: post-post-post-post-feminism

Stand up and kill.

If you’re going to cut somebody up, have the decency to do it face to face.  If you’re going to gut a person, it behooves you to be a human being about it and do it right up close, where you can see what it does to them, where you cannot escape the consequences of the actions you take, where you cannot deny the essential humanity of the person you are cutting.


I am thoroughly tired of watching maiming and murder by proxy.  I am not a nice person; anyone who has known me for any length of time is well aware of this.  I am eminently pragmatic, and this often leads to me thinking thoughts that are quite uncivilized and extremely antisocial.  My brain is, by and large, short, nasty and brutish.  (Pun definitely intended.)  That being said, I am completely fed up with watching people who do not have the balls to pick up a knife pick up pens or keyboards instead, and go on tirades and rampages about the denial of rights and humanity to their fellow human beings.


These are humans, you ignorant bureaucratic cowards.  They eat and sleep and love and live just as you do.  They have lives and dreams and aspirations and loves big and small, just as you do.  They are three-dimensional, complex, and fascinating, just as you are.  So if you are going to call for them to be made small, to be made to fit, to be denied rights or reasons or justifications or simple humanity and complexity, it fucking well behooves you to do it to their faces, to gut them in person.  Pick up your damned knife and watch them bleed, because you owe them that as people.


It is even more infuriating to watch it happen in small communities, rather than large and impersonal ones.  Watching relationships dissolve, and then the partners dehumanize and demonize each other, or uninvolved parties take sides, and only talk about or villainize the participants in their absence, is becoming actively and aggressively repulsive.  I have always tried to maintain a policy of being unwilling to say things about people that I will not say to them, and I am finding it more and more intolerable to see that other people do not hold the same.  People are not steak, to be bought cleanly dissected for your convenience and consumed at leisure.  They are messy and must be butchered in the first person if you want them to fit into neat packages.  Pick up your own knife.  Do your own dirty work.  Don’t murder by proxy.  Stand up and kill.  If it’s a crime worth killing for, do it yourself.  If the person they are or the behaviors they engage in are worth cutting or gutting for, get your hands dirty and keep your fucking gorge down, because it’s work that needs doing.  If you can’t make yourself do it in person, then question whether it needs doing at all.


If you can’t do it to a real human, standing in front of you, what gives you the fucking right to do it at a distance, where you don’t have to feel it?  Because they do.  I guaran-damn-tee you they do, because they’re people.  They are not steaks, or Guy Fawkes effigies stuffed with straw.  Just because you distance yourself from them in the confines of your own mind does not make their selves any less real.  You cannot unmake them for your convenience, and pretending you can is hubris of the most disgusting kind.  Murder by proxy is cowardice.  Stand up and kill, or sit down and shut your fucking mouth.


Pick up your own knife, or put down your weapons and deal with them like people who have rights.  There is no middle ground.  Not in my world.


(This rant has been brought to you by the Stop Feeding Me Coffee And Then Getting Me Started On Politics and Ranting Fund.)

I want men.

I want men who are not afraid to love.  I want the women and other men in their lives to stop telling them and showing them and beating them over the head with the fact that love is women’s work, and that men are not allowed to do it, or only allowed to do it conqueror-fashion or protector-fashion.

I want men who are not afraid genuinely to hurt.  I want men to be allowed to see hurt not as weakness, but as humanity – a genuine part of the experience that makes us us, and valid in its own right.  It is acceptable, and sometimes even desirable, to be hurt by what we experience, because it teaches us and it changes us and it gives us insight.  It is a good thing to share that hurt with the people we love, because it gives them the opportunity to do something about that hurt – to show their mettle, to mend if they choose, to do more harm if they choose, and either way to teach us something we need to know about what they will do when we show them that we’re bleeding.  I want men to be taught that hurt is acceptable to feel and to show – not just as martyrs or as superheroes, but as people being affected by experience, who are living out their lives and being affected by other people.

I want men who can be courted.  I want them not to be bludgeoned with the idea that if they are not the aggressor, they are prey.  I want them to understand and believe that their worth comes not from their ability to pursue, but from their character as people.  I want them not to hear from their sisters, their mothers, their daughters, their lovers, their wives that they are weak, pussywhipped, or sissies, or less than if they are the pursued instead of the pursuer.

I want men who are allowed to be beautiful.  I want the women and men around them to celebrate their beauty with them, and give them the tools and praise they need to feel their beauty glitter in the light like stars on velvet.  Men have a right to be beautiful, just as women do, and I want men to know that.  I want men in my life who know that.

I want men who are not afraid of comfort.  Who unlace their boots and weep.  Who aren’t afraid to get fucked.  Who aren’t horrified by their own inner child.  Who say shitty things when they need to be said.  Who apologize freely when they realize that they needed to say things that weren’t true.  Who care and trust and are vulnerable and willing and kind and amazing.  Who understand that none of this makes them any less strong, masculine, impressive, or attractive.

I want men.  And I want us to help create them, because we are the only ones who can.

I want women.

I want women in my life and in the world who are not afraid to eat and think and fuck.

I am tired, tired, tired of seeing and hearing and reading messages that communicate to women I love and women I just know and women I will never meet and don’t even know exist that they should be afraid to be smart and talk about it, afraid to enjoy their food, afraid to enjoy their bodies.  I am tired of it, it makes me stabby, and it makes me want to climb billboards with a knife, a gascan, and a lighter.

But I won’t, because I can set fire to the women I know with words.

Do you know that you can eat, and no one else goes hungry because of it?  When you order at a restaurant, if you order what you want, instead of what is cheap or what someone else wants you to order, no one else is going to go hungry.  It is just as okay for you to take seconds at home as it is for your husband, your brother, your father, your son.  You deserve food as much as anyone else, you deserve to eat good things that make you happy until you are satisfied, not just until it no longer hurts.

Do you know that you can think, and no one is endangered by it? Your brain is a mighty thing, and should be used at every opportunity.  Being witty and having things to say in conversation is not being catty, overbearing, bitchy, or on the rag, just because you’re a woman.  Yes, you can still be all of those things – but not just because you dared think of something to say, and speak it.  Your thoughts are as good as other people’s, and sometimes better.  Your brain is your best asset in life, and if you don’t use it, it’s going to atrophy.  I am afraid for you, because you have been made afraid to think.  Please, please, don’t be afraid to wonder and question and speak up.  It’s the only thing that will save you from being a puppet.

I want women who are not afraid to fuck.  Your vagina is not a spring – it is not going to wear out after a certain number of compressions.  It’s not going to rot off just because you exposed it to another human being.  I promise!  It’s not a bargaining chip, a gold bar, a fruit from the Tree of Awesome that you have to exchange for something of immense value, otherwise you’re getting gypped.  It’s a part of your body designed to bring you joy, and to help you make babies if you want them.  Use it!  Use it willingly and joyfully and wisely – choose your partners according to standards YOU set (see, here we’re back to thinking again), engage with them on YOUR terms, and then fuck however much YOU want to fuck!  It’s fun!  It’s awesome and fantastic and gooey and messy and gleeful!  Really, you should try it.  And try it.  And then try it a different way, because it might be fun!  But don’t let anybody else tell you how to try it, because it’s YOUR vagina, and you get to use it or not use it however you like.

Corollary: if you don’t *want* to fuck, don’t.  If you have never, ever had the desire to have any kind of sex and you’re an asexual creature who simply has no desires in that direction, that’s a choice too, and a personally valid one that I encourage you to make, if it makes you happy!  Again – YOUR vagina.  The “please go fuck” bit is based on the fact that every woman I have ever met (bar none) with whom I have had a conversation about not having sex is currently not having sex because either 1) she is afraid to leave or open up a relationship with a partner to whom she is not currently sexually attracted or 2) she is afraid of the consequences of having sex.  This excludes 3) women who are not actually women because they are girls who are underage.

I want women who are not afraid to eat and think and fuck.  I want the women and men around them not to make them afraid to eat and think and fuck – by action, implication, word, deed, propaganda, or any other fucking thing.  I want women who are happy and whole and who make decisions based on confidence and joy and a sense of purpose.  I want the world to be full of them, because I think that would be a world I would be happier living in.  Go make a woman in your world joyful and confident today – you will be happier if you do.

%d bloggers like this: