In response to Laura Perrins: All together now, we hate men!,
Peter Evans wrote:
It’s always struck me as curious that these supposedly empowered and superior (or privileged and conceited, as some might put it) wimmin appear oblivious to a glaring fact: if you can organise a huge march to denounce the evils of the Oppressive Western Patriarchy, you don’t live in an oppressive patriarchy. Just as if you can get an article published in the Washington Post entitled ‘Why can’t we hate men?’ as that obnoxious ‘professor’ of grievance studies at North Eastern University, Suzanna Danuta Walters, did last year, you’re not being oppressed by men. You’re being lauded.
Janice Fiamengo, who has rapidly become one of my most admired critics of swivel-eyed feminist fanaticism, recently posted a video on what she called ‘tonic’ masculinity to counter the mad, venomous falsehood of ‘toxic’ masculinity. Any trait taken to extremes can be pathological, of course, but feminists live in a delusional world of fake extremes that they then claim to be characteristic of normal males.
So obsessed are they with ‘toxic’ masculine attributes (which the feminist-corrupted American Psychological Association has deemed ‘unhealthy’) that they remain obstinately and wilfully blind to the immensely positive achievements of the masculinity they’re so addicted to denouncing.
Physical violence, for example, may sometimes be absolutely necessary to prevent violence. Feminists, afflicted as they are by a form of malignant envy that makes them pathologically incapable of gratitude for the comfort and safety they take as given (when it was provided and built by male engineers, construction workers and tech geeks, to name but a few), have no concept of military valour, of the ultimate sacrifice that soldiers are willing to make to defend and protect them.
Another feminist-APA sign of toxicity is ‘not wanting to appear weak’. While in extremis this can lead to the kind of villainous hypermasculinity seen in criminal gangs, the more typical version of it that, for example, young boys practise and hone in their journey toward manhood through sports and competitiveness, results in fortitude and self-control, without which very little can actually get done.
Feminists have a pathological dearth of gratitude and can’t even acknowledge amazing but enduring feats of normal masculinity. Fiamengo mentions the men who died on the Titanic so that women and children could live, the male soldiers who liberated the concentration camps, the First Responders on 9/11 who ran into the Twin Towers when everyone else was running away, the heroic divers who saved those young Thai boys trapped in a cave.
Men and women balance each other out, they complement each other, they improve one another, they make the greatest double act of all. Feminists see this as nothing but a struggle for power against a misogynistic patriarchy.
All of which leads to one dismal conclusion: because it’s founded on a godless religion of envy and hatred rather than love, feminism becomes the resentful suspicion that some male-female couples, somewhere, might be happy. In its quest for an impossible Utopia of absolute equality (by which they mean sameness), the only outcome they can ever achieve, as indeed they have already, is equality of misery.
Time for this benighted religion of delusion and envy to be consigned to the ash-tip of history, methinks.