First they came for the male feminists, and no one spoke out—because no one likes them, not even the female feminists.
Dearest faithful reader, I’m a man who finds something to dislike about nearly everything and everyone, yet even I find male feminists to be especially grating—they’re perched wayyyy up near the top of my “Don’t Like ’Em” list. The very term “male feminist” seems as masochistically counterintuitive as “black Klansman,” “Jewish Nazi,” or “white Democrat.” Sure, one expects women to be feminists, just as one should expect all living organisms to be motivated by self-interest, but there’s something downright gender-traitorous about male feminism. Self-loathing is not an attractive trait in any of God’s creatures, and these dweebs are the Benedict Arnolds of the Invisible Biological Brotherhood.
It only took me a cursory perusal of Google Images to get the strong suspicion that most males get into feminism for the same reason that females do: because they are failures at embodying their gender’s most attractive traits. In other words, females become feminists because they’re failures as women, while men do it because they’re failures as men.
The white knight gallops in quickly and wants you to look at his shiny white horse, because if you took a long hard look at him, you’d never agree to get on that horse and go galloping into the sunset with him.
Seriously—have you seen many of these self-proclaimed male feminists? When I see all these sullen dorks standing like political prisoners holding their “I NEED FEMINISM BECAUSE…” signs, I wish that one of them could be honest and say they need feminism because they’re not naturally attractive to women.
I therefore posit that in at least some cases, male feminism is a mating strategy for men who aren’t getting laid on the virtues of being men alone. So they switch gears and attempt to get laid on the merits of proclaiming to be feminist “allies.” The “allies” thing is all lies. It is a sneaky way of trying to appeal to women by loudly proclaiming that you hate the type of guy who normally appeals to women. I believe the most reasonable explanation for the very existence of the modern “male feminist” is rooted in evolutionary biology: Calling oneself a male feminist is a deceptive and despicable little shame-dance, a pathetic self-puffing mating ritual that beta male lizards do to garner even a scrap of female attention.
It’s like going to some pro-marijuana rally because you know someone there is going to have weed. If you hang around enough girl feminists long enough and claim to be a feminist, sooner or later one of them will fuck you…maybe…right?
I theorize that these genetic-lotto losers—who tend to be either too fat or too skinny yet are invariably too unhandsome—obviously aren’t going to sow much seed being the uninspiring specimens of near-manhood that they are, so they appeal to feminine wiles in a sort of Hail Mary pass.
But their untrained and unskilled minds don’t grasp that you don’t have to be a male feminist to get laid; in fact, all the available evidence suggests it’s an impediment. I would go so far as to pay top dollar for verified scientific evidence of a woman lubricating to the sound of a man saying, “I’m a feminist.”
For all that they claim to be women’s natural allies, these schmucks don’t have the first clue about female psychology, or they wouldn’t need to turn to feminism as a sort of invisible date-rape drug. To these self-centered bitter little men bouncing around in their baby bubbles, it’s not really about empathizing with women at all, because they obviously don’t understand how women operate; it’s about scoring with women. It is in this sense that male feminists are more misogynistic than, well, you know, the misogynists. Failing desperately in the categories of natural charm and sex appeal, male feminists seek to gain access to women’s bodies via deception.
Male feminists are therefore, by my own tortured logic, the biggest enemy that modern women currently face. They excuse and thereby enable the worst excesses of female feminist behavior while symbolically cuckolding their own entire gender on the outside chance that one of these girls will sooner or later consent to giving him oral.
Not that they’re any friend to men, either: These are sort of shady, desperate characters willing to sell out their entire gender for the distant promise of a handjob from one of the ladies in his Pilates class.
I loathed male feminists the first time I gazed upon that disgusting photo of a naked John Lennon curled up in the fetal position nuzzling next to human waste-bomb Yoko Ono. Not only did the Bitterest Beatle find positive traits about the female gender at large—he found positive traits in Yoko Ono. It may be gilding the lily to say I’m glad he got shot, but again—Yoko Ono.
My instinctual gut revulsion for male feminists grew deeper throughout the 1970s and 1980s as Alan Alda and Phil Donahue taught a whole generation of well-meaning yet gullible TV-watching pubescent males that it was sexy for guys to be feminists. They’re the ones who killed it for males, at least white ones, on TV. (Kurt Cobain would do the same thing for white males in music about 15 years later.)
I am not above, however, finding tremendous amusement in pioneering male self-hatred how-to books such as the literary canon of John Stoltenberg, author of The End of Manhood and Refusing to Be a Man. Although he identifies as gay, Stoltenberg hated being a man to the point where he cohabitated with pickle-faced female water buffalo Andrea Dworkin and even married her.
I also get a right ripping good bloody chuckle from male-feminist bloggers online at such websites as Good Men Project and XY, safe places where male feminists share their stories of how to be men without being anything that being a man traditionally entails. You can find such self-gelding castrati in homemade YouTube videos and the painfully self-deballing video marvel “Dear Woman” of a few years back.
But nowadays—with what was once a man’s world awash in wormy, smarmy, pale-pony-riding white knights who were weaned on fantasy movies but are afraid of their own shadows—I feel it is incumbent upon me to call out this bullshit “movement” for the underhanded form of rape-by-deception that it is, was, and will forever be. Male feminists are, by their very dishonesty, all rapists of the worst kind—the kind that don’t even have to rape anyone to be rapists. Male feminists thus deserve all the shaming they already give themselves, and more. This “movement” must be struck harshly at the root and pulled violently from the ground, never to lay seed again.
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