Posts Tagged ‘Andrea Dworkin’

Catharine MacKinnon

Today I declare the Save the Vagina's Before it's Too Late initiative in honor of Catharine MacKinnon, feminist legal scholar, and author of the Vagina Monolith's, and the Soccermom Diatribes. Now make sure you get home before midnight, Cindy!

Let’s get the the dull, academically fraudulent, sex negative, sexist stuff from two notoriously angry, manipulative, controlling women, out of the way right from the start.

But first! A public service message: Do you sit awake nights, worrying about hungry, sick, starving vaginas all over the world?  You CAN make a difference in the life and health of vaginas.  SAVE A VAGINA TODAY!  by donating to women’s cervical cancer research.

Now back to the porn wars: Andrea Dworkin and Catharine MacKinnon got an anti-pornography statute passed  that is still lurking on the books in the City of Minneapolis:

Pornography and Civil Rights
A NEW DAY FOR WOMEN’S EQUALITY by ANDREA DWORKIN and CATHARINE A. MacKINNON
Copyright © 1988 by Catharine A. MacKinnon and Andrea Dworkin
“Pornography is central in creating and maintaining the civil inequality of the sexes. Pornography is a systematic practice of exploitation and subordination based on sex which differentially harms women. . . .”  Their completely new legal approach–in which pornography is defined as sex discrimination and therefore a violation of civil rights–would allow anyone injured by pornography to fight back by filing a civil lawsuit against pornographers.
—————————————————————————————————————————-
Wheeew, smells like a cat box up there–reeks like the turds of  little captive animals that claw furniture and ask you for food all day long, and then snuggle all night. MeeeEEEow till I get what I want, claw furniture if I don’t….

So dualistic–so negative–so typically feminist, but indeed, undeniably, pornography IS differential in the treatment of the subjects involved. Civil rights? Meh.

I better go to the dictionary on that one. Not Civil rights, silly–we know how hard feminists work against those!

But Pornography–wha tis it? The free download of the Sage Dictionary , a dictionary for linguists, gives me a common working definition of pornography: Creative activity (writing or pictures or films etc.) of no literary or artistic value other than to stimulate sexual desire.

Pornography depicting coitus, cunnilingus, felatio, sodomy, BDSM, and the many other etcetera’s of sexual action is everywhere you look–three mouse clicks or less  from every man, woman and child in the ‘civilized’ world of cyberspace.

 [warning: you are three clicks away from free, virus- free, relatively harmless adult sexual material here ]

That may or may not be a bad thing, but the dialogue about porn is important, and definitely headed in the wrong direction–because it is actually a dialogue about speech. You can decide for yourself. I will wait as you peruse the hundreds of various links–after all, their actually is something for every-BODY.

Straight, LGBT, TS, hard and softcore bodies everywhere you look–we are all different.

But the more important dialogue about pornography has yet to take place, and that dialogue has its roots in the same definition of pornography that is in common use, a dialogue that is the most important dialogue of our next decade; one that hasn’t taken place yet because it has been constrained, AND restrained.

War pornography. War pornography is how we bully young males into submission, and objectify them, via images of men as tools, objects, and perpetrators of violence. Good men, bad men: soft-core, and hard-core males. Either way, men are more disposable than used condoms, and always presented in dualistic terms.

It begins with shame. Male shame. Shaming males into submission.

Pornography, by the definition, involves ‘creative activity’; that portion of the definition is not really in dispute by anyone. Porn is a created product, and is often quite creative as well. The big bone of contention seems to be the next part “other than to stimulate sexual desire.”

What does THAT mean? We are all different–stimulation begins in the brain.

But I have a bone to pick with such a vapid generalization [Sage… dictionary, definition 1, not 2, because definition 2 at least uses the words ‘flavor’, and ‘tang’ to describe ‘vapid’? The use of the letter V anywhere can arouse me, by design of the current feminist propaganda [V-day and the Vagina Monologues are sooo in your face every year, whether I want it or not].

But ‘flavorful tang???’  I am blowing my top…Even the propagandists missed that shameful naughtiness in the word ‘vapid,’ while they were hyper-focused on ‘vaginas’ [ Sage, vagina: definition 2 a moist canal in female mammals]. Western propagandists make their money from pandering to vaginas.

Flavorful tang…I am going full bore boner!  My penis is suddenly a weapon of thought! An underwear-agent in a propaganda war!! Tang, is like ‘poontang’; and then,  by a stretch, the coochie is tangy??  I am dick-dog rape crazy, according to the feminist literature.  I gotta run out, and rape all of the holes in Coochie right now! Holes, plural, IN coochie?

 Poontang and coochie  are words that likely have Chinese or Korean origins, as their form mirrors Korean and Vietnamese language structures. But the popularity and use of these words directly mirrors American imperialism in Asia. Cu Chi, a city in Viet Nam, is most likely where we get the word coochie. Ouch–look out for the booby traps, and holes full of bamboo spikes…but I digress.

No wonder all the boys, and radical feminists, are lost on Asian porn..

I apparently can’t help myself, according to the rhetoric of the current crop of feminist propagandists. I am a natural born rapist. Engendered male, porn is only one of ‘my tools’  for oppressing ‘all’ women, and especially gender feminist, lesbian academics–both male and female– who feed off of them. These people actually, physically,  wage war on me with the rhetoric of ‘men and porn’, by making me a sexual suspect in their rhetoric, and then, an actual suspect under the law.

Then, they invest in Hillary Clinton’s war chest, so she can save America from the Libyans. Either way, it wasn’t, and it won’t be anytime soon, me raping women overseas, for male or female warlords, or anywhere else to feed American women’s children with a soldiers pay.

But full-bore boner-words, phrases, ideas, and pictures that make me horny–even if no one is around!? I might make my own money off of that–and I will fight to be able to use words, images, pictures and text to understand my world.

Me–all by myself, drowning in the Onanist impulses of symbols and language, I can conjur fantasies of sex–without those ‘real’ women like Kate and Dre!  I really don’t need pictures–they are just nice accessories to remind me exactly why I prefer my own company over the company of weirdo’s who want to interpret what I feel for me, and extrapolate what it ‘could’ mean–or try to  tell me what ‘my’ mind is thinking, before they sweep out their own heads.

Nurse Ratched: Aren’t you ashamed?
Billy: No, I’m not.
[Applause from friends]
Nurse Ratched: You know Billy, what worries me is how your mother is going to take this.
Billy: Um, um, well, y-y-y-you d-d-d-don’t have to t-t-t-tell her, Miss Ratched.
Nurse Ratched: I don’t have to tell her? Your mother and I are old friends. You know that.
Billy: P-p-p-please d-d-don’t tell my m-m-m-mother.

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0073486/quotes

Shame on me. More shame on me….guilt, guilt, guilded male–and then more shame on me. They did all the thinking for me, and porn is killing, and oppressing everybody, most of all, women, children,  and vaginas. Shit–what do I do now to assauge my guilt?? Do I combat the capitalists who drop depleted uranium on children? Do I just vote for Hillary in the next election, because Dick Cheney supports her?

No! I should run out and save a vagina today! Blame it on da pornz! War is all about oppressin’ da wiminz.

Dear Woman: Here’s some free or low cost sperm–hell, you can have my nuts–but please raise a cop or a soldier who will protect the vaginas, and your vagina! Here’s a pedestal–keep your vagina up there! I will even cross the street if it helps you to trust me again, and makes you feel less scared of my weiner!

There’s some stainkin’ thankin’…

Think for yourself, and everything turns out o.k. I promise; but let them inside your sexuality? Let them define you? They will wage war.  You become the deviant in their construct–because you let them inside!

And they will tell you more about themselves in one sentence about their own construct of a purely hypothetical construction of ‘you’ than you could ever learn about them by torturing them to death in a snuff porn film. Just don’t tell them that even idiots know the CIA is the only American talent agency that actually makes snuff porn.[Nick Berg: poor dead guy; and here, too.]

What is striking in every way is how narrowly focused the gatekeepers of knowlege are in attempting to limit my full-bore brain-boner: academics, militarists, feminists,  and anti-feminists have been  limiting the discussion to thoughts about ‘womens bodies’ for centuries, instead of the vagizillions of other forms of pornography that don’t seem to ruffle their feathers.

My first full-bore boy-boner was the dictionary.

We should regulate the sale of dictionaries to children–because if even words can make us horny, what is next?  ‘It’s for the children‘, they always say–then they shut them up early, and keep the kids illiterate.  Besides, they rage, one of them damned Webster’s dictionary people supported the Fugitive Slave Act a hundred and fifty years ago!(1)

What next?? The children?????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So, in the feminist paradigms, language is the true oppressor. It’s high time to outlaw dictionaries. And apparently, boners kill women and children, and are big enough to intrude on civil rights.Never mind the inherent contradiction when they tell you men have tiny dicks…

How easy it is  to obliterate, or ‘snuff’  from the definition of pornography the portion of the definition that talks about “creative,” and focus instead on “stimulation of sexual desire,” and in so doing, to create the appearance that everything, and every image with a woman is potentially pornographic, and thus, every image without a woman is somehow NOT pornographic, or that images that lack women are nearly snuff porn.

So what ARE those type of images, devoid of patriarchy? Oh, yeah–empty headed Fabio…or Pat Califia’s dick…

What is commonly called "girl porn",--romance novels-- aren't even close to the 'meat' of the issue of women's actual objectification of men.

What is commonly called "girl porn",--romance novels-- aren't even close to the 'meat' of the issue of women's actual objectification of men..

Just try to imagine, an image without women. Next thing you know, imagination is imagery, according to them, time to clean your mind of it’s filth–your mind, I remind you, not their projections.

These folks are counter-productive in the least, snuffing themselves out like that. Counter-productively snuffing me, too, with their preemptive, eternal rhetoric of objectification.

It leaves  the nasal impression–the stench– that images of men ‘with’ women have a lurking and deviant sexual intent; images of women with women is ‘slavery’ performed before patriarchy–despite kyriarchal advancement; images of BDSM,or leather boys and girls  in Hitler gear, schtupping each other; ‘ one  is re-enacting ones own subjugation,’  but mostly, the actual stench is the carcases of dead heterosexual men, and ‘othered’ men and women not worthy of eroticism, mere bodies, filthy, and pornographic in or of ourselves, tossed into a dumpster, or a heap of fire in yet another war zone that was created to feed hungry western capitalists, both male and female.

Men have been denied the truly erotic–they tell us that images of women and ‘others’ are objectifying and pornographic, and images of men are not. You don’t have to be gay to figure out that cuntnundrum*

But simple analysis of any and all images tell’s us with certainty–that you must ask yourself, or ask the image,  not those who tell you that the moon is made of Swiss cheese, and poke holes in you for impact. Images provoke thought, and thought can produce desire. Words do that too–ALL WORDS. Humans have evolved to communicate with each other.

Hence, communication in any form is the essence of the erotic; the seeds of desire, regardless of the method of transmittal.

But what IS that desire?  Is it exclusively physical and sexual, a thought that leads only to action related to that thought, as they try to force us to believe? Each and every word, image or filmic representation spoken or shared one person to another is a symbol, a communication of some form of desire, a piece of the bigger desire. Yet a desire to talk about the meaning of words does not equate with any action other than to talk to someone about desire, or it’s opposite.

Add images and films? They are just word enhancers.

And words that we say only to ourselves about actions, or non-actions are certainly meaningful as well; if not the singular most important thing, they are the second. Our inter-persona, intra-psychic communication doesn’t necessarily equate with a desire for actual ‘sex,’ at all, any more than a desire for ‘communication’ of our ideas, some of which are about sex, but some of which are about other things too.

Does looking at the expensive dress in the window equate with buying the dress? Sure–for the rich, the hedonistic, the bored, the selfish, or the foolish. Those who are bought, buy as well. But what if you can’t be bought?

So, if anything IS or can be pornographic, it isn’t the ‘creative’ portion of the definition. We are all producers of creative impulses, and many enjoy the intellectual processes caused by viewing  porn . But definitions of porn are in fact the relational, superimposed and interpretatational, relative, objectification of intentions  by others with whom we interact, and communication which takes place, or could take place from those objectifiers have the explicit intention of preemptively circumventing your personal interpretation of your own intentions.

It is not a concrete, monolithic absolute that porn hurts viewers at all, or even most actors involved.

Porn is fantasy communication, like thoughts one could have for a conversation with Gandhi, Dworkin, or Freud. Porn creates a psychic space that is an intellectually, or emotionally safe distance from which to have a fantasy dialogue with others–and with yourself. THAT is where you stand the largest chance to begin fulfilling the ‘desire’ that images can create–in defining for yourself what you are perceiving, and then communicating that desire–in words to others, if it all works out.

And viewing idealized body images increases personal satisfaction for some people.It’s no stretch to imagine similar things about naked bodies and sex.

Adding the gross misrepresentations and anecdotes of abuses that have taken place in some forms of sex pornography is akin to adding hot-pepper to your morning oatmeal, and telling you that’s what oatmeal is.

Viewing images of dogs can invoke feelings of affection, security, comfort, and a thus, a whole host of other feelings potentially related to sexual expression that could take place in a home  (and which I suspect can also stir up the oxytocin releasing, orgasm producing mechanism in the brain). Emotions are, at their base in the lymbic system,  related to those that produce sexual feelings; images of families, or images of children ( see dogs and families), are no stretch if one wished to conflate images and political agendas.

If we accept the paradigm that viewing pornography does NOT equate with having actual sex any more or less than images of dogs equate with family, home or security, we cannot say that images and video’s of nude people are pornographic any more than the word ‘vapid,’ snapshots of Fido, or militaristic  propaganda pictures of flags waving.

Those who are in porn enter the psychic space by our own consent–whether they are ‘victims’ or not is a separate issue entirely.

Yet if we accept the feminist and militarist, and by rote and association, the judicial definitions of pornography as a tool facilitating ‘rape, power, or sexual violence, that enslaves, or steals from women and children’ ( a common pro-war feminist trope*),  we must also then say also that sexualy stimulating pornography for them are the body counts in the news, the stories of conquest of ‘othered’ men, images of ‘othered’ men cleaning up dead male bodies,  images of men at Abu Ghraib, or images of dead babies who have been exposed to uranium, because these images stir up feelings of ‘power,’  whose only relation is to ‘desire’.

Patriarchy and modern feminism are inseparable mates in the creation of pornography.

Images of power relationships cause arousal, according to the definition, and MacKinnon- Dworkin, and all other sex negative feminists. So, the  images of disemboweled, oppressed, enslaved, or dead men, women and babies, whether written or photographed or filmed, are not merely ‘vacant’ images [vacant, ala Sage: definition 1 , cancel officially; definition 2 ‘leave behind, empty], but also images that cause dialogue;  leads to creative impulses, and hence, as per the puppy= security paradigm, can cause female arousal which can be termed sexual.

The debate has been constrained thusly: it is most always limited to discussing women’s bodies, women’s sexuality or women’s perspectives about sex; it is always spoken from one monolithic feminist to another; and it has in recent years engaged the gay community, and sex positive feminists in other dialogues about other forms and perceptions of sexual stimulation through pornography; it has informed the discussion that there are many perspectives of what is sexually stimulating.

But it is the actual communication that has provably opened the doors to sexual liberation–talking to each other makes us horny.

Yet the dialogue has never sufficiently addressed every day images of men that on the surface are not  prima facie sexually stimulating; by THEIR definition.  Yet images of men, dogs, and families have the wider effect of being ultimately, sexual in their evocation of sexual possibility, sexual power, and their portrayal of the myth of home and family, where masculinity and femininity in union, and in dialogue, ‘create’.

These types of images cause dialogue–and  oxytocin levels to rise in the brain.

The soldier in uniform; the basket ball player in sweats; the  cop beating a peace protester or a mentally ill man to death is especially dear and stimulating to militarists and “radical” feminists who openly call for the exertion of power to cause male death; and images of  men conquering men certainly causes some pornographic dialog window to pop-up for these ‘domestic’ types.

And words which women use to describe men, writing what they have written about men– entire women’s studies departments at any major university that discuss, or employ images of men;  any ‘liberal’ or ‘conservative’ blog which employs competitive themes,  and any discussion where power is present, is a hotbed of pornographic representations of masculinity. The spaces wherein definitions of pornography or men are debated, are urgent, hormonally charged, verbose environments full of pornographic illustrations–and thus, are also pornographic by definition.

Which is why I am NOT a feminist–nor an anti-feminist, or a militarist: because according to the truth of MacKinnon and Dworkin, “exploitation and subordination based on sex which differentially harms women, “ is what porn is.

That might be true indeed, if I were a woman.  Differentially only means different. And if I could choose, and not let them continue to choose for me, or pursue me against my will? I choose NOT to have my body photographed at Abu Ghraib; photographed while being water-boarded,  have a mugshot taken, or be photographed dead.

Differential? Of course, by definition, nude representations can be sexist–differential only means different. That certain forms of pornography consume the dialectic? Preferential in the dialogue? Definitely. Men are over-represented in most imaginings of male–represented in a pornographic manner–dead, and truly voiceless–we expect that of men.

We expect that by their definition of men, and patriarchy, without ever discussing women who are pro-war in the dialectic and in their votes, whether feminist or not is subsidiary to the fact that they conceive men for war.

But I might add, theirs is a literally vapid, vacant definition, too, because male voices are missing in that discussion–prohibited from openly declaring any ideas thatrelate to themselves as exploited persons; voices missing even in their own bodies, which are conceived as war objects, while female voices, their panderers,  and their patrons just bitch about camera angles and perspectives.

It leaves ME feeling used, and counting days till I pass on into the next life–if there is one.And there isn’t.

[ cue the oompa-doom-papa porn music]

Given the choice, I would give those murderous fuckers–those voyeuristic, predatory  bitches and bastards–all the boner shots they want of me reading my dictionary–into eternity, if photos, and pornographic representations in words can live that long.

And get ready–where are those sun-glasses? But here’s the cum-shot: You can all go fuck yourselves for awhile (but in a sex positive way, of course), until you figure out if you are able to know what porn even is: as the Felix Frankfurter once said in  Butler v. State of Michigan about obscenity, and which applies to current feminist ideation in this area”you burn down the house to roast the pig.”

Or the sows who capitalize on your ignorance–your silence– in this dialogue.That perverse, feminist, domestic-war-mongering has been conflated for decades with naked, living people and pornography, and today seeks ownership of the industry–not moral high ground, but pure profit potential.

And limiting the definition of pornographic representation to women’s bodies? Now that’s obscene, even by the early definitions of pornography.

But you aren’t. I am not.

War is.

Yet no one really see’s it, ever, much less ‘get’s that’, because of all that pussy in your face. And now, I am not talking about the raging Coochie, or the Poon Tang,  either. I am talking about you. Walking talking porn of one sex or another, even if you never lifted the cover of Playboy magazine–a magazine that CIA feminist, and publisher Gloria Steinem is attempting to own and control right now.

Now go cast some stupid vote for Them or theM, a vote that kills, maims, or chemically alters the DNA of some actual babies, and  ‘othered’ men– their fathers no matter which side you are on.

But stop worrying about internet porn. It will outlive you. Your son, if you have one,  may not.

*trope: language used in a figurative or non literal sense. In this case, a myth of culture that is espoused by militarists, feminists, and so forth, which is encouraged and enhanced by the presumption that only women and children comprise a ‘literal’ family, sans males or fathers.

*cuntnundrum: the illogical logic that is employed in feminist rhetoric. Like Christian rhetoric that says “first their was G-d,then everything eklse, so, everything =G-d,”  radical feminists posit “patriarchy, thus it’s all mens’ faults.’

1) Peoples History of the United States, Zinn, Howard. pg.177 (1995 edition, chap 9, ‘Without Submission’ )

Here is an extreme example of how “lookism” affects men.

How does one begin to explain what has been done to men in America? The war on men is never ending. I watch in abject horror as one man after another: one son, of one mother after another; is swept, like garbage, into a bin at the rape factory.

And, sadly, I know why they become what they become.Being subjected to rape and torture can make you angry. Being denied justice, or even remaining silent can cause you to want to pay it back.

Imagine a world where mothers cared about sons, before it’s too late. Imagine a world where children, especially the boys, are protected from the police—before they feel that they have to kill the police.

It isn’t the fathers that aren’t there: IT IS THE MOTHERS WHO ARE.

You know it's an Andrea Dworkin index when ...

Image by poppet with a camera via Flickr

Here is why nice guys finish last–if at all–in the feminist discussion: women lie, men die. Got that?

And I can prove it to you!

Andrea Dworkin was a monolith indeed. She wrote Mercy as an act of revolution, and a courageous one fingered salute to patriarchs whom she felt had let women down.

She was at war with the idea that women are not believed.

Or, so she said that’s what she was at war with… but her writing is basically a long, drawn-out coming out of the closet, that is helped by her father, and discouraged by her mother.

There are feminists, and then there are CIA-backed feminists, andeven they don’t always know what the difference is, much less what sexual games go on between a daughter and a mother, which Andrea touched on for a minute.

But more often than not, they agree that dubious methods of story telling, and manipulation of data in the pre-writing of a narrative is the best way to arrive at truth.

Very much like religious people who try to disprove scientific fact by stating ” it’s not in the bible; it isn’t truth,” feminists agree that “a feminist didn’t say it; it isn’t true,” like the recent case of the Women’s Funding Network, and Craigslist, which was debunked as junk science, but funded anyways!

Dworkin betrayed her father, and threw truth out the window  for fame, money and and pussy.

The facts were irrelevant there, in that idol she was crafting. The truth is irrelevant here, now, and only the power of one lie to make it around the world in a day is the detail that becomes fact to this version of feminist thought.

So a closer examination of truth is warranted.  Here are the facts so far: Andrea Dworkin created an arguably monstrous image of men, and fictionalized, fantasized, and publicized Mercy as a tale of  incest, despite its contradiction of her own experience; and in order to be believed.

What a way to coral off the competition for the pussy supply!

Her own actual, personal story of sexual dominance games with little girls, and later, women;  and her sexual displays in front of her mother are largely  irrelevant in her tales, as compared to her drive to move men aside; and  her necessity to claim to speak for incest survivors is her imperative, and yet, in her autobiographical notes, we find her justifying her use of lies in her fiction.

Never mind that fiction is inherently a liar’s game, or that all fiction is contrived. Think instead that women actually believe the fiction, and despite never having read Dworkin, adopt her position by rote, via whatever meme is circulating about paternal incest.

And especially never mind that Dworkins largest and looming issue was her tantalizing, sexualized incestuous desire for a relationship with her mother—Andrea’s leap from the abject was to stumble bull-like through the mirror.

That is feminisms biggest non-secret so far, and difficult to grasp, because women’s ‘truths’, as Dworkin rightfully posits, are often  not believable.

So: after describing her close, productive, nurturing, and creative relationship with her father, and her  sexually frustrated relationship with her ice cold and controlling mother, she talks about Masada, the famed site of a sort of Jewish last stand, and extrapolates it into incest with fathers in general, and decides that writing about incest with fathers is more important  than writing about the great relationship she had with her father, Harry, which she describes thus:
“I trusted and honored him. I guess that I trusted him to love me more even than to take care of us. In an honors history seminar in high school, the class was asked to name great men in history. I named my father and was roundly ridiculed by advocates for Thomas Jefferson and Napoleon. But I meant it– that he had the qualities of true greatness, which I defined as strength, generosity, fairness, and a willingness to sacrifice self for principle. His principle was us: my mother, Mark, and me….”
She describes her father in glowing terms.Then, she states that her best qualities as a writer came from him as well.
“I think that he did abandon me when I was in circumstances of great suffering and danger. He was, I learned the hard way, only human. But what he gave me as a child, neither he nor anyone else could take away from me later. I learned perseverance from his example, and that endurance was a virtue. Even some of his patience rubbed off on me for some few years. I saw courage in action in ordinary life, without romance; and I learned the meaning of commitment. I could never have become a writer without him.”
Then, on her writing, and the great fiction of fathers and incest. Most importantly, I think this is the root of the meme that we should “believe women” when they talk about incest, and then it’s later version, rape, which is evident below, in highlights.

And most importantly, and in context to her need to be believed, note that she had no degree in anything but fiction. And here are her words about how she decided that crafting a story with a lie as its premise was what actually drover her writing:
“I’d like to take what I know and just hand it over. But there is always a problem, for a woman: being believed. How can I think I know something? How can I think that what I know might matter? Why would I think that anything I think might make a difference, to anyone, anywhere? My only chance to be believed is to find a way of writing bolder and stronger than woman hating itself–smarter, deeper, colder *This might mean that I would have to write a prose more terrifying than rape, more abject than torture, more insistent and destabilizing than battery, more desolate than prostitution, more invasive than incest, more filled with threat and aggression than pornography. How would the innocent bystander be able to distinguish it, tell it apart from the tales of the rapists themselves if it were so nightmarish and impolite? There are no innocent bystanders. It would have to stand up for women–stand against the rapist and the pimp–by changing women’s silence to speech. It would have to say all the unsaid words during rape and after; while prostituting and after; all the words not said. It would have to change women’s apparent submission–the consent read into the silence by the wicked and the complacent–into articulate resistance. I myself would have to give up my own cloying sentimentality toward men. I’d have to be militant; sober and austere. I would have to commit treason: against the men who rule. I would have to betray the noble, apparently humanistic premises of civilization **and civilized writing by conceptualizing each book as if it were a formidable weapon in a war. I would have to think strategically, with a militarist heart: as if my books were complex explosives, minefields set down in the culture to blow open the status quo”
So, as I dif around for the truth of whether or not Andrea was in Minneapolis in 1971, I won’t draw any conclusions. I will have to see what Preston’s people have to say about it, but for now, she herself readily acknowledges that she lied about her internalized experience with paternal incest, and in so doing, created a boogieman that indeed covers over that boogie woman inside herself.

To me, that seems worth examining.
*Her only chance to be believed was to lie, as she aptly notes, and portray it as truth. In so doing, and in creation of a monolithic woman, she justifies her position that lies carry more weight than truth itself.
** she betrayed her father specifically, not civilization. In doing so, she not only succeeded in hiding her mother’s and her secrets, but also perpetrated an ignoble lie. We will never know what sort of sex play she engaged in with her mother, and Dworkin has been evasive on that topic, merely noting that she was essentially scolded by her mother, but only then, after some period of time displaying herself toher mother in sexual play. Call it revolution, call it what you will; I call it and her, a liar by omission ( and she infers as much when discussing her relationship with her mother)

Cover of "Mercy"

Cover of Mercy

Andrea Dworkin‘s Fiction 101: “Lie, for effect.”

The roots of the feminist ‘men are doormats’ dilemma, and why nice guys lose, finally, and always, in feminist theory. They can’t help  themselves–literally! They are dependent upon female narratives.

UPDATE: As predicted, DSK was found innocent and absolved of any wrong doing in this matter, and currently, Naffisatou Diallo is ‘seeking a confrontation’ to avoid being deported, and to vindicate her untenable position.

I am trying to track down this odd obscure detail about Andrea Dworkin, which is probably going to be harder than explaining why the wage gap between men and women is either a  clever falsehood, or a mis-representation of women’s choices.

And even harder than trying to explain why hiding the identity of Dominique Strauss-Kahn‘s rape-accuser, Nafisatou Diallo, is the western version of ‘putting a veil on women.’

Here is Naffisatou Diallo below– false rape accuser, and drug money courier. Her false accusation against Dominique Strauss Kahn could throw the French presidential election.

Tolerating One Lie, Leads to Generations of More Lies: Naffisatou Diallo, false rape accuser

But back to obscure facts for a minute. It seems that John Preston, gay activist, author, and founder of the now-defunct Gay House, Inc. in Minneapolis, remembers Andrea Dworkin being in Minneapolis sometime in 1971.

She claimed she was in Amsterdam at the time as a “battered wife.”

I haven’t the time or the resources to track down everything that feminists claim as truth, and I have learned the hard way that truth to them is not factual, or even ascertainable by standard methodology. Truth is monolithic, not individual, and collective, not personal, so collective lies become truths, and personal truth becomes a lie.

Such is the case in the genesis of Dworkin’s work Mercy, which I will address below. Mercy is also a great part of Dworkin’s belief in lying as an imperative to creating new truths, which is not necessarily ignoble when old truth constructions don’t work anymore but it IS dubious and non-factual nonetheless.

Nor do I want to waste too much time on tracking down one attention getting manipulation of facts, or conflations of statistics after another, like the latest inflation of statistics, or sketchy evidence on sex trafficking by the now soundly debunked Schapiro Group.

But I have a hunch I can find some data about this one claim. After all, Gay House was right up the block from one of my homes.

I am seeking the data because I have a theory that modern feminism is a co-option of womens voices, and a product of CIA social engineering. Sounds all hoolie boolie, huh?

But not so hoolie boolie when you think about a few things:
1) it is now well known that Gloria Steinem was a CIA operative—so much so that Betty Friedan questioned CIA involvement in the women’s movement, and

2)  Dworkin herself was a curiously mobile, though rather penniless  individual who crossed borders, and crossed gender identities so fluidly: not bad for an uneducated girl, until you take into account her affiliation with Steinem[…]; and

3) modern feminism is so deeply allied with the subversion of domestic discourse, and allied with police power that falsehoods are widely circulated as truths—subjectivity has overcome objectivity in truth telling, so much so that the latest ‘study’ of the exploitation of teen prostitutes need only base its assertions on “lookism,” rather than hard data, or what the rest of us know as “facts”.

And then, when you realize that the false rape ideology that drives them, and is popping up all over the media [Assange, DSK , etc.] became a memetic device around the same time that Steinem was sleeping with the CIA chief, and also running around with Henry Kissinger, the great war chief who brought us the severed ears fingers and  hands of Viet Nam, and the sawed off feet of Guatemalan Indians some years later.

Together, they devised perhaps the most clever plan ever of capitalist imperial conquest; and devised one of the best smokescreens against truth in history–next to the bible, of course.

Here, have a look yourself: the word rape is a very popular adword, and a cash cow for bloggers.

Rape is a popular Google Adword--bloggers make money with rape!

But the weight of just one lie can wear you out, and make you feel like nothing is worth it—that life itself is not worth living if lies are the vehicle to truth, or as truth is more commonly known in feminist circles, consensus, monolithic, collective female consensus. And that version of truth is even heavier with the agency of the state behind its telling.

Even so, I am trying to lift Andrea off of my shoulders, and get to the bottom of a simple fact.

More later….

End Child Sexual Abuse Foundation

Image via Wikipedia

So what are the  desires of powerful women? What is it that ‘turns them on’ beyond power? Where does their healthy urge merge with deviance, or illegal activity?

I suspect the answer is that what turns them on is what turns anyone in power on: the tools of power–rape, violence directed at the poor, child molestation, class and gender oppression, the committing of crimes withouit accountability, and social control. Profiles exist of such people, but these profiles are directed against, embodied, and engendered male.

The difference is that no one has yet questioned what these women are, or what is really beneath the surface of their desires, or how much they fit the sexual profiles of power they themselves have established.

But here below, is a clue, from a recollection of Andrea Dworkin, militant one-winged anti-male feminist, activist against rape, oppression, enslavement, and pornography. In the published recollection, she describes a “love” for her mother, Sylvia ( she does not ‘name’ her father in that same piece) that was in her own words, her “first great romance.

Andrea Dworkin, childhood sexual experience with her mother, and other children.

 I have idyllic memories of childhood in Camden: my brother, my father, and me having tickling fights, wrestling, on the living room floor; me in my cowgirl suit practicing my fast draw so I could be an American hero; a tiny sandbox on our front lawn where all the children played, boys and girls together, our Eden until a certain year when the girls had to wear tops–I may have been five but I remember screaming and crying in an inarticulate outrage. We girls played with dolls on the stoops, washed their hair, set it, combed it out, dressed the dolls, tried to make stories of glamour in which they stood for us. I remember being humiliated by some girl I didn’t like for not washing my doll’s hair right–I think the doll was probably drowning. Later, my grandfather married her mother across the street, and I had to be nice to her.

I was happier when we moved from dolls to canasta, gin rummy, poker, and strip poker. The children on the street developed a collective secret life, a half dozen games of sex and dominance that we played, half in front of our mothers’ eyes, half in a conspiracy of hiding. And we played Red Rover and Giant Steps, appropriating the whole block from traffic. And there was always ball, in formal games, or alone to pass the time, against brick walls, against the cement stoops. I liked the sex-and-dominance games, which could be overtly sadomasochistic, because I liked the risk and the intensity; and I liked ordinary games like hide-and-seek. I loved the cement, the alleys, the wires and telephone poles, the parked cars that provided sanctuary from the adults, a kind of metallic barrier against their eyes and ears; and I loved the communal life of us, the children, half Lord of the Flies, half a prelude to Marjorie Morningstar. To this day, my idea of a good time is to sit on a city stoop amid a profusion of people and noise as dark is coming on.

My question is: what exactly is she re-living on those steps, and why is she seeking her memories of children, and children’s games to re-live it?

We have a father encouraging heroism in the young Andrea; a father establishing a sexual angst based but clear boundary by stopping the play at tickling, but we have a mother who is omnipresent, omniscient, and possibly controlling a child’s deepest fears about death and harm in every situation, and yet that mother is adored.

Dominance in sexual situations; dominance in sexual situations with children; secrecy in dominance games with children. Are glimpses into Andrea Dworkin’s—one feminist among many, but what a feminist she was– inner motivations.

The key, in my opinion, to understanding the motivations, libidos, and power quests of women isn’t going to be found in asking patriarchy the same old questions about men, but from understanding the scant empirical evidence of powerful women’s self-edited, or self- suppressed, self-censored, coded, and hidden dialogues.

In Andrea’s case—and Andrea who became grossly overweight in her later years, like many child victims of maternal sexual abuse—she played out her early sexual power quests in front of her mother, as she said, and her early sexual experimentation, and its direction occurred “half in front of our mothers’ eyes, half in a conspiracy of hiding.”

That conspiracy of hiding is the biggest clue, along with the fact that it was Andrea, and other girls who had other mothers, that played such things out—in front of mothers.

I personally believe that women’s rape fears are the internalized, non-verbally cued, female embodied, and maternally engendered fear that fathers would not approve of the behaviors that mothers instill, encourage, embody, and condone, as long as those behaviors take place in front of women.

And those women, just like cops, like to mediate wider social interactions, and to see what young vaginas are up to, voyeuristically, from the outside looking in.

Andrea never had children, and I suspect it is because she knew herself well, and protected them pro-actively from herself, and her mothers female embodied, voyeuristic Lacanian gaze. Later Andrea extrapolated that gaze into her views of pornography, and projected that gaze onto men in general, rather than being a true hero, and discussing her interactions of childhood sexual dominance play that could likely have been encouraged, embodied, or manipulated by her mother, and the mothers of other girls whom she played with.

That is my pure specualtion of exactly what it is that might lay beneath the surface of feminist projections about male sexuality, after all, the evidence i so scant- but I believe that underneath women’s dialogues lurks Andrea, on the steps, still looking for kids to play with and dominate—and another mother to look at her approval seeking, dominance-based sexual displays.

Rape culture is a concept that nobly, and rightfully challenges the co-option of our bodies, and the existing social order, and attempts to describe a social condition of oppression of women by the co-option of their bodies and choices, and often rightfully asserts that American society, and western society in general, is a society based on the control of womens bodies, and women’s choices in reproduction, and sexual expression.

But this one-winged philosophy denies male experience within that same rape culture, and stifles male voice that could actually enable the tilting of the world —in one great direction–, ensuring the end, not of patriarchy, but of dominance and control models of social and sexual interactions.

That is, dominance and control is what turns these women on and gets their sexual wheels turning, which is likely why they make appeals not to common men, but rather, they constantly appeal to police and state authority for “protection from rapists.” Perhaps womens sexuality is embodied as an object for those who are into voyeurism, rather than objectified as objects of ‘sexual conquest’-an actual physical action, rather than a reaction, to female exhibitionism.

That women are upset at the disjointed reality of the potential actualized and sexual male gaze, rather than the sexualizing female gaze and its voyeuristic, tacit approval of sexual displays, becomes evident whn exploring the formative years of powerful feminists.

Feminist theory stands directly in the way of ending patriarchy, basing its argument from semi-supported, a priori evidence, and studies—endless studies—of purported male sexual behaviours, rather than a posteriori evidence of its own longings, tendencies, and desires in unison or cohesive agreement with human nature, or their own.

In doing so, they have inserted themselves very much like rapists via the vehicle of police state social mechanisms, into a dialogue that is divisive, non-inclusive of reality, and sexually harmful.

Some militarists and extremists in the feminist camp have taken an extreme posture that all sex between men and women is forced or coerced sex, and that all interactions between a man and a woman are exploitative of what women essentially are.They have also suggested that all representations of women and sex that take place in such a sytem are pornographic, and that these images of women do not represent the actual sexuality of women.

They also have implied in most cases, and stated at times that the penis is a tool of oppression, a weapon of control, and also have theorized a world where women rule, and that such a world would give women access to men’s penises for the purpose of sperm production, and conceiving children.

Their views also hold that rape of women–and by extrapolation—children, is the primary aim of men in general, and the particular and specific aim of men in power—the patriarchy. They were not all wrong, and especially as concerns that eras Feudian hypotheses that held that girls engaged in fantasizing about being raped by their fathers, when in fact girls were experiencing actual sexual molestation and abuse; yet they have yet at any length explore abuse of sexual abuse of children by mothers, or particularly by their own mothers.