We Who Fell From Grace/Alphabet-soup/Being But Boys

Illustration: “D”, Moiret Allegiere, 2017

This is a guest post from Moiret Allegiere.  He has a great deal to say about our plight as men in today’s insane misandrist world. You can find his blog here.

We, who so lovingly devolved and fell from grace; who longed to be devoured by the rush and the filth and the harshly whispered words…

who so quickly succumbed to illness, to tribal despotism and despair; who saw sudden surges of revenge pondered in school-yards a-flame…

…who so slowly broke down and fell apart on streets lined with gold…

who so openly announced our departure from our selves for all to hear…

who so honestly drank slow-burning ruination from chalices offered by silver-tongued Succubi speaking soft nothings in our ears…

who so truthfully believed belittling tattle-tales and nursery-rhymes, timid and scared and frozen in the headlights…

who so freakishly, annoyingly, self-devouringly swallowed the hook and line and sinker of preposterous tongue-tied dogmatism…

who so very much longed to prove our worthiness in shaded temples overrun by smog and asbestos by the light of her countenance…

who so dramatically disowned our inner-most being for the flicker of her shanty-town eyes and trash-heap domestication…

who so simple-mindedly tore our beating hearts from our chests through our throats and shattered jaws to present as tokens of our love…

who so lonely in nights beneath concrete-breasts, betwixt asphalt-thighs slick as weapons-grade plutonium, cursed ourselves just for being…

We, who so longed for love that we became a self-mutilating spectacle burning with desires deemed demonic, satanic, beast-like…

who so longed to be loved that we fell from our heads and minds and souls into caricatures resembling anything but ourselves…

who so believed the foul things we were told in classrooms steeped in ideology that our souls, our spirits, died by slight-of-hand suicide…

who so fell for the tranquil war-cry of dogmatic serpents, ideologically blinded by pins and needles, that we waged war upon ourselves…

We, who made ourselves disposable, expendable, throw-away-able..

who made necklaces from our own teeth and presented them as gifts…

who made solemn vows to never be the ones we were…

who made promises to sacrifice and to protect and to serve…

We, who were told we were – by our mere presence – dangerous…

who were told we were – by our very nature – fiends…

who were told we were – by testosterone itself – immature…

who were told we were – by birth – untrustworthy…

We, who were made to make amends for the sins of our fathers…

who were made to take a pledge of inferiority…

who were made to mimic serfdom from infancy…

who were stoned by popular vote…

who were put in laughingstocks for speaking up…

who were hung, drawn and quartered when we drew a line in the sand…

Where are we now?

…lost in opiate-daze, body-outlines drawn in charcoal upon streets of yesteryear, heads resting on pillows of impenetrable street-trash, sleeping rough beneath lonely midnight-clouds, being spat upon by passers-by whom we, in the prime of our youth, swore we should protect?

…lost in manic labyrinthine chores and demands with vision clouded by push-and-prod-and-pulls infinite, minds ensnared by senses of righteous indignation at the here-to, here-now, come-here-boy, slaving away at the rat-race in indebted servitude to make amends for the sins of our fathers?

…lost sleepless between lead-sheets where our groins are slowly eaten away by bedbugs crawling through our shameful erections, working to do what the constant buzz and drone and hum of puerile, infantile, prepubescent publications tell us that we must do in order to be men?

…lost in fulfilling a barrage of incoherent societal demands levied at us for being us; a disastrous crack-haven voice calling for our responsibilities, our self-sacrifice, for us to do better and to be better so that women and children shall be safe and free and be safe to be free and be free to be safe?

…from us…

…lost in alleyways, brutally beaten and kicked to the curb, shot between the eyes and mugged, robbed, ripped apart by violence gratuitous and grandiose, crawling our way through broken bottles and puddles of piss to be told, at the end of the line, that we must end violence against women?

…lost between the spread legs of time, shadows floating by, unseen and unheard, unnoticed and unwanted, vague bodies crippled from stress and melting minds, double-narratives told constantly, double standards imposed upon us, heart, soul, mind, body now lost in time and space?

Where are we now?

…free-falling with arms flailing impotently into some dread future-scape, numbed by cogwheels ticking away, by machinery, by mechanical contraptions brutally burying into our skin and bones, our skulls and minds, our hearts and souls.

…free-falling with temperaments doomed to die, with judgements passed on the monstrous cock, the savage balls, the passage of time from mirrors mirroring history viewed through period-blood, menstruated heavily from high-and-mighty academes who never once tasted truth.

…free-falling into delirious neglect from a society whose whispers maniacally conjure grins and glee toxic and nauseous through perpetual lies and misrepresentations, through hit-pieces a-plenty and the everlasting tide of self-assured cock-shamed shaming of the cock.

…free-falling maddeningly into spirals of deceit where once stood truth atop the shoulders of giants, now ground into spastic broken shards of glass doubtlessly preaching dubious equality handcrafted marvellously from uncertain rustling behind the shower curtains.

…free-falling, lambasted and ridiculed for standing up where once we fell down, delving ever deeper into the solemn solitude of cathedrals erected to honour the death of potent masculinity; the culling of young minds seeing young boys led to the slaughter viciously, maliciously.

…free-falling into chemical castrations; blood and chalk on blackboards coveted by legions of pedagogues armed with orthodox new-truth, pale and pasteurized, homogenized and swollen with lies of a dogmatic nature, dominatrix school-mistress with fell venomous fangs.

We, whose wings were cut, whose fangs were pulled, whose claws were trimmed…

we, whose thoughts were silenced, whose tongues were amputated, whose throats were slit…

we, whose heroism was dubbed toxicity, whose playful banter was labelled hateful, whose sexuality was considered primitive at best…

We of the conveniently neutered generation,

of the conventionally tortured generation,

of the chronically tormented generation…

Who are we now?

…A generation of boys and young men shamed into silence, into servitude, into self-flagellating microcosm misanthropy aimed squarely at our sex and gender…

…A generation of boys and young men whipped into the deserts and the tundra to be food for the vultures and the buzzards and the demons; to feed the roar of the moving dunes, like waves…

…A generation of boys and young men lost within the manifested reality of grim-faced bespectacled poet laureates of fame and befuddled fortune in feudal-systems crafted from narrative convenience in academic stupidity…

…A generation of boys and young men ripped from the arms of their fathers and thrown into dungeons to suffer and then be crushed beneath the weight of the wickedness of the world…

…A generation of boys and young men scarred from a thousand strokes of the whip; the cat of nine tails poignantly expressing the societal dissolution of our very nature…

…A generation of boys and young men being told that they are at fault for the demons in the wilderness, the ghosts at the door, the past, present and future atrocities of humanity…

…A generation of boys and young men who never witnessed the rod being spared; who were spoilt with the tongue-lashings of a million studiously inept traumatized graduate students of brainwashed notoriety…

…A generation of boys and young men lost within the vortex of a de-constructed society, within whose arms and upon whose bosom we were never wanted, wished or welcomed…

…A generation of boys and young men who have been socialized into sacrifice, who have had their sexuality scrutinized, their essence demonized, their eyelids sewn shut with barbed wire…

…A generation of boys and young men raised into self-loathing and cold despair, losing ridiculous societal games by their mere presence considered harmful to all within line of sight…

And we were promised that our problems also mattered.

And we were promised that all should be treated equally under the sun.

And we were promised, were we only to open up, we would be saved.

And we were told the problems of boys and men were of their own making.

And we were told the problems of girls and women were also of men’s making.

…then we were told that boys and men have no problems, but that we are boys and men.

…then we were told to shut up…

…then we were told that we were the problem.

…then we became the problem…

*

Agencies devoid of reason chase us out of bed in stone-cold mornings.

Belated birthday-wishes for the dream that was the child within,

Choked out at the corner of bedlam and squalor,

Delirious and dripping with fright-night splendour,

Eternally seeking empathetic connections – salvation through society.

Fear being what they taught us in our ruptured barnyard-schools,

Gullible as only small children could be,

Hated and shamed for nothing but our crucified cocks,

Illuminated by the rudimentary petticoat-philosophy of nincompoops.

Jealousy reigned supreme in the bloodshot eyes of low-gear thinkers;

KKK-lynchings emulated in child’s play: boys are inferior.

Lying is the path towards miss-understanding,

Maddeningly hiding truth for sake of ideological convenience.

None who speak truth live long to tell the tale;

Only death await those who dare defend the masculine –

Painting perverse, obscene portraits of we who fell from grace –

Quiet, quaint, devilishly innocent political “truth-seekers”,

Raped by sourced evidence and facts to the contrary,

Silencing us as we advance ever more; crossing the borders of obscurity.

To tear the blindfold away from the inebriated waste-face of society,

Understand that society need to know more than lies and slander.

Vile assaults on men, on boys, on masculinity called us out to war.

We will win through persistence this war of nuclear attrition,

Xeroxed and force-fed to our gutless, gullible generation;

Young and old are all the same, tranquillized and mindless,

Zombiefied by rigorous academic intellectual insanity.

*

Being but boys, we lived vivid summer-evenings entranced in woodland playtime, running wild and free through trees infested with trials and tribulations for us to conquer…

…being but boys, we slew monsters and crossed paths with gods in never-ending summer days where we dazed about in frantic free-form imagination, hopelessly devoted to expressive life and love…

…being but boys, we grabbed every minute, every moment, and shook it endlessly, heedless of time passing through us, ecstatic, burning internally with wild warlock energy…

…being but boys, we stomped the ground beneath our feet until it turned to mud, conquering horrifying demons and fears and sweating like mad, hungry, powerful beasts…

…being but boys, we were shamans and warriors, magnificent playwrights of our own shared destinies, found in the holiest of holies, the inner sanctum of boyhood imagination…

…being but boys, we danced to tunes only we could hear in the soft, warm, murmuring summer air, breathlessly entangled and ensnared in lifesaving, life-affirming explosions of joy…

…being but boys, we were unhinged, burning with rebellion, with piss and vinegar, with breaking the cataclysmic chains that tied us to the daily drudgery of routines like superstition…

…being but boys, we evolved and we grew and we came to be young men, affirmed through fear-mongering parasites in burnt-out messianic lectures at school to be viciousness and lust and rage and ruin…

…being but young men, we were thrown overboard, cast adrift, to float face-down in lost mid-summer dreams where hopelessness gripped our throats as saltwater filled our lungs…

…being but young men, we succumbed to the allure of life-denial, taught haphazardly with veiled words sung from irrational gurus atop pinnacles of forced chemical castrations…

…being but young men, we saw our heads stomped by tender feet preaching liturgies of our foul wickedness through tyranny clothed in excruciating religious fanaticism…

…being but young men, we were made to rebel against our selves in days and nights of self-flagellating dishonesty, disrobing our masculinity to cleanse the palates of tin-foil-hat dictators…

…being but young men, we were made to break the supposed mould of maleness imposed upon us by our tyrannical forefathers, whose words and deeds should trickle down from history and manifest in us as shame…

…being but young men, we were shame incarnate, rebuilt, reborn from aeons of historical dust and mist and mud, disgusting swine of society dribbling with glee at every lash of the whip across our backs…

…being but young men, we fell into despair and never uttered a word in opposition to clinical insanity reigning supreme in miraculous lamplight-plays of smoke and mirrors…

…being but young men, we were castigated, ridiculed and shamed, laid in chains and iron and led towards torture-chambers to be confronted with, to admit to, our sins and seek repentance through pain…

And we saw, as men, our friends fall into catatonic states of unbridled drug-abuse, chained to the bottle and the needle as time wore on and wore them down.

And we saw, as men, the falling-out of our sanity linked to pre-programmed academes interrupting the heartbreak with lectures plentiful of shame and neglect.

And we saw, as men, broken and beaten and crushed by the weight of all our sins, God pass by in miniscule whimpers to lead some other stranger to some other far-away land.

And we saw, as men, summer floating into winter, permanently frost-bitten and trembling with hypothermia and repressed rage, our selves blow chunks of brain across living-room walls and floors.

And we saw, as men, suicidal ideation taking the place in our minds where once we used to stomp the ground to mud, where once we used to laugh to our hearts content.

And we saw, as men, our own deaths mirrored in the eyes of society shining with self-assured mockery and overambitious celebration at the death of we, of us, being nothing but men.

And we saw, as men, a world which passed us by and flew above our heads, daring us to reach out and touch its wings and tender beak, to seek its nurture and its love and compassion and fail, for it to mock and laugh…

And we saw, as men, the dawn of our demise where we were drowned in monsoon-rain, choked by moonlight, thrown from the cliffs onto the lashing, crashing, smothering waves below…

And we saw, as men, our friends and then ourselves checking out and longing for release and, after quick snack-breaks in rudimentary ghettos, finding solace in dropping out…

Where are we now?

No longer lost.

No longer losing.

No further fall from grace.

No further need for grace.

No more mindless dogmatic self-flagellation.

No more mindless pilgrimages of redemption.

No more swollen tongues from shutting up.

No more swollen chests from having to prove our worthiness.

We were mockingly proven to be unwanted, unneeded, unnecessary.

We were mockingly proven to be lecherous, treacherous, syphilitic.

We were told we were violence incarnate; anti-Christ resurgence, war, pestilence, famine and death in one neat package of toxic testosterone and vicious venomous boners.

So that now, to still the beating of your hearts; we’ll stand repeating:

There is no balm in Gilead;

and we who fell from grace

shall play this game

ah

nevermore.

Moiret’s Book:

Vol 1 Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/107571074X
Vol 1 Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07TZTPDPR
Vol 2 Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1075714184
Vol 2 Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07TZR25NL
Vol 1 Illustrated Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1075717094
Vol 2 Illustrated Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1075723078

Beneath the Streets; A Song of Male Sacrifice:

Illustration: “Blue Light Spasm”, 2019, Moiret Allegiere

This is a guest post from Moiret Allegiere.  He has a great deal to say about our plight as men in today’s insane misandrist world. You can find his blog here.

Beneath the streets of our civilization lie the burnt and mangled corpses of men. Centuries of rotten carcasses piled beneath our feet, upon whose skulls we trample and whose broken ribs forever carry the brute weight of our desired rampage towards the sunset.

In the midst of our rivers and our sewers flow the blood of men, coursing through our quick-and-easy lives as the pulse beats in our chests and juggle in our jugulars, cut deeply into our shared destiny and yet snap-chatted into complete and utter oblivion.

The smell of sweat mingled with the smell of molten metal; volcanic eruptions of steel-farms-and-mills tingling the spine of our calculated wreckage of the scenery—apocalyptic graveyards grey and industrial in streets naked and unafraid, unashamed.

Rising like the heaving chest of an asthmatic; black oozing smoke from coal-fires or explosions in mines underneath the feet of our history analysed by puritans in wretched excess—now forgotten, now pushed away as damage done to nature more than men.

Or perplexingly perceived to be damage done by men upon the face of earth; scars cut into her beating heart by the uncaring hands and terrorist actions of men wielding knives sharpened to pick-axe-points to dominate and destroy, to exterminate and terminate.

Drawn as damage done by pure malice, by ideological disinterest in the ecosystem and its careful symbiosis with the floral fauns of ages past; prophetic visions not of mechanical necessity but of the three X’s – Explore, Expand, Exterminate, building not on hope but upon hate.

And all the corpses maligned and magnified that line our streets and pampered pockets died in vain and—in some strangers eye—a pragmatic parasite to be displayed as archaic tools of oppression for doing what they had to do, not what they wanted to do…

…and all the blood pumped to and fro our synthetic urban symbiosis, picturing the city as an organism, heart pounding, carrying vessels to and fro to do the work and duty that need be done; heroes hidden in the everyday soot and grime of displaced malcontent…

…and all the dead and all the dying whose hearts and souls were lost in permanent war, worn down and torn asunder by outside forces in chivalrous regalia marching to defend and to protect their very own ifs and buts and homes and hopes and dreams…

…all our eyes turned away from the crucified and martyred millions who died and are still dying for ideals and for ideas which they did not understand or maybe even share, but whose heartbeats beat for all and one all at once; who was called to sacrifice for some wicked strangers dream…

…all our eyes turned away from the loss of innocence and loss of life and glimmer in the eyes of those who fell in line and fell into entrapment permanent within the grey brick walls of soul-sucking industry for their lives and the lives of their family in near-yet-forgotten history…

…all our eyes turned away from soul-crushing sacrifice done by men whose wish and will were for others to be better off in the future than he; whose calloused hands and blackened lungs illuminated by the fires and spasms of industry paved the road upon which we walk carelessly…

…for all who fell into the flames of indentured servitude, who made their mark upon the world and who were forgotten and unsung – we turn our eyes away and shake our heads in dutiful neglect to forget and sing a different song to different tunes…

…for all whose arms and legs and backs were beat and broken in picket lines naught but a century ago, who cut the dried umbilical cord of industrial infancy to raise the standards indefinite are now cut and dried in the scorching sun of vain and vacuous whining…

…for all whose tedious toil in the grubby mud and soil whose song should be sung and celebrated are left to die in the annals of history as burdensome and oppressive tyrants; patriarchs of unchecked privilege existing at the cost of the suffering of others…

…others whose toil and blood and meagre existence were hampered not by him but by the society in which they co-existed in dire circumstance and need, burnt by the scorching rain of dehumanized elitism in serfdom mimicked and mirrored in the days as the days were then…

…we sing of him and they and them as de facto Machiavellian tyrants, wielding uncensored power with machinelike efficiency, heaping scorn and ridicule upon the memory of past-time struggles where times were hard for all and one, not merely for her…

…we sing of him and they and them as all their struggles are all but forgotten in the moonlit glow of easy times birthed by his struggles and careless self-sacrifice done in the daring glow of the hope that is the new daze of new days dawning in the unforeseeable future…

…we sing of him and they and them as simplified black/white explorations of history viewed through binocular lenses cracked and covered in soot by a generation – give or take – of easy living relative to the past whose presence we have dutifully decided to forget and revise…

…we sing of him and they and them as were he and they and them enemies of the women and children for whom blood were spilt for the sake of them and of future generations; for whom backs were bent and bones were broken on the road to better living…

…we sing of him and they and them as if they matter none in the building of our easy day-daze societies, where we now find ourselves lost dancing in the silver light spat upon us by the moon under whose streaks of silver we have fallen into thankless, dubious, immediate lives…

…we sing of him and they and them as relics of some former era of male supremacy under whose boot and heels all who were not men were crushed and smothered into relentless compliance with his governing will and steel-tipped iron glove of rape…

…we sing of this and of that, remembering little and knowing even less, permanently googling the eye of the beholder as though the eye of the beholder matter more than the beholden who wore the rags of deep despair and desperate danger to save others at the cost of himself…

…we sing of this and mumble about that, understanding little, and caring even less, about the men upon whose shoulders we grandstand to amplify our virtue by caring about everyone but him and his life, his sacrifice and premature industrial accident or war-planned death…

…we sing of this and celebrate that and forget – in our relative ease of living, in our somewhat simple lives – the many centuries of dead and broken men below our feet where we walk with ease, carrying Instagram-models in our pockets and thinking no further than our memes…

…we celebrate this and sing of that, as all our shared struggles and all our historical nuance and difficulty and nuanced difficulty is flaccidly flashed into unblinking social-media existence dragging on into our self determined societal suicidal samba…

…we forget this, as we shame that which we should remember with reverence and respect; our water still poured from sinks by the blood of men, our pocket computers built upon the rotting corpse-hands of those men who died for our lives, whose lives and memories we now shame.

Beneath the streets of our civilization lie the burnt and mangled corpses of men. Centuries of rotten carcasses piled beneath our feet, upon whose skulls we trample and whose broken ribs forever carry the brute weight of our desired rampage towards the sunset.

 

Moiret’s Book – Howling at a Slutwalk Moon:

Vol 1 Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/107571074X
Vol 1 Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07TZTPDPR
Vol 2 Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1075714184
Vol 2 Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07TZR25NL
Vol 1 Illustrated Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1075717094
Vol 2 Illustrated Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1075723078

My Generation Killed Rock’N’Roll:

Illustration: «As my Fedora Gently Weeps», 2019, Moiret Allegiere

This is a guest post from Moiret Allegiere.  He has a great deal to say about our plight as men in today’s insane misandrist world. You can find his blog here.

Illustration: «Rock’N’Roll will never die», 2019, Moiret Allegiere

_____________________________

We are a generation lost, choking on our own fumes of self-righteous indignation egged on by dishonest academic coprophilia. Come past, come present, come future, we will all be forced to eat shit and then die, harnessed to our safety-bubbles and lost within the great wide world-void without a safety net. Cerebral coprophilia.

Where once we used to taste and thrive on danger – what could be considered dangerous – rebellion and wild vulgarity, rock’n’roll and free expression – we now thrive on telling others what they may or may not speak and how they should go about doing so. Or not doing so.

Where once we used to laugh and crack whiplash-jokes at just about anything, we are now so inoculated that our mediocre playtime schools tell us nothing of substance for fear of triggering the trigger-happy woke hipster squad armed with muscle-loss rifles. Pow pow pow.

We are the generation of South Park and gross-out humour. And we can’t stand anything offensive. It boggles the mind and shakes the spinal fluid out my nose and ears. If anything, we should be so used to wild kicks in all directions that nothing would phase us. But the loonies have taken over the asylum. They have overrun our institutions and turned them on their head very much over heels – wondrous institutions of higher indoctrination into the victim cult of burnt offerings – neck scarred by failed lynchings – free-form ideas replaced with cancerous tumours. We no longer seek to understand or heal through laughter and through humour. We seek to heal through trapping ourselves within a cage and throwing away the key. Demanding anything we don’t like be thrown out of society and beaten to a bloody pulp by those who are supposedly opposed to violence. Mad wild-beast-hysteria, mirroring those who protested rock’n’roll, who decided that Dungeons and Dragons was a pathway to satanism, who blamed Alice Cooper for murders and claimed Marilyn Manson as the reason for school-shootings and massacres.

Masculinity is taught in schools to be a dangerous ideology, through years of unchecked auto-cannibalism on behalf of western thought. Research gone the route of subjective opinion where objective fact is naught but triggers for the squad of woke dementia branded by their handlers and told that they must never have their feelings hurt. If they are of a non-masculine persuasion, that is.

For there are no checks in place, no balance to be had. Boys and men may still be subject to denigration and hatred, uncensored and shot out both barrels of rhetorical shotguns aimed flat-fisted and devoid of facts at the chests and beating hearts of young boys trapped in schools to be told that they are vicious visceral beasts of rape and annihilation. And girls are still sugar and spice and everything nice – en mass.

All boys and men should do is sit still, silent and complacent, as their inner world burns and wild teacher’s manifested telepathy reach into their minds to tell them not what they think but what the academic nincompoops of mass-indoctrinated hay-fever tell them that they think that they think. For boys are still snips and snails and puppy-dog tails. And there is something wrong with boys and with men that must be unlearned through rigorous academic shit-tests. And this is painted as being of great service to boys and men! Manufacturing confusion and inner turmoil, self-loathing and layers of shame in the souls of boys and men – attacking their core identity – is rendered as a service and not a full frontal assault on their very being. In a just universe, these people would be shunned and shamed for their blatant assault on a group of people for nothing but their innate characteristics. In a universe and a society that ran on reason, these peddlers of abhorrent hatred would be hated and curb-stomped and left in the wilderness.

My generation is doomed. Domesticated and complacent. Whipped into place by hatred and shame painted in the new glow of liberating equality; by gender-political con-artists espousing feminine virtue as the only virtue, demanding that they be the ones to decide what are the real problems facing men, never leaving men a space to decide for themselves. Or speak on behalf of themselves. Punctuated by the guttural roar of clenched teeth and fists flung violently towards the world of men. And never – never understanding that it is not in the best interest of men that men should not be allowed to speak for themselves as to what constitutes and makes a man a man, that it is not in the best interest of men that men should not be the ones to speak on what are the issues facing men.

A political movement that has picked its own enemy should not be the ones to speak on behalf of their enemy. This should be obvious. Yet, here we are, a society so firmly placed betwixt the unwashed butt-cheeks of feminist misandric ideology that all our noses and all our tongues are brown, and all we taste and smell is shit. So much so that we do not notice the taste and smell any more. We take it for granted. Part and parcel of the western utopian pipe-bomb-dream where sex and gender does not matter, except when it does matter. And when it does matter, it is when one is better than the other and one is worse than the other. Skewed heavily in favour of the fraud and sham of feminist poltergeist-philosophy, thriving on hatred and division when claiming to be nothing of the sort. Of course.

My generation were fed the notion of equal treatment through the myopic lenses of frazzled and bewildered feminism. We had feminism forced down our throats as the movement with a monopoly on equality; the movement of equality to end all other civil rights movements, past, present and future. So that no other voices and no other views were to be heard and were to be seen. Because there were no other movements of such fantastic vision, such fantastic truth and beauty. Opposition to feminism meant not only opposition to equality, but opposition to women. And opposition to women is worse than being opposed to equality. Which, I think, should be an eye-opener if ever there was one.

Any movement that does not tolerate dissent… that does not tolerate other movements… should be hastily ignored and thrown out the door flat on their anaemic arse. Any political movement so tyrannical and so domineering as to claim to hold the monopoly on this, that or the other should be hastily broken down and drowned in its own septic flesh. The obvious totalitarianism in this way of thinking is nothing that should be celebrated. Yet, it was and it is celebrated. It is taught and told and forced down our gullible throats as the only path towards equality – whatever that tenderly infected term “equality” means.

My generation had no personal choice in the matter. We were brow-beaten and whipped into compliance with feminist orthodoxy and dogmatic rule through pictures painted and presented us of poor oppressed women herded like sheep to the slaughter, opposed at all sides by the wickedness and cruelty of men. Leered at and raped at every turn of the cock, ticking timebombs as they were, throbbing and waiting for rape and pillage and plunder and the spoiling of virginal and sanctified womanhood.

All this to justify the building up of girls – the girl power rhetoric so hip and cool – at the expense of boys, whose shuddering and neglected shapes fell flat on their faces on the sidelines of education reform that taught us nothing but to feel ashamed and feel guilty for our sex; that taught us nothing but an inherent knowledge that we were bad. And all the while telling us, with serpent-tongues and crimson smiles, that it was not about hating men or boys.

Where once we dared to set course for uncharted waters… where we dared to face the world on our own terms, we have been rendered impotent and deemed incompetent. We have been thrown to the margins and forgotten; our pride and our masculinity swallowed by the serpent-shape of gender-politics claiming to speak on behalf of both genders, yet caring only for one, neglecting the other.

And the serpent gave birth to numerous offspring, clans upon clans of followers of the snake-cult, all clinically brain-dead and washed ashore on the rhetoric of shame-hate-rage-ruin-ridicule, hiding and cowering in fear if anyone should propose something outside their ideological comfort zone. Claiming offence if truths are presented, and then demanding protection from facts and from truths uncomfortable to their preconceived notions of supposed equal treatment, meaning, of course, “superiority for me, inferiority for thee”. An arrogant tribe of spoilt and rotten eggs, all claiming tolerance and lack of hatred, all claiming open-mindedness and truth and reason, whilst showing lack of tolerance, proving their unflinching and unbridled hatred at any turn, keeping their minds closed to anything outside their realm of proclaimed knowledge and disavowing facts and truth and reason countering their dogmatic, borderline religious, flat-earth-like convictions.

And claiming all things to be offensive, in order to shut down any opposition. This and that and all the other stuff is offensive. As if that is enough of an argument, as if merely the pregnant tunes of offence taken is a counter-argument. A glaringly obvious tactic of manipulation in place of arguments. Which somehow fucking bloody god-damned works within and without powerful institutions.

My generation killed Rock’n’roll.

God have mercy on our souls.

 – Please like, share and subscribe

 – Moiret Allegiere, 20.07.2019

History of the International Women’s Movement: A Dry Topic for those Wet behind the Ears.

Mark Conway

The Birth of an International Movement

To enter this topic into polite “cocktail” conversation is often difficult.  You are either met with glassed over eyes from those that are either ignorant and/or uninterested in the topic, or you are subject to vehement observation of a potential deviation from the accepted narrative.

One can, and probably should, consider the birth of the international women’s movement to the founding of the United Nations (UN) Status of Women’s Committee (SWC) in 1946, and its initial triumph in removing the reference to “men”, as being synonymous with “humanity”, in the 1948 UN Universal Declaration of Human Rights.  This was laudably argued by the SWC as being more “inclusive language”, consistent with the concept of equality.

From there, the SWC managed to influence a number of international declarations/agreements over the following 20 years.  These include:

The International Labour Organization’s 1951 convention concerning Equal Remuneration for Men and Women Workers for Work of Equal Value, enshrining the principle of equal pay for equal work.

The 1953 Convention on the Political Rights of Women, the first international law instrument to protect the political rights of women.

The 1957 Convention on the Nationality of Married Women, following by the 1962 Convention on Consent to Marriage, Minimum Age for Marriage and Registration of Marriages.

The crowning achievements of this initial period resulted in the 1963 request by the UN General Assembly for the SWC to draft a Declaration on the Elimination of Discrimination against Women, which was adopted by the UN in 1967.  This declaration contained 11 Articles which mostly consolidate the fore mentioned conventions.  Article 1 specifically declared that discrimination against women is “fundamentally unjust and constitutes an offence against human dignity”.  Though that “black fly in you chardonnay” may actually not be ironic, the fact that the initial “inclusive language” of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights begins to dissolve away. The absence of the inclusion of men is a little ironic, don’t you think.  

In essence, the objective of the first 20 years of work by the SWC was to legally build a level playing field which tried to establish equality between the sexes.  This work also inspired the United States in 1961 and Canada in 1967 to appoint their own “Status of Women” Commissions to evaluate the situation within their respected countries.  

These two national committees echoed the concerns of the UN’s SWC findings, and recommended measures to promote equality and women’s participation in both politics and the economy.  One interesting recommendation from the Canadian Royal Commission was to “undertake short-term measures, where necessary, to achieve it’s (these) objectives”.  What these “measures” were, and how “short term” they were to become some 25 years later, should be a concern for those that truly espouse the concept of equality.

The First International Women’s Conference:  Mexico City 1975

The year 1975 was chosen as the year of the first International Women’s Conference, to coincide with both the International Year of Women, and the start of the International Decade of Women (1975-1985).  The principle objective of this conference was to sustain the improvements already made, and to further “bestow the benefits” of equal opportunity on all.  In addition, the conference promoted “i) full gender equality, and the elimination of gender discrimination, ii) the integration and full participation of women in development, iii) as well as increasing the contribution of women by strengthening world peace”.

The inclusion of “world peace” was a major issue of conflict at the conference as it highlighted the major political/ideological differences that existed during the cold war.  These differences were principally between the United States, and the Eastern Bloc countries.  The United States promoted an “equality agenda”, and wanted to keep a narrow focus on what they believed to be “women’s issues”, whilst the Eastern Bloc promoted a “peace” agenda, wanting to incorporate issues like colonialism and Zionism into the discussion.  The United States considered these issues to be non-related, whilst the Eastern Bloc did not consider “sexism” not to be present in their societies; hence there was no need for an equality discussion.  This political discourse also haunted the following two conferences.

Some concrete developments that came about after this conference were the establishment of both the United Nations International Research and Training Institute for the Advancement of Women (UN-INSTRAW), and the United Nations Development Fund for Women (UNIFEM).  UN-INSTRAW was the leading research and knowledge management organization to promote gender equality and women’s empowerment using a “gender perspective”.  While UNIFEM provided financial and technical assistance to promote women’s human rights.  These two agencies appear to be the first to direct monies directly to organizations assisting women.  The first of the “temporary measures“ to be employed to promote the development of equality.

In addition, the convention for the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination against Women (CEDAW) was enacted in 1979.  It is in this convention the phrase discrimination against women was clarified as “any distinction, exclusion or restriction made on the basis of sex which has the effect or purpose of impairing or nullifying the recognition, enjoyment or exercise by women, irrespective of their marital status, on a basis of equality of men and women, of human rights and fundamental freedoms in the political, economic, social, cultural, civil or any other field”.

In hindsight, there are two other noteworthy observations that can be made from this conference.  Firstly, this is the first time that the term “gender” became dominant in the documentation related to SWC.  Secondly, the impetus from the Eastern Bloc to broaden the agenda to incorporate what could be considered “non-women” related issues.  Both of these will become much more prevalent 20 years later, to the familiarity of all who read this I am sure.

Copenhagen 1980

What was initially scheduled to be located in Tehran, was moved to Copenhagen as a result of the Iranian Revolution.  Though a Program of Action was adapted from this conference, this adoption was not by consensus as the political tensions from Mexico City had carried over.

In this Program of Action, the tone of the language began to change.  It cited the “reasons“ for the apparent discrepancy between the legal rights of women, and women’s ability to access those rights was blamed on:

  • The lack of sufficient involvement of men
  • Insufficient political will
  • Lack of recognition of the value of women’s contribution to society
  • Lack of attention to the particular needs of women
  • A shortage of women in decision making processes
  • Insufficient services to support the role of women, such as cooperatives, day care centers, and credit facilities
  • Overall lack of necessary financial resources

During this conference, again much of the dialog concerned promoting international cooperation, peace and security.  As well, there was much credence given to women’s struggled with colonialism, neocolonialism racial discrimination and apartheid.  It appears that the Eastern Bloc had gained the upper hand in deciding the agenda.  Both the American and Canadian delegations voted “no“ the conference’s resolution, but for all intents and purposes, delegates from the remaining countries began to fully embrace the Eastern Bloc’s “peace“ agenda.

The Program for Action called for stronger measures to ensure women’s ownership and control of property, their right to inheritance as well as child custody.  In addition, it was at this conference, for the first time, that domestic violence was explicitly mentioned in an official UN document.  The legislative measures recommended at this conference included both the ratification of CEDAW by member nations, and that nations enact legislation to accelerate full and equal participation of women, and to eliminate existing inequities between men and women.  This laid the foundation for additional “measures“ in order to promote equality.

Nairobi 1985

The Nairobi conference was scheduled to review and appraise the achievements of the UN’s International Decade of Women.  This conference has also often been cited as the “birth of global feminism“.

The conference found that generally the women’s movement had grown in number and scope, and that they represented an international force for equality, peace and development.  (Though the key findings of the statistics provided to the conference found that only a limited number of women had benefited from the improvements),  As a result, it was mandated that new ways to overcome the obstacles would be sought. 

Some of the recommendations to overcome these obstacles include the establishment of a “mechanism“ for women’s equal participation at all levels of the political process and public life.  There was also a call for the formulation of laws, programs and policies to harmonize the family and work balance. 

In addition, the continued discussion about domestic violence would lead to the appointment of Radhika Coomaraswamy as the first Special Rapporteur on Violence against Women, and the adoption of the UN declaration on the Elimination of Violence against Women (1993).  The conference also recognized that gender equality was not an isolated issue, but encompassed all areas of human activity.   This would result in the International Conference on Population and Development in Cairo (1994) beginning to recognize women’s health, education and rights a prerequisites for effective population control policies.

Beijing 1995:  The turning point for the Global Agenda for Gender Equality

The Beijing conference is the final of the four conferences to date, and provided a Plan of Action which has manifested in numerous national government policies/laws and programs that actively support and favor women.  In essence, all governments that signed on to the agreement have adopted a policy tool called Gender Based Analysis (GBA).  GBA mandates everything a government does must be subject to gender based analysis to correct for historical imbalances that exist.  It allows for the unequal distribution of monies and consideration to a specific gender.

The principle problem with this approach is that it is the domain of the Status of Women Committees in the various countries to present the gender specific data by which laws/programs and policies are enacted.  The Status of women committee is only required to act on behalf of women, and not men.  This is how the governments of the world can discriminate against men on all fronts, yet justify their actions as being, inclusive.  This is that “short term measure“ which if you are under 25 years old, has been in place since you were born.  In a future article I will explore how this policy tool has created a situation where Separate consideration is given to one group, But it is considered Equal.

I will allow Hillary Clinton to summarize it as she did at the conclusion of the Beijing conference.

Let it be that human rights are women’s rights, and women’s rights are human rights, once and for all. “