Illustration: «Dreams of Solitude», A3, Moiret Allegiere, 2019
At the moment of writing this, I am in the process of quitting cigarettes for the umpteenth time. I might admit to being a bit testy. Maybe even slightly grumpy. In particular since previous attempts at quitting cigarettes have only ever lasted until the sun comes out and I have a beer or a glass of wine outside in said sun. It seems such a futile task; a week of withdrawals and weird bodily sensations to be broken so easily by the weak and flimsy will of someone who really fucking enjoys his tobacco and his booze. Preferably at the same time.
Do not expect anything but pure, unflattering grump today.
The seeming futility of the thing is, obviously and clearly, a deep-seated longing within myself to keep smoking cigarettes, the clear fact of the matter being that I do not want to quit – I have to quit, for reasons of health and of economy.
Both of which can kindly go fuck themselves as my entire brain and body screams out for cigarettes in a longing and drawn-out howl. If anything, my subconscious is very talented at telling me exactly what I don’t need and is marvellously skilled at rationalizing exactly why I need what I don’t need. In this case it is cigarettes, which have been a steady friend since I was thirteen years old, broken only now and then by some lovingly implemented absence.
Don’t worry, cigs, I’ll come crawling back to worship at your feet and inhale your divine essence once again!
This is the sensation of futility at play; the mind-numbing and reality-twisting mental gymnastics skipping about within this rambling psyche and incoherent subconscious of mine.
Now, of course, this is a very defeatist attitude. Seeing as I am aware of it with all my nicotine-craving madness and silly pop-psycho-babbling nimble fingers, I think it is more a case of not wanting to admit to myself that I really do like cigarettes. Not need, as much as like.
So, why this ham-fisted introduction; this personal non-issue presenting itself as some cleverly forged introduction to the ramble at hand?
Well, two words, really.
See, lately I have been thinking about male-only and female-only spaces, and the necessity of both. There should be nothing wrong with having a chosen space for only women and a chosen space for only men, where women are free to act as women amongst women and men are free to act as men amongst men. There is a need within all of us to be around like-minded people, and despite all being individuals, the common man will have more in common with a fellow common man than he will with a common woman, and vice versa.
Gender being the great state-sanctioned divider that it is, by the grace and whimsical will of feminism, men will almost always alter their behaviour in the presence of a woman. The great primal force of sexual competition at display; a biological drive and need to impress a prospective mate, whether or not one is already tied down with another mate. Male primacy at display; the hierarchy in full fucking force. There is nothing wrong with this. Nor is there anything good with this. It is what it is, and that is all that it is. Just as oestrogen and testosterone are neither good nor bad, it merely is what it is and that is all there is to this.
This behaviour, I am fairly certain, is something most people are not aware of. Not consciously. It just happens, laid down with pile-driving force after aeons of sexual selection.
Now, to be perfectly honest: I believe women to be more aware of this tender fact than men are. I also believe that they tend to use it to their advantage more often than not. Considering the fact that women are the gatekeepers of procreation and the ones who do the sexual selection, being more biologically important and far less disposable than the male of the species, it really is no wonder.
There is always this drive from the forces of feminist fury and frivolous freak-outs for male-only spaces to be shut down; to have their doors opened so that women shall, must and need enter.
The justification for this is, as it always fucking is, some pretence of horrid and foul sexism and discriminatory behaviour from men in the general direction of anyone with a pair of tits and ovaries. It is the most obnoxious ghost of patriarchy-present besmirching the hallowed name of gender-inclusivity!
On the other hand: female-only spaces are quite alright to the ruptured mind and not-all-there psyche of the feminist. Because women, being the frail and delicate flowers that they are, need their safe-spaces away from men where they are allowed to be women in the vicinity of other women and just do what women do around other women. This demand for a space free from men is driven by a word, fluctuating and wildly incoherent; “Equality”.
Under the preposterous pretence of equality between the sexes, one sex is not allowed a space for only that sex and one sex is allowed a space for only that sex. Because women must be safe from men. And men don’t need to be safe from women. Men pose a threat. Women are only sugar and spice and everything nice.
Well, then, if men pose this horrid and trite threat towards women, why is it then so important for women to enter male-only spaces?
One should, were there any semblance of logic in this vile pit of hate and misandry that is the feminist cauldron of nonsense and gibberish, believe that women would shy away from male-only spaces instead of forcing the doors wide open for women, under the shamelessly derivative word “discrimination”.
Women are so scared and terrified of men that they need a space for only women to be safe from men. At the same time, being so terrified of men, they need to be included into spaces where there is only men. One assumes, to combat their own ridiculous pathological anxiety.
Have you learned nothing, young apprentice? There must always be women present so as to make certain and make sure that men do not have too much fun. Men can not behave properly unless they are under the strict supervision of a woman. Preferably a feminist woman, to make sure that the joyous cavorting do not get too joyous or out of hand. There is, to be sure and to be certain, only a thin line separating male camaraderie from the re-implementation of patriarchy-past.
This is seen, time and again.
Over the course of the last decade or so, as “nerd-culture” has become mainstream and kinda hip and cool and oh so trendy; hobbies that tended to be largely tended to by men suddenly got an influx of women being interested in it. From the trendiness of it all. This is not an issue in and off itself, as these hobbies have never been men-only spaces.
They have, however, been predominantly male.
The issues arise when women enter these hobbies and expect to be catered to and expect the men therein to alter their behaviour so as not to offend her delicate sensibilities.
That is some grade-A level entitlement right there.
Imagine being so conceited, so entitled, as to enter a space and demand to be catered to by the ones being in that space from the very beginning.
Imagine being so far up ones own ass that one demands that ones mere presence in this space will alter that space to fit ones own needs, and then not considering this as pure, shameless and unfiltered egotistical selfishness!
There have always been women in these hobbies, for sure. After the main-streaming and hip-and-trendy image of nerd-culture laid upon the pimpled ass-cheeks of the world its highly constructed counter-culture convenience, however, these women seem to have been forgotten by the ones who came after, riding the tail of the trend and wanting inclusivity for the sake of inclusivity; demanding altered behaviour from those who tinkered with these hobbies for years and years. The women who were there for the sake of being there and dabbling in this hobby did just that – they dabbled in this hobby. Gender did not matter. What a whimsical thought, no? That gender don’t matter none, but ones interest in this hobby.
Now – the reason I am bringing this up, despite it never being a male-only space, merely primarily male, is for the similarities between the behaviours seen with the influx of women into nerd-culture as it became trendy and mainstream, and what happens when male-only spaces are deemed discriminatory and forced to open their doors to women. I could probably digress a bit here and point out that, even when a space is not male-only, but occupied by mostly males, it is painted as discriminatory towards women solely for being mostly male. Because men and women don’t have different interests, of course. And more men than women must necessarily mean discrimination from the horrid men therein, being pawns of the patriarchy and foot-soldiers of female oppression.
…Because admitting to different interests might just also be admitting that there are differences in the male and female brain leading to differences in both interests and in outcome. And we can’t have that, since all and one are tabula rasa and that is all they are. Therefore, it must be discrimination. And when it is discrimination, women are free to do whatever they wish within this space so as to end the discrimination, never-minding and no-mattering both the men and the women who co-inhabited that space from the beginning, paying no heed to the fact that it was predominantly male because the understanding is that it was the fucking interest in the god-damned hobbies that started the space in the first fucking place.
And so, in spaces designated to be, by choice and by design, male-only spaces, women will enter, men will alter their behaviour – or be forced to alter their behaviour – and the entire place will fall straight on its face as the woman expects to be catered to. Even if she is the sole woman there.
Her delicate sensibilities goes above all, and merely the whispered word “cunt” – not aimed at her, but being a part of the male-hazing-male-bonding ritual could have serious ramification as this delicate flower might take offence to it. Men acting like men do in the presence of other men, is frowned upon.
A woman might take offence, boys, so change this at once.
There is more to it than that, of course. The simple fact of the matter is that men open up to other men when men do things together.
Men also have this beautiful and remarkable ability to be together in silence, doing something, enjoying each others company, and finding solace in the fact that they are there together.
No words need to be spoken. There is just an understanding there, something that can only be shared and understood by men being men together.
Men tend to share their concerns, their lives, their fears, their trials and tribulations, when men do things together. That is when and how men open up to each-other, and it is through this we find solace in each-other. Men stand shoulder to shoulder with their friends, and eye-to-eye with their enemies, as the saying goes.
This is not to be understood as anything but men standing side by side, doing something together and, in standing shoulder to shoulder, not having to watch the other for fear of an attack. It is trust. And when there is this trust, men open up. Or they don’t, knowing that this trust is there, this mutual love, honour and protection, is there and is something to take solace in and be comforted by. Sometimes, there just is no need for words.
Something women, in particular feminist women, don’t seem to understand, painting this as a sign of toxic masculinity when it is quite the contrary – it is self-assured and mutually recognized safety; a bond that goes incredibly deep and a trust that goes beyond mere words.
If women are so determined to enter a male-only space, one should expect that she was interested in what goes on in there. One should think that she would be interested in partaking. She should not, then, expect altered behaviour and altered this-or-that to suit her needs and her temperament, surely? for instance, take a look at the men’s shed in Australia, which of course have their doors opened to women, and see what’s going down.
I would dare propose that it is up to men to not alter their behaviour; the onus is on men to act like men do in these spaces, and not fall for this demand for altered behaviour. It stands to reason that, if women want to enter male-only spaces, then they should submit to the rules therein, instead of demanding they be changed and altered for reasons of her being there.
Clearly; it is easierto just keep male-only spaces male-only and female-only spaces female-only. This would be the best for both. When the demands are there to open the doors for women, however, I see no reason why men should alter their behaviour to impress and protect the women entering. Of course, blue-pilled and stupid as we men tend to be, the woman has to be protected. And so her word has to be law, even if she is in a space meant to be a space where men can be men together with other men and not having to think about impressing some woman or other.
And, in thinking and in doing what we do, there is no room to share these weaknesses, these fears and flaws and trials and tribulations of ours with the other men in these spaces, because being seen as weak by a woman means that we are flawed, that our genetic material is not good enough for procreational fun and fancy. This biological need to prove ourselves is what makes the divisive drivel of feminism so powerful, so untouchable, I think: men must protect women, and time and again we must prove that we are able to protect women. And so we must cater to every whim and fancy of feminism. Otherwise, we are weak, we are not protectors.
Might it just be another feminist power-ploy, a demand for the eradication of everything masculine whilst demanding a celebration of all things feminine? Even when playing on the traditionally feminine and the traditionally masculine? Women are so strong and powerful and brave and heroic that they can not be in a room with men being men without shaking and trembling in horrified anxiety; without men having to stop being men for fear of ruffling her feathers!
Oh, see here, boys, this place could surely use a woman’s touch.
And there lies the beating heart of it all, this forced futility, this nonsense.
Feminist demand the dismantling of male-only spaces → the male-only spaces are dismantled, women are allowed in → feminist demands the men alter their behaviour as it is a scary place for a woman → men complain, are not heard, then start leaving → the space is now a feminist space, men complain, are told they can start their own space → men start their own space → feminist demand the dismantling of male-only spaces. Repeat ad infinitum.
That is the futility of it all; there is not only a call to dismantle male-only spaces and allow women to enter – the space must also conform to the feminist orthodoxy, or be labelled a toxic place for women in need of all manners of interventions and calls for men to check their privilege and think about how their behaviour impact the women in these spaces. Men are morally inferior to women, and so need moral guidance from the women when they are in a space that used to be their own.
Now, of course, the blatant double-standard of the thing is bad enough; the allowance of female-only spaces and the dis-allowance of male-only spaces. Discrimination based on sex is quite alright, as long as it is women doing it; saying that women need their own space because they are scared of men is quite alright, even when it paints all men in a negative light and all women in a positive light. And that is where it gets even worse than the fucking double-standards: a completely obvious, out-in-the-open hatred of, and shaming of, men for being men is quite alright. But don’t you dare say that men need a space where there are only men – because that is hating women, even when women are not mentioned.
Men just wanting to hang around other men without having to be shamed, hated and vilified for being men is deemed as discriminatory towards women. Because, for some strange and mystical reason understood only by the clinically insane holders of the esoteric and occult wisdom of feminism, everything has to be about women.
Even when it is about men and not women.
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– Moiret Allegiere, 15.05.2019
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