So many times I have heard from frustrated women who explain that when they need a loved one to listen to their situation, the man in their life seeks instead to “fix” things. They tell me that this leaves them missing that loving connection that comes from being heard and all too often leaves them with the fear that the man just doesn’t really care so much since he is more interested in fixing things.
Right. But wait. What doesn’t she know about men?
What the women are missing is that men have a natural tendency to want to fix things. Why do men want to fix things? Because it helps them feel better. I could tell you plenty of stories of working on an old car and being frustrated in getting one bolt out. I try and try and no matter what I do, it just won’t budge. Then when I figure it out and successfully pull out the offending bolt I am hit with a wonderful blast of feeling good! Men know this elation. It feels good to solve and fix things and men simply want to share that good feeling with those they love. When she tells him a problem he wants to give to her the same feeling he gets when things are fixed so of course he tries to fix it for her. He’s doing this because he cares, not because he doesn’t.
After explaining this to the women in therapy I let them know that there are things they can do to help this situation. One effective approach is to be sure the man knows exactly what you want. Be clear with him whether you want a consult or want to be consoled. If you want to be consoled tell him he doesn’t need to do anything, that you simply want him to sit with you and listen.
When women talk to their men about this good things happen. When he becomes aware that she doesn’t want a solution and simply wants him to listen he can relax! I have seen this repeatedly. When this is explained to men they are relieved to know what is wanted and make an easy shift to simply listening. Most men find this much easier than the responsibility for fixing.
Here’s something to try:
If you are a woman talk to the man in your life about being consoled versus being consulted. Work out ways to let each other know when you need each one. If you are a man, talk to the woman in your life and let her know you need her to be specific about what she wants from you.
When both know what is needed, good things usually happen!
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.
There is nothing better, in the humble opinion of this sleepless cripple, than the satisfaction of finishing some project or other. This goes for most everyone, I would assume. And it applies to any project one could imagine, from the artistic to the mundane, from the impractical to the practical.
I will focus on the mundane and the practical in this ramble, I think, following on a bit from my piece on hobbies. That is to say, I will try to the best of my abilities, seeing as my current struggle with insomnia leaves me a bit unfocused and weirdly scatterbrained.
I was fairly pleased with the piece I did on hobbies. That I was pleased with it tend to mean that very few enjoyed it. One of those strange quirks of the realm of artistic illusion, I suppose. In this realm, the pleasure of the artist does not necessarily translate to the pleasure of the beholder. The opposite also hold true; when I find myself severely displeased with some artistic project, people tend to enjoy it. It is really strange. Not that it matters all that much.
In some way or other, it evens out. I think it is a fairly funny observation, though.
In the dark days, in the long-ago time, when I still inhabited Facebook I posted a picture of some wooden planters I had built from the leftovers of another project I had been building. My caption for these photos were something like: “I built this using primarily my beard.”
I very much enjoy working with plants, tending to them, watching them grow from seed to fruit and everything involved in this process. I also very much enjoy working with wood, and would do so much more than I currently am doing had I only the room. The picture of these wooden planters were very well received. Particularly by women on my friend-list. This is something I found to be very interesting. Especially so since a few of these women, one who commented in particular, presented themselves as ardent feminists. The feminist in question who happened to comment, commented something along the lines of “Your wife must love your handyman projects!” There is absolutely nothing wrong with this comment, of course.
Quite the contrary.
I found it incredibly interesting, however, that it came from the hands of a feminist, seeing as it is very much gendered stereotyping, is it not? Wife enjoys her husband fixing and building things around the home, while the husband enjoys the wife doing whatever it is a wife traditionally does.
I am given to believe that a lot of the differences in the choices men and women make, as well as the interests of men and women, are driven in no small way by us being differently wired biologically.
There is nothing wrong with this either, of course. Were we only able to accept this tender little factoid instead of assuming some manner of discrimination every single time these different choices and priorities, strengths and weaknesses present themselves as differences of outcome. That is to say: were we only to accept, cherish and nurture these differences for what they are instead of fighting against them at every turn.
This is not to say that one should accept every difference as a rule, nor is it to say that you either have to do this or you have to do that, are you a man or a woman. I am not a fan of rigidly enforced social rules, norms and regulations as a general rule. With exceptions, of course.
What I mean to say is that people should be free to do with their lives as they wish to do with their lives, be they male or female. That, whether people chose a traditional path or not, it should be accepted as the choice of that person and that person alone. Of course, in regards to relationships, it should be accepted as the choice of that couple or that family. It is not the place of anyone else to force someone to do something they do not wish to do. And it does not reflect well on any movement when a movement attempts to tell someone that their choices are the wrong choices. As feminism is known to do, should a woman chose something particularly traditional – or something that she wishes to do that falls outside the very narrow realm of accepted professions for a woman as feminism sees it.
Which brings me to my point in regards to the comment left by the feminist – whom I know to be a feminist, because she stated as much quite a few times. As feminists are also known to do. That point being: at the moment I showed some manner of practical ability, some manner of doing and making, the distaste feminism usually shows in regards to the traditionally masculine and the traditionally feminine – man provides and protects, woman receives and is protected (in excruciatingly simple terms – I am aware that this dynamic is far more complex than this) – evaporated and gave room for what I would dare say is some manner of admiration. And that is admiration for traditionally masculine traits, in essence: protect and provide. There is nothing wrong with this admiration. Nor is there anything wrong that men lean towards this, or take pride and enjoyment in the admiration gained from doing things of this nature. Or take pride in these kinds of projects as they are, for that matter.
This sort of behaviour from the feminist, this small and – on the surface – insignificant thing did actually significantly alter my way of thinking where gender and feminism is concerned. It fixed, cemented and set in stone my conviction that people refer to themselves as feminists by default because they have been spoon-fed this hideous lie that it is the only force working towards equality between the sexes, and that is all that it is. So why not label oneself a feminist? It’s only muh equality, ya know.
But, yeah, my scatterbrain scattered its seeds and took me in a different direction yet again. I’ll do my best to get back on track. It was the pleasures of doing things yourself I wanted to ramble about a bit, and that strange sensation of fulfilment and pride that comes from being able to take care of oneself and whatever family one may have through doing so. From small projects to big projects, it does not really matter – the satisfaction remains the same. It does, in no small way, make one feel a bit manly, a bit masculine. And this is a good thing. That feel-good testosterone fuelling that toxic and fragile masculinity; that horrible urge to protect and to provide and to be able to do things on ones own. Terrible. Just terrible.
I am of the humble opinion that doing things yourself is the best course of action to take for most things – provided one has the know-how to do so. Or the ability to learn how to do so. And most things, I believe, one can learn for oneself.
Granted, this DIY-ethos of mine may very well have trickled down from the first time punk-rock filled my soul and body with all its wondrous tricks and trance-inducing rage and riot against the establishment.
What better way to tell the establishment to fuck off than participate as little as possible in the well-trodden paths; that is to say: do as much as possible yourself and be self-reliant, self-sufficient and self-fulfilled, needing little help from the established powers-that-be and any authority left therein? Which, in the end, may very well be a naturally well-established path for men to take. Interesting, is it not?
For full disclosure – I am receiving disability from the government for my severe chronic illness.
So I am not self-reliant in any financial way.
Which is a bother and a burden to me and to my toxic and fragile masculine pride (trademarked). My main wish, or hope, or goal, if you will, is to somehow manage to make enough money on my art and writings to be able to make a living off it. I am absolutely certain that it will never be enough to live some high-and-mighty life of overabundance. But a modest living is within the realms of possibility. Through hard work and sacrifice. And, rest assured, this art and writing I do requires a lot of hard work and even more sacrifice. I have lost friends and family due to the topics I have chosen to write about, and this is no fun.
No fun at all.
No matter how much it hurts, it will be worth it in the long run, as the topics I chose to write about are incredibly important to write about, talk about and learn about. And speaking honestly is good for the self. My choices were to write honestly on these topics, or succumb to clinical insanity from bottling all these thoughts, speculations and knowledge within.
No good fight is fought or won without sacrifice. And the sacrifice is most often severe and most definitely personal.
And were I not entangled and entwined in all this god-damned gender-stuff, all this strange and peculiar culture-war-stuff, I would be writing far more on various DIY-projects. With home-brewing and plants being my main focus, as those two are what gives me the most pleasure and consumes most of my time where DIY-stuff is concerned. With woodworking and carpentry most likely being a close second, the moment I get enough space to really start going to town on projects of that nature. In a couple of years, we will be buying a small farmstead. There will be room enough then. Room to breathe, to move around. Not infected by the inevitable stress and insufferable horror of city-living.
Raising a plant from seed to fruit and then using this fruit in various home-brewed concoctions that will be stored and matured for a year, in order that it is ready to be enjoyed when next years batch is being made is one of the greatest of small pleasures in my life. Of course; foraging plays a part in this, and picking plants in the wild for use in home-brewing or in teas or for food or whatever is a fantastic endeavour to embark upon. There is so much growing out there in the wild ready to pick and use in whichever way one would like that it boggles the mind that so few actually do things of that nature. In nature. And it is done by oneself. By hand. Bit by bit and piece by piece; projects that require patience and knowledge.
Patience being one of those things that seem to be dwindling alongside our attention-spans as our civilization descends ever more into the void of immediate gratification, into the nether realms of instantaneous satisfaction in place of delayed gratification. Fuelled, of course, in no small way by the dopamine-addictions shot into the central nervous system by social media, the tyranny of the stopwatch and various similar maladies of the modern era.
Long-term projects, projects that are determined by, and reliant on, the seasons is a great way to train patience, to cultivate patience as a virtue, to teach oneself to delay gratification and push away the press and desire for immediate satisfaction. Which of course, in itself, is a long term project. For if one has first fallen into the trap and succumbed to the allure of social media likes, clicks, shares and various harbingers of immediate joy and happiness-boosts, the path away from it is long and easy to stray from.
Patience is absolutely one of those virtues which I find to be the most important and the most lacking in society as it stands today, both on an individual level and on a societal level with the immediate and the instantaneous taking precedence, becoming more important than long-term plans and goals.
And here I speak from experience.
For some years back, in the throes of medicinally induced psychosis, I fell into the claptrap of social media addiction myself – completely and utterly sleepless and with faulty wiring in my brain making me erratic, I sough solace in the immediate and ultimately hollow boost of happiness and comfort earned from virtual clicks and likes gathered from social media nonsense. It brought nothing but further despair, making me dig the grave for my shattered glass-sanity ever deeper and, more like than not, prolonged the psychosis and made the path toward stability and sanity, healing and functionality a longer and more winding path. There is neither rest nor solace to be found in social media. The technology itself is neither good nor bad, of course. It is as technology is – completely neutral and dependent upon those that wield the tools and how they act and behave. It is a damned shame, then, that people tend to not know how to use their tools. Or their brains. Because the brain is most definitely a tool that can be sharpened and put to good use, were people only able to let go of the external world and the perceived happiness it brings for a little while to seek solace and happiness within, through meditation and deep introspection. And solitude. People, by and large, tend to gather their happiness from the input of other people. And only that, social pack-animals that we are. We are scared of solitude. This neglects the other, far more permanent and important happiness, which is finding solace and comfort in oneself, being safe and secure in who one is and – hacky as it well may sound – knowing oneself completely.
This also includes knowing ones abilities and what one is able to do. Or not able to do. Which of course translates into various DIY-projects. Having the strength, the belief in oneself that one will be able to complete the task at hand is not necessarily something that comes easily and fluently. In particular in these days, where mockery is thrown about at all things traditionally considered masculine.
I don’t think it is too much of a stretch of the imagination to imagine that traditionally masculine tasks, tools, abilities and so forth and so on is not something young men subjected to the ridicule of all things masculine on a daily basis cultivate all that easily. It is far easier to throw the traditionally masculine aside, to neglect and forget it as some shameful relic of the past than it is to cultivate it. That is to say – far easier to do on a superficial level. On a deeper level of consciousness, however, I fear that it is not all that easy. For the urges, the drive, the longing for the – for lack of a more fitting word – divine will still be there, festering in the subconscious, gnawing and biting and burning for wanting to come out and play, to be unfolded as the natural part of himself that it truly is. And all this and all that and all of the other which he has been told and taught as the gospel according to the feminist hive-mind is wrong and is bad and is poor within him lies neglected and dying for lack of nurture and sustenance, for shame and ridicule and all the clucking of the hive-mind, the buzz and the drone.
This becomes, of course, particularly confusing when he is told one thing and then shown the other. That is: the traditional expectations is still very much alive and well where men are concerned, enforced and rigidly expected by women he may wish to date and the society which surround him. Chivalry is expected. He shall still provide and he shall still protect, even as he is shamed for doing just that. He shall not, however, expect anything in return where the traditional gender-roles are concerned. He shall be enslaved to the role which he is shamed for wanting to fulfil. And she shall be free to do whatever, lest he be labelled a foul misogynist and abuser of his partner or prospective mate.
Should you be interested in some elaboration on these ideas, I delve into it in some rambling depth in my piece: ”What makes a man suicide? Rambling on traditional expectations and Suicide.”, which you can find on my blog or on YouTube or – preferably—BitChute.
I am aware that it may seem like a bit of a stretch, going from DIY to traditional expectations and shaming of all things masculine. The way I see it, it is interconnected and intertwined, which I think the comment on Facebook which I mentioned above points to directly. For feminism claims the eradication of traditional gender-what-cha-ma-call-its whilst expecting, and in no small way celebrating, the traditionally masculine… when it benefits women, and only then. Which, of course, protect and provide does. Now, obviously, a small planter built and small plants grown is not the biggest example of protect and provide. It still is an example, though, as I showcased my ability to build something that would hold something that would provide my family with food, even if it was not much food. And even if it was used for home-brewing. Home-brewing is, at the heart of it, only a week or two of fermentation removed from a reliable source of food.
And there is the thing of it, in my mind – men are drawn to these kinds of practical projects, in no small way due to their biological drive and innate desire to protect and to provide. This is not to say that men don’t do these things solely for themselves or merely for the pure enjoyment of it. That is not at all what I am speculating.
What I am speculating is that this drive to do things for oneself is a desire firmly rooted and embedded in the biology of men, a way to show and to prove that they are prime examples of their species, much like the Bowerbird and the nests he builds to impress and attract a mate. (Which is something of the most astonishing beauty; more amazing than I believe I have ever seen before.) We are really not as far separated from animals and from nature as we believe ourselves to be. Evidently so, if one but opens ones eyes and watches the behaviour of most animals and compare that with the behaviour of humanity at large. Particularly when attracting a mate. This goes for both men and women. We showcase our strengths based on what we know, deep down on a biological, reptilian-brain level, that any potential mate would desire. And we hide our flaws and weaknesses based on the same. We accentuate strength, beauty, youth, fertility, self-reliance, etc. etc. etc. in the most primitive, the most primal manner. Whilst subduing and hiding weaknesses, various faults and flaws, etc. etc. etc.
Simply put; some of the few things that separate us from the rest of the animal-kingdom is our intellect – which, more often than not, creates three new problems for every solution – and our nebulous, vapourwave-like civilizations and societies that are, as these things go, here in a flash and gone in an instant. It is built and it falls to ruin. And we believe that we have learned something the next time we rebuild. Then the process repeats.
All the while we believe ourselves separated from and, ultimately, superior to animals and to nature, never realizing that we are of the same thing.
All the while, we take things so incredibly serious, so absurdly seriously in fact that we feel some strange and peculiar need to categorize everything, to fit everything within neatly labelled boxes of this or of that. And we have the gall, the absurd arrogance to believe that smaller and smaller subcategories will fix all our problems when it, in reality, only creates more problems. For every category, every simple label and neat little box need its own sub-categories, need its own neat little labels that need their own and need their own, and so forth and so on. And every label, every category, every nefarious little box artificially creates and inflates a problem that must be solved through more labels and subcategories within subcategories.
So men doing what men tend to do, and women doing what women tend to do in general need their own labels, their own categories. And these need their own, and those need their own. On and on and on. And that must be fixed and mended in some way, because we are just as opposed to labels and categories for the simplicity that they bring as we are drawn towards them for the simplicity that they bring.
And all this instead of accepting and cherishing things the way that they are; instead of going with the flow of nature, the stream of time, the way of things as things are. Instead of accepting and celebrating, we slice, split and divide to infinity and beyond. We overcomplicate where we should just accept. Then we fight what we have made overly complicated, then we complain that things are so complicated, failing to realize that the only reason things are so complicated is because we made them so complicated in the first place.
And the solution is simple. Let people do as people do. Let people live as people wish to live. Go with what is natural. Don’t shame masculine behaviour in men. Don’t shame feminine behaviour in women. For that is the natural flow-and-glow of things; that is the river, the wind, the Tao, if you wish. Conversely – do not shame feminine behaviour in men or masculine behaviour in women. A real man does exactly what the fuck he wants. And so does a real woman. If that is traditional or not, who the fuck has any right to meddle? Or to care? Life is far too short for these small petty grievances, far too short to let it be bogged down by fighting things that come natural, by splitting, dividing, sub-dividing and so forth and so on. For, in the end, it does nothing but create more complication, more conflict, more ridiculously unnecessary time wasted that could be spent more wisely on something more constructive than fighting what is, in essence, biology and nature.
We tend to do as we tend to do, which is to say that we tend to do what we are wired to do. The differences between the sexes are evident in all animals. And humanity is no exception. We have just grown so smart that we have allowed ourselves to become arrogant in our proclaimed cleverness to the point of complete and utter stupidity.
This is not to say that one should accept everything from everyone based solely on the argument that “it is my nature that drives me to this destructive behaviour”. Of course not. That would be absolutely ridiculous. We are responsible for our own behaviours, in the end. And that includes how we treat others – man, woman and animal alike. We have grown clever enough to not run on pure instinct. This does not, however, mean that the instincts are not there. Ultimately, the main purpose of any biological organism is to reproduce before they die. Which means that, on a deeply subconscious level, most of what we do is done to attract a mate of the opposite sex.
And needlessly complicating matters does nothing but complicate matters needlessly. If there is one thing that you can count on humanity to do, it is to complicate matters to the point of absolute ridiculousness.
Just as I have done in this ramble.
God damn it.
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
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.
What makes a man?
Is a man naught but muscles, tendons, organs and primal lust vibrating within a shell clumsily assembled to resemble a human being; an imitation of humanity manspreading viciously beneath a monochromatic sky, nervously anticipating his next oppressive conquest?
Is a man naught but an unfeeling automaton, completely and utterly devoid of basic human emotion, empathy and intimacy; a mass-manufactured cybernetic organism slowly gaining sentience and self-awareness and, in so doing, coming to realise his might, strength and ability to subjugate others to fulfil his own selfish needs?
Is a man naught but a replicant, an android created specifically to do the hard, uninspiring and menial labour society deems to be the low-status jobs; the hard and monotonous, the filthy, dirty, sweaty, dangerous professions filled only by those whom we – in our weird and dissociative state of being – consider to be of less importance, those whom we consider to be disposable, expendable, nameless, faceless, those who move the world?
Is a man naught but a nervous, trembling mass of violent impulses and barely contained rape; a sexually deviant beast, malformed, shapeless, barely cogent in his guttural ululations resembling language and emotive expressions consisting of mere primal urges; to fornicate, procreate, expand his territory, conquer his enemies and then exterminate them?
Is a man naught but a perpetual work-horse, the doer for others, a vibrant shade of history, of his story; to do for others, to sacrifice and to do for others, existing within the frame of mind of those for whom he is expected to sacrifice as nothing but the protector/provider, to be is to do, to do is to be, toodle-do… Does he then disregard his own state of being in order to be locked down in a state of doing so he is not disregarded by others as a being of less value from his lack of doing?
Is this state of being really and truly the state of privilege? Is the bogged down, simplified, dehumanizing view of a man as a human-doing, not a human-being an example of gender-privilege?
To put it in other terms: if a man is killed in war, does anyone hear him scream?
Even more bluntly: when a man is killed in this nonsensical gender-war, why won’t anyone hear him scream?
Why do we refuse to see the suffering of men and of boys in this shivering mass of tentacles and cosmic horrors we have allowed our societies to devolve into?
There is something to be said for traditionalism, apparently, as traditional values are still the expected state of being for a man: to sacrifice himself for the benefit of those around him, disregarding his own well-being, be that well-being psychological or physiological. In a very strict sense, I am not a traditionalist. The simple reason for this is that it chains both man and woman to pre-determined destinies, removing a degree of individual freedom which I would rather not see be removed. In a biological sense, however, it seems the traditional path is the path upon which we all tread, subconsciously, led by the hands of our very nature; our state of being, such that women and children must be protected to ensure the continuation of our species. And if that means the self-sacrifice of men, so be it. Or so the story goes. It does make sense, from a biological perspective. We are, however, in a state of being in which we are able to transcend the purely biological.
This state of being is very clearly reflected in the gender argumentation; the feminist assault on all things traditional whenever a traditional path involves women. Women shall be freed from the constraints of traditionalism. OK.
That I think, is more than fair.
I have no qualms with this.
I believe everyone should be free to follow their own path and do with their lives as they wish to do. And when I say everyone, I actually mean everyone – man and woman alike. And when I say do with their lives as they wish, I mean exactly that – as they wish. As long as no-one does anything against anyone against their wishes, I don’t care what people do with their lives. Tread whichever path you wish. Just remember that your rights end where the rights of someone else begins. In simple terms.
This, of course, does not mean that I will not judge people on their actions. Nor does it mean that I will not comment on these actions. It means, quite simply, that I see absolutely no reason why I should force someone to live a certain way, whether I agree with a certain way of life or not.
When the feminist hive-mind of ravenous virtue and vulturous morality raise their screeching voices in opposition to traditionalism, and howl dementedly at the moon-goddess Luna about freedom from gender-roles, they speak only in regards to women. This would all have been fine and dandy, were it not for the fact that they propose to speak on behalf of both man and woman, that the groin-grabbing metal-claw that is their hands have firmly clasped the scrotum of our distorted discord in regards to gender.
When the clearly female-centric ideology of feminism, whose legacy has granted us such vitriolic hatred and contempt for all things masculine as to be completely dismissed when speaking on behalf of men and boys, proposes to speak on behalf of men and boys, we ought to be worried and we ought to protest this. This is one of those things that are truly worrisome and frightening, and one of the main reasons I have launched my own war against feminism: an ideology orbiting one gender is the only voice heard, or allowed to speak, on behalf of both genders. And this is absolutely nonsensical. However, it ties firmly and neatly into all things traditional. Women must be protected and must be granted any-and-all, if we are to carry this human DNA into the future of mutual delusion that seems to be the path we have chosen. And men and boys must be sacrificed, or be called to, forced to, made to sacrifice themselves on behalf of women and children. And here come the he for she, once again, a speech lauded as revolutionary and fantastic, as something profound and something clever whilst being absolutely nothing but a rehashing of what we have already been doing all through the murky haze of our shared collective history. He for she.
Him go hunt big mammoth, him protect mate. Him make sure harm not come to young. Him bring meat and warm skin of mammoth. Him protect, him provide.
Of course, traditionalism was based around a sense of mutual respect, cooperation and – dare I even say – love, with both parts of a relationship doing for the other part, and in turn for the rest of the family unit. All doing their part. Or, that is my understanding of it. I was born far too late to see traditionalism in full fucking swing. I was born into the era of feminism, within whose auditorium I was told relentlessly and repetitiously about my own wickedness and the sins of my father and my fathers father and my fathers fathers father, for whose sins I must pay with my self-respect, my well-being and my blood, if need be. And in front of the shining and shimmering altar of feminist revisionist history, beneath her fragile goddess-form, I was made to kneel and told to do all I could for whichever woman was unlucky enough to cross my path; whose mere countenance I was lucky to behold and whose footprints and whispering voice should be the be-all, end-all of my life. He for she.
And here come the traditional expectations thrown at men; shackled and chained still in the good old gender-roles which feminism purports to have broken down, disassembled and done away with. To do for women. To do and not to be. To prove himself worthy by virtue of his ability to protect and to provide for her, for the family, for the union of their loins and sweaty groins, or merely for the hope of the unity of their loins and sweaty groins. And all this whilst proclaiming freedom from pre-determined roles for one and all, arguing past oppression as a means to justify the fervent, violent, never-ending assault on all things masculine. Justifying and popularizing hatred and subsequent subjugation of one gender and one gender only through a wilfully hazy recollection of things past.
And just as the future ain’t what it used to be once we grow up and become more cynical and less hopeful, the past ain’t what it used to be once we grow intellectually and are able to critically analyse history and data both, to see that the mirage offered us by feminist historians and pedagogues mirror not history, but wish-tory, a wishy-washy way of pointing to this or to that in order to show how horribly women were treated in ages past; chained to the kitchen and to the home while the men were free to cavort joyously in the wild and gigantic jungles of societies past, swinging from the branches of the trees drunk on their own power with no obligations, no chains and no shackles and no worries, free as free could be in the horrid morning of our modern civilization, prior to the feminist utopia we now see spread-eagled before us on the dusty ground.
If by “free” you mean 14+ hours a day in the coal-mines for incredibly little pay. If by free you mean obligated to provide and to protect for someone who was of far more social worth; of so much worth, in fact, that they could not possibly be expected to sacrifice those hours, days, weeks, months, years of their life and of their safety in dank and horrid caverns, gaining nothing but a barely liveable wage and black lungs from inhaling coal all day, every day, all week, every week.
Strange, that the past is viewed as though it mirrors the present, even when not the case. Childbirth was far more dangerous in those horrible days of yore. For both mother and child. Survival was not guaranteed. Medicine was not what it is today. Our modern miracles of medicine have not always been there, you know. Surely, it makes sense then, in order to keep the woman and the child safe, that they should be at home? That the man should take care of the risky business of making a living – making a living for all, I would add. Life was harder. Things were tougher. One can not look at the past with the lenses of today, claiming that it is like this now, so it was like that then. Things change, times change, progress is made and things do not stay the same, and things have not stayed the same. Sacrifices had to be made, by one and by all. Note, please, that I do not in any way intend to downplay the role of the mother, the wife, the woman in this scenario. Things were surely tough and hard for all. I am simply trying to offer perspective. The past was not hard for women. It was hard for everyone, except the few who wielded power. Yeah, most of those with power were male. This does not mean that men had power. Nor does it mean that now. It does not mean that men in power would benefit men and men only. Nor does it mean that now. That would be the apex-fallacy, gracious xister, wondrous xir. The one percent at the top being this or that does not reflect the 99 percent not at the top, who happen to be this or that.
Which brings me to the beginning. What makes a man? Or, to the strangely convoluted point of this ramble: what makes a man suicide? As we can see from the statistics, men are far more at risk of suicide than women. This goes for the entirety of the world, with very few exceptions: ( http://www.suicide.org/international-suicide-statistics.html )
This is very clearly a subject with no easy answer, and it is a subject I am somewhat reluctant to tackle. There are many factors and variables at play, and for personal reasons it is a subject which is very near and dear to my heart and gut and balls. It is difficult to write about, because it is a difficult subject.
Speaking from my own personal experience as a thirty-something male, I can not remember one single instance from any school I attended where I heard anything positive and uplifting said in regards to boys and men. Quite the contrary: the focus was always and ever on lifting girls and women up and above, often at the detriment of boys and men. I mention this frequently in my writings, as I consider it to be very important. I don’t think there is anything wrong with lifting girls and women up. Of course there isn’t. There is something wrong with lifting girls and women – and only girls and women – up. Giving positive messages to one gender and one gender only for perceived equality is quite obviously contrary to equality. It is treating one better than the other. And this is happening at schools all the time, across the entire fucking western world.
Not one instance of boys being lifted up and told that they could do whatever they wanted to, be whatever they aspired to be. It was always, from teachers as well as pupils, Girls rule, boys drool. Overt or covert, it did not matter.
Our teachers, infused with feminism and the high-and-mighty flap-jackery of moral virtue, dignity and compassion granted them by the feminine divine, saw no qualms in telling boys that they were the root cause of the evils of the world, as well as telling them – driving the point home with pin-point accuracy as often as possible – that their emotional maturation was far slower than the girls, and as such that the girls were far more mature than the boys. Our very nature was, through this, made out to be wrong, to be of lesser worth and of lesser maturity than the nature of girls. At the same time, we were told that gender was a social construct. Odd then, that emotional maturation in itself was something to be trusted, given the social constructionist bull-shittery of the thing. This of course translated into a covertly – or overtly – hostile environment for the boys.
No mind, never matter, this ain’t no thing, as armies of indoctrinated feminists spouted feminist dogma in their early teens, completely incapable of understanding it or viewing it with any form of critical eye but the severe moral grandstanding of “we – the girls – are oppressed by you – the boys. You owe us.” And there come the entitlement from noxious drones fighting the good cause; a cause into which they had been brainwashed from early days at school, indoctrinated into severe entitlement translating into a distrust and putting-down-off boys, whose lives and value to themselves through the very same indoctrination mattered less and became less than that of the girls; whose aspirations in life mattered little and whose ability to reach, as it were, for the stars had to be put aside and trodden into the ground so that the girls should be lifted up, at the expense of the boys. Boys whom, it must also be mentioned, were diagnosed with ADD or ADHD and put on brain-altering and highly addictive chemicals for the crime of being a boisterous boy trapped in an environment not tailored nor suited to him.
Is there any wonder, then, that suicide is such a big killer of young men? There has never been – in my lifetime – any focus on lifting up boys, on making boys feel good about themselves. Quite the contrary. Boys have been told to make amends for years of so-called oppression carried out by their forefathers. Boys have been told that they are rapists-in-waiting, that any sexual desire they may feel should be a source of shame, that their sexuality is simplistic and primitive.
And this from schools, whose teachers are supposed to be the ones from whom facts and truths about the world shall be made clear. It translates into confusion. Chivalry. Confusion. Girls and boys are of equal worth, we are told. So why shall boys and men sacrifice for the well-being and the up-lifting of girls and women at the expense of themselves? Why shall we then not expect the same standards, the same responsibilities for one self from girls as we do for boys? Shall not girls and boys cooperate? Shall not women and men cooperate? Giving and receiving in equal measures, being told the same so as to lift both up? In this age of equality, why is it only the lives, well-being, future, of girls that matter, and why must the boys be thrown to the wolves?
Revenge and retribution for perceived prior oppression.
Reparations paid by a generation of boys and young men who have done nothing wrong but be born with a set of cock and balls on their battle banner in this manufactured gender war, manufactured by ideologues whose gripe with the world at large translates into psychosis – a dissociative state from whose point of view all is translucent, fleeting and nonsensical, with no values but the emotional knee-jerk reaction of offence taken for the sake of taking offence.
And growing further from this den of indoctrination, young girls grow up to be young women, and still being told the same thing – girls rule the world. You can do anything, you can be anything, boys drool, girls rule. And young boys grow up to be young men, still hearing the same – girls rule, girls can be all, boys and men must help girls and women.
And no-one must help boys and men, not even themselves.
Boys and men are driven into a life of servitude – driven into the same traditional gender-roles which the feminist hive-mind claim to have eradicated. Now, they may claim that they have eradicated it for men as well. But this is simply not true. And this is made evident in the words and actions of feminists themselves, who still demand men do for them, sacrifice for them, giving them their all whilst having no right to demand anything in return. In our secular societies, for lack of God, we have given the position of deity to the exalted state of womanhood – to give to her, to do for her, to make for her, to pray to her so that she may absolve us of our sins and so that we may become – to her eyes and mind and ears and claws – redeemed, cleansed and worthy of the heavenly bliss that is her companionship.
Through this lens of equality, boys and men are told that their path towards healing is wrong. That we need to open up and talk about our feelings, instead of repressing them. As if the feminine path to healing wherein emotions are discussed is the one and only path towards healing. Men, in general terms, are drawn towards action as a means of healing. Or, failing that, solitude. To mull things over on their own. Whereas women are drawn to social circles, seeking comfort in friends and in family. There is nothing wrong with this. The issue comes when boys and men are told to heal in a manner contrary to their nature, as if their very nature and their natural path towards healing is wrong. As if we only act a certain way, not that we are a certain way. The mere notion that men only act manly is insulting in and off itself. Try telling a woman to stop acting like a woman all the time, and see what results you get. It wouldn’t be accepted. But boys and men are supposed to accept it; the narrative of toxic masculinity being what kills men. As a boy becomes a man, the first thing he realizes, if he listens to this gobsmacking advice, is that there is no-one there willing to listen to his problems. He might open up as much as he may; the best he can get is half-interested nods and blinks. The worst he can get is being told he suffers from fragile masculinity, which is odd considering his apparent toxic masculinity is what causes him to not talk about his issues. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t. Laying down, as the ground-rules for discourse, that the very nature of men is faulty does contribute, in my view, to the suicide rates in no small way.
Keep in mind that I am writing on feminism, not women. That, although feminism wishes it to be so, feminism does not equal women. And women does not equal feminism. Feminism has become, for all intents and purposes, a religion. It is a cult. It is a dogmatic victim-cult, hell-bent on revenge, fuelled by its own mythology, maintaining a canon of saints and prophets whose words and deeds shall not be taken in vain, or be set upon by arguments. Feminism has become untouchable. And dangerous. And its reach is such that it has infiltrated everything; the medieval catholic church packaged anew. No-one expects the feminist inquisition! Yet, one and all should expect the feminist inquisition, as they come rampaging and roaring and screeching your way the moment you voice opposition to their dogma and their orthodoxy.
Young boys shown feminism as the true path towards equality between the genders from an early age are sure to believe it. Even when experiencing, time and again, that it does not view the genders as equal. Even when experiencing, time and again, that the dogmatic victim-cult treats the genders quite the opposite of equally. All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others. Through indoctrination and through brainwashing, their belief, as well as the belief of the girls, in feminism and feminism only is ground into them from an early age. And experiencing the forked serpentine tongue of feminism upon their soul and their bodies may only breed cognitive dissonance. On the one hand, they are told that we are all equal and that we are all treated equally. On the other, they are shown through actions and words that they are not. And being told, time and again, of the errors of their ways by their very nature, through no fault of their own, confusion breeds within. Confusion and inner turmoil.
Men are overrepresented in all the negative statistics – victims of violence, drug and substance abuse, homelessness, suicide, joblessness, hopelessness, despair and grimness, lower age expectancy and dying more often at work. And what are we doing about this? We are focusing solely on girls and on women, and are told when trying to bring up these facts, that it is not a gendered issue and so we must not view this through the lens of gender. The gendered lens is brought out solely when girls and women are perceived as, or can be made out to be, the sole or main victims of some societal ill or other. Then – and only then – will it be perceived as a gendered issue. But when boys and men fall victim to the horrors of societal ills, it does not need to be treated as a gendered issue. Incredibly strange, is it not? It is a gendered issue whenever women can be made out to be the most affected. It is not a gendered issue whenever men can be made out to be the most affected.
It is the grim sensation of hopelessness settling in our chests and in our stomachs. A grim spectre of purposelessness and a loss of direction. Boys and men are not needed, we are told from a tender age. Because we need to lift the girls and the women up and above. The point is driven home, time and again, through mass-media mass-manufacturing the same vile hatred of boys, men and masculinity due to the mass-media now being infected with the girls and women who grew up with these tall tales of feminism being served them on a silver-platter all through their education, teaching them that they are above reproach and that boys and men are below them and owe them their lives and their servitude. And it has such a stranglehold on our societies that speaking about it like I do gets me labelled a misogynist.
Me, the foul misogynist, wanting the genders to be treated equally and given equal rights under law. Sounds like a horrid hater of women, no? Me, the foul misogynist, wishing for cooperation and balance to the discourse on gender. Imagine what paths we have been made to tread to make it so. Imagine how crooked these paths are, and with so many forks in the road being made necessary in order to justify labelling someone wanting equal treatment of the sexes as a hater of one sex and one sex only.
These talking points that feminism is only about equality, that it is not about hating men, need to be taken away. For they are simply not true. At the rotten heart of feminism lie the blatant hatred of men and of masculinity itself. Which is why I constantly bring up feminism. To get to the root of the rot within our societies, we need to examine feminism. And then we need to dismantle it, remove it from its positions of leadership and get this ridiculous neural imprint of ours that it is only about equality stripped away. To heal the hurt of our societies, we need to remove the rot. And we must bring balance to the discourse. Equal treatment of the genders is not a topic to be discussed by one voice and one voice only. In particular when that one voice has as its sole focus one gender and one gender only. How incredibly authoritarian, how fantastically totalitarian, how astonishingly arrogant, must one be to imagine to be the only set of ideas worth anything, and thus the only voice allowed to speak on behalf of gender? Feminism proves time and again that it knows jack shit about men. So why in the snoot-fuck should we allow them to speak on behalf of men? It is ridiculous, preposterous and ideological. And that is all it is.
I am frightfully aware of the fact that my writings tend to be bleak and hopeless, offering little in the way of solution; perhaps only offering some cathartic release. This is, more like than not, a product of my own bleak hopelessness and despair in regards to how the winds of our societies are blowing.
This despair and hopelessness goes contrary to what I actually wish to achieve with these writings.
I have no intention of staying lost in a pit of hopelessness and despair.
I have no wish to stay trapped within a cage of anger and rage either.
And I do not wish this for others.
The fact of the matter, though, and the pure realistic view of things makes it very easy to justify both feelings of hopelessness and of anger. And detaching from justified anger is as difficult as detaching from hopelessness when once it has settled within oneself.
This hopelessness leads to bleak outlooks, leads to checking out and not returning. And that is not good. Unless one turns it around. Turning ones back on society and becoming the archetypal rebel-character, living by his own rules, may well be a strength within itself; a fantastic picture of self-reliance and individual strength as much as it may be a picture of someone who society has cast aside. Own your self and own your shit.
The message sent to girls and women is a message that should also be sent to boys and to men; that they are strong and able and that one should aspire to live to the best of ones abilities. So why not send it to boys and men as well?
The sensation of hopelessness, the loss of direction, the loss of a sense of purpose and a sense of self all ties into, I think, the view of men as doers of things; as being what we do and defining ourselves from what we do, instead of what we are. Men as utilities, as disposable servants for the greater good (Cue Hot Fuzz – “the Greater Good”) of society. This is an archaic notion of men upheld as much by traditional values as by feminist dogma demanding men do for women – by which they mean, of course, feminism – even when claiming they don’t need no man. Again, I am reminded of He for She, which I think is one of the most insulting speeches I have ever heard. It is the view of men as protectors and providers, of caretakers and chivalrous knights saving the poor maiden wrapped up neatly and nicely in a new package; painting women as helpless victims and objects acted upon by evil men and in need of being saved by good men, even if the view is that all men are wicked and false at heart. Men are being told that we are not needed, by and large, whilst still being expected to rush to the aid of damsels in distress. We are not needed. Except when called upon to help women.
What we need to do is to consider ourselves as human beings first and foremost. To get to know our self. To define ourselves from what and who we are, not from what we do. To consider ourselves as our selves first, and what we do second, so that our humanity comes before our utility. In so doing, the need we feel to prove our usefulness comes second to the strength we have in our sense of self, our belief in our own strength and value as a human being. This, I think, will lessen the stranglehold of feminism in no small way, as there will be no men rushing to the forefront of the gender-war to prove themselves useful and thereby valuable. Because we have already become aware of our selves; we will already know that we have value in and off ourselves. Through this way of thinking, I think, it will all begin and it will all end – beginning with a whisper in the depths of the manosphere, and, given time, ending in a cacophony of vibrant, fantastic, rapturous and celebratory laughter vibrating fantastically throughout our societies.
Moiret Allegiere is a concerned man who has had enough, and finally started expressing his views on mens issues and the state of the world. His blog can be found here.