women

Holy Smokes

It’s been almost a year since I last wrote…I left because I was fed up with “politics”. I felt that Reason had long since become disgusted and wandered away. I am not “political” in the sense that I identify with a party or specific ideology. I also believe that the topics that I’ve written about, meaning, Religious Freedom, the fact that Women have worth and should never be physically or emotionally abused and, LBGT Rights transcend politics…

I left because I was fed up with “politics”. I felt that Reason had long since become disgusted and wandered away. I am not “political” in the sense that I identify with a party or specific ideology. I also believe that the topics that I’ve written about, meaning, Religious Freedom, the fact that Women have worth and should never be physically or emotionally abused and, LBGT Rights transcend politics…

I also left because I was at a point where I felt like I had said all I could say and was reaching burnout. In addition, my own tiny family, meaning, my wife, needed every bit of my emotional energy…

I am writing this one because I want to reaffirm and restate what I always believed.

  • What your beliefs do not make you good or bad. There are bad Christians, good Pagans and, indifferent Atheists. The “content of your character” comes from within and not a system of belief.
  • Women have worth. Period. They are not chattel. They are not objects. They are not punching bags or targets for torment. They are our mothers, sisters, daughters, coworkers, fellow humans, wives, partners, and any other phrase or word you choose to describe them. They are the equals of men. They are the ONLY gender capable of giving birth to humans. We owe them our lives and they deserve to be treated with the respect that has well earned.
  • Your sexuality is your own. Yeah, I think the LBGT Community has gotten a rough deal from the majority of my Cis-het Christian Community but, the fact that you are ANY of the previous doesn’t make you “special”, it makes you human. There are over 7 billion people on the Earth. All of them have some form of sexuality … including a desire to have none. All it boils down to, in the end, is that you don’t deserve to be persecuted for who you f**k. That’s it.

I started to write this as a response to the Fear that seems to pervade today’s society. Thing is people have been saying for thousands of years “the end is near” and it hasn’t happened yet. The fears of today are nothing but the flavor of the month. We have survived both wise men and fools in high office. We have survived War and Famine. We have made it through everything Nature can throw at us. The troubles of today pale in comprison to those of the past. The only difference it that today’s are happening now…

Perhaps it’s merely my age that gives me some tiny bit, I hope, of wisdom and perspective but, I am less concerned about how the World treats me and more concerned about how I treat y’all. It isn’t the Alfred E. Neuman, “what, me worry?” as much as it is that I really don’t want to waste the energy concerning myself with things I can not change and may not even happen…

…I don’t really know if this post means I’m back or is just to say that my views haven’t changed…

When Heroes Become Villains

 

There’s a place some go. A place I’ve gone, and it’s a place of nightmares. Where you can’t trust the person to wake you up. What if the person who wakes you up from the dreams of monsters, turns out to be the monster themself?

You’ve seen the picture of innocence. Of child-like faith. Not just in God, or blue skies, but in family. Your grandfather is this smelly old guy who teaches you how to play an instrument and makes funny jokes. Your uncle is the greatest person in the world. Your other grandpa comes around and fixes what needs fixed. He throws you in the air and plays games. They are heroes. Superheroes who do no wrong.

And then one person changes that. Family has no meaning. The veil of innocence is gone and you see threats. If this one person, who swore to protect me, is capable of this, then what of them? And you start to see secrets. And secrets are scary. Because secrets live in the dark, and there are always more where those came from.

People get angry when you’re too frightened to be alone with them. As much as you’d love to say you trust them, you can’t, because you know they are just as capable of untold horrors. Family means nothing. “Love” loses it’s touch.

I don’t know if it’s something that can be changed. I’m certain I’m missing out on knowing some great people.  I wish I could trust, especially in family, and trust in “love.”

What I want in life is to fix the world, even if I can’t fix me. I want to see a few people hurt less because of something I know. Because of something I can say, or because of something I can do.

I don’t pray well. Its a thing forgotten often until I break and start shouting blubbering curses to the man upstairs. But when I do, I pray my daughter keeps her heroes. I pray this for every child. I pray this for the child I was.

I hope at some point I can see past the villains, and start seeing the heroes in those I should. Hope that I will see beyond possibilities and potential for hurt. Hope I can restore to some degree that faith in humanity, and maybe restore it in someone else too.

*****

If you’ve read my posts over the past month or two, you might have gathered that there’s a specific person in my mind when I write. If you read M’Lady and Her Jester you will know the background. This post is where she is in her words. She asked me to post this. I left it unedited. She said I could comment…

M’Lady,
Perhaps you will never quite learn to trust. *sigh* The cynical old b****rd in me says trusting “humanity” is for suckers. Humanity will always let you down but, there are rare humans that you can trust…and they will sometimes let you down, too. You are trying, though. You are searching for a way to find what was stolen from you. You are willing to face your fears. You are willing to accept that not every person is a person that hurt you. That you are willing, in spite of your fears and your past, gives me hope that you will succeed. It will take time. It will be hard.
M’Lady, you reached out to me. You took my trust and, however far from you, my love. You tried to run from those and, when it came to accept or reject, choose to accept, no matter how those scared you. I know you are not confident that you will ever be “healed” but, for now, on this part of our path, trust my confidence in you. There will be days, in some distant future, where fear will come back but, by then, you will know it for what it is and it won’t harm you.

I know it isn’t much but, here’s the hand of a friend to walk your path with you. *offers hand*

With love,
M’Lady’s Jester

You Are a Rapist

No matter if she’s young or old, drunk or sober, promiscuous or virgin, same race or different, will remember or not, forced or emotionally coerced, gay, straight, or bi, none of them matter. Once you cross the line the only thing that matters is you raped her…and you became a rapist.

She may heal or she may carry the emotional and physical scars to her grave…and you will still be a rapist.

No matter if you repent and she forgives you, until your grave and then to eternity, you will be a rapist.

She will never be worth less because of what you have done to her…and you will never be worth more than a rapist.

Your action doesn’t have to define her life but, it defines yours. From that point forward, even if you and she are the only ones that know, no matter what achievements or accolades you gain, you will have committed rape and be a rapist.

If your life is spotless from that point forward, it doesn’t change who you are. You are a person that raped someone, a rapist. Period.

There are actions in people’s pasts they can rise above. It is possible to cease being an addict. It is impossible to be a former rapist. That scar on your soul, that word that defines what you did, can not be removed.

You willingly crossed the line. You made the choice to action. There is no excuse. There is no, “I didn’t mean to.” You did not “accidentally” become a rapist. You did it on purpose. You had a choice, to rape or not to…and you decided you WANTED to be a rapist. You wanted the label and the stain. Now, you get to live with that. Your parents and family get to. Your friends now associate with a rapist. Your childhood dreams just became meaningless because you are a rapist.

My opinion may not matter to a rapist. I don’t care. There is nothing lower than you. There is no human below you because, to me, you are sub-human. Contempt is a weak word for what should be shown to you. I hope you enjoy it because that is the best you deserve.

In the end, she will rise above it and you…you are a rapist.

An Explanation of this Blog’s Direction

In the past two years and change, this blog has been predominantly about LBGT Rights and religious acceptance of Paganism by the Christian community.

Lately, it has been for and to a pair of friends that are rape survivors. That is the direction it will continue to take. There MAY be brief forays into my personal past or some other topic but, those will be directly within the context of being a survivor of something, violence, rape, or addiction.

If you followed under any other pretense or looking for something else, please do not feel deceived.

I have one sole perspective. Rape, no matter if it is forcible or by emotional manipulation, is NEVER excusable. There is no circumstance that makes it an accident. The phrases “boys will be boys” or “just a little action” do not make it right. Being drunk does not allow it. If that perspective offends you, feel free to leave. If you think “he has a sickness” and being a rapist is some kind of “illness” that can be lessened by that perspective, perhaps the one that is delusional is you.

To explain from my perspective, I DO NOT WANT to write these. It hurts. It causes nightmares and physical pain but, that is nothing compared to what happened to my loved ones. My “discomfort” is minor in light of having to live with what they do. The fact that they willingly expose what happened to them and, reading this blog and answering my questions, are forced to relive those actions makes them far more important than what lack of “fun” this may be.

If they want me to write, yes, I asked directly last night and gave them an out, their answer was to continue despite the pain of the telling and reading, means, to me, they have more import than a mere typist. Their courage makes it impossible for me to not be their voice. Their thoughts and hearts have earned my voice. That they know the dark spots in my soul and do not reject me makes them more precious than any sense of self I may have.

There will be more posts directly on track. There will be stories of what they felt and how they survive. There will be discussion of why rape is not reported. It may not always be from their perspective but, they will always be at the front of my head and heart as I write. They are not perfect women. I am not a perfect man. That is the Human Condition. They are not always brave, they fear and panic, yet, they face every day knowing that. Those are parts of them that I admire, facing life with those fears.

Lastly, if you expect a “blame the victim” thought from this blog, you will be disappointed. If you expect any mitigation of what was done by the aggressor, this is not where it will be found. If you expect any view of them other than “they may have been harmed but, they are not damaged”, it will not be here. This perspective is that her body is hers. If she walks naked and drunk down the street, give her your coat to keep her warm and call a cab…unless she wants to be walking naked and drunk… not that she is inviting you to fuck her.

If you expected sunshine and light, or cupcakes and cookies, this is not the place. Rape and violence, as well as survivor guilt, hurt, distrust, and the objectification of women, will never be “light”.

I Don’t Care

I have a thought wandering around. I hope it makes sense. Follow along and see if you can read what I really mean…

“I don’t care” sounds harsh, and it can be. It can mean apathy or disdain. It can mean a lack of concern for another human…

“I don’t care” can also be the kindest words you can ever say to another person…

I don’t care…what you did in the past.

I don’t care…who you were.

I don’t care…that you made mistakes.

I don’t care…what you see…

I care that you survived. I care that you are someone else. I care that you grew. I care that you exist in the World. I care, and I am glad, you invited me in so I can say, “I don’t care what you, or anyone else, thinks. To me, you are valuable and loved”

Perhaps, we need more “I don’t care…”

Wandering Around in My Head, or Coffee and Gratitude

*grins*

Have I mentioned that the inside of my mind is an odd place? Yeah, I suspect more than twice…

I write about people. Sometimes FOR them. Sometimes TO them but, always about them…well, not really to me…unless you count talking to myself typing as “to” me. *grins* *sigh* In the old days, before the internet, I used to write this stuff out on paper…then throw it away. Long conversations with “someone” of just myself…that I wanted people to read but, never shared. Now I just put in on WordPress. *grins again*…*sighs again*

The thing is, they all have something in common…well more than one, gender comes to mind as a second but, that doesn’t matter…crap, more than one that does matter but, that’s for further down the page…they challenge my perceptions. They make me push the limits of what I think. Not all in the same ways or directions but, all push the edges farther from my nice comfortable middle.

It’s funny, in a way, the people that push me away from that are the ones I want closest, to keep a spot for, if they want it or need it, deep inside, away from the edges. Someplace safe…just while they have made that bigger by making the boundaries expand. I suppose that’s why there’s room for them to begin with? When the borders expand, their center becomes larger…and MINE does, too.

They kick my complacency in the head. They give me two choices, accept them the way they are, unapologetically the way they are, or don’t but, if it’s “don’t” then don’t waste any time sticking around. I stayed.

Maybe that makes me a glutton for punishment…or it makes me smart…

I love them for that.

See, the other thing they have in common is that I love them exactly for themselves. Each unique one of them.

There are 7 odd billion people on the planet. There are 4 that I’m talking to…

Ladies,
You are wild and wonderful, wise and brilliant. You, each one of you, are unique…and precious. You have caused growing pains and with them, growth, my growth. You have made the space for yourselves bigger and by doing that, made me bigger. I didn’t know I needed you when you wandered in but, can not imagine being me without you. Thank you for letting me into your worlds. Thank you for being in mine. I may not spend every second of the day thinking about you but, every day I spend some seconds. You make me think “it’s good to be me”. I hope, that in some way, I’ve been able to give you back the tiniest fraction of what I’ve gained. You…and my wife…are what make my life worth living.
Love,
Miller

*****

Cheap, free, advice, you don’t have to let everyone in but, someone. Trust an old grouch with “issues”. People are the only gift that’s of any importance. Everything is just something you buy.

 

Feeding the Demons

Dear Trinity,

I have some bad news. The demons don’t ever go away. Just when you think you have them beat, they remind you that they never left, just went underground. They let you become complacent while they were retrenching for a counter strike…

It doesn’t seem fair to me, at least I earned my demons. I invited them in, gave them a snack, and let them call my head their home. You didn’t. Yours were uninvited guests. I think that’s why I’m letting mine out, maybe if I give mine some space outside, there’s some room for you to kick some of yours out and a place for them to go. You see, I do have a few more years practice dealing with them. I won’t use the word “gladly” but, “willingly” seems to fit…

First some bad news. You will be sitting in a room full of people and feel alone. There will be times that, for no reason you can identify, you will panic. There will be days that nothing seems to make things any better and you just don’t like being you very much. What a kick in the head way to start, hunh? I have those days. You know that because I’ve come to you with them…

Here’s the deal. demons don’t have to define you. The only people that know they’re there are the one you see in the mirror…and the people you share them with. Choose wisely who you do share them with. Find someone that is willing to love you. *I was looking a word from Greek, the word storge is the one I want. It means ” the love that friends feel for each other… Storge love is unconditional, accepts flaws or faults and ultimately drives you to forgive. It’s committed, sacrificial and makes you feel secure, comfortable and safe.* Let those people in and be loved for yourself. Demons hate that. They can not stand the light of the love that the people that surround you bring…

Remember, though, the demons have  big lies.

They will tell you that you’re supposed to be happy all the time and when you’re not, they’ll be waiting. They’ll tell you it’s your fault that you aren’t. That’s a lie because not every day is happy. Stuff happens. Life happens…

They will tell you that you aren’t worthy. Just take my word for it, you are.

They will tell you that love is false and trust is a fools game. In time, you will learn both. You won’t trust everyone all the time and that’s fine. Some don’t deserve it. Love, on the other hand, the deep abiding love that comes with time and shared life, is ALWAYS worth the risk. I don’t mean that foolish “crush” that school girls have on movie stars but, the kind that looks at you and see’s “forever”. In those eyes, when you are old and gray, you will be the most beautiful woman on the planet. That day will come, when you find that…and the third happiest person for you will be me, because you and they will be the first two.

In time, the demons will start to fade. They won’t ever go away but, they will be less powerful…if you don’t feed them. You WILL  learn to keep them on their leash and, when they slip off, you will be able to put them back…and if you can’t, find me. I’ll be around to listen.

You got this. I’m neither your only friend, nor your best but, I believe in you. You are stronger than the demons. I think you will be stronger than I am…I just have more practice. They live in the past and yesterday is well and truly gone. You got this.

Love,

Miller

P.S. You know all of this. I just said it to remind you when you forget *grins*

Redefining a Person

I wrote The Worth of a Soul a couple of days ago. This is more of her story…

I spent some more hours talking to her yesterday. Now I know more than I expected to know…I really don’t have a clue where to start writing this…I’ll just try writing my reactions to what we talked about and see what happens…

I’ve never met someone that was so open about their sexuality to me, not a woman. Guys brag, she was just blunt and matter of fact. I know details that I think she shared for one of two reasons, either as a test to see if I’d judge and be pushed away or because she is just not willing to lie to me. Probably a bit of both.

There’s a part of me that says, “fail the test and run away fast as you can”.  She is a “complicated”, for lack of a better term, person. There’s a different part that says, “you promised that you would not.”

Keeping my word will win…not because it’s merely keeping my word, though. Let me try to express what I see. *editorial, I am going to let her read this before posting so she may correct any misconceptions I have*

I see, and said publicly, that there is steel in this Lady. Yeah, like a blade still on the forge or hot from the furnace, it needs some work but, the metal is good…

I see someone that has been betrayed by people she should have been able to trust and that taught her to test EVERYONE so, when she does, she’s just following what makes her safe…when she tested me, this time, there probably will be others, it was with more answers than I implied in the questions…

I also see someone trying to like themselves, really trying, and getting better at it…why would I do something as cynical as to not want to see it through because she’s “complicated” and it would be easier not to deal with her baggage?

*****

Realistically, let’s look at this from the other perspective, her’s…

Why put up with me? I mean, what does she stand to gain?

Every time she trusts someone, they screw up and she takes the fall. People have denigrated her for enjoying being her. They shame her for something THEY encouraged. They ask questions and when she answers them truthfully, they tell her she is wrong. How does she know I won’t do that? My generation has caused the grief and baggage she deals with, so why would she expect any more from me?

All she has to go on is that I haven’t let her down…so far… I have not given away her secrets…yet…I haven’t judged her…yet…I haven’t told her she’s worthless…yet but, what reassurance does she have. The only other things she has to go on are one cryptic and disguised reference in a blog post last August and the one on the 12th of this month. Those and my, unproven, promise that I won’t intentionally cause harm or betrayal. That is not a huge sample size. *editorial, I suppose she could ask Aj and Z, see previous posts about those two, if I’m worth trust but, why believe them? She doesn’t know them*

*sigh*

*****

If she’ll have me as a friend, I’ll let her. She IS a survivor. Sure, she comes with a ton of baggage and a self-image that needs some work, to put it mildly, but, no matter what she thinks of herself, I see something different… I think she wants to see herself as ruthless and cold but, even when someone deserved it, she expressed regret. She thinks she uses people, age tells me that the majority of people that think they are getting something for nothing allow themselves to be used.

Interestingly enough, and I think she WILL disagree with this one, I see innocence and naivety. Yeah, she tests but, she hopes, too.

I see a person that used the word “slut” because that’s the word she was told and shamed into  using but, the way society uses that word doesn’t apply. She enjoys sex. So fucking what? Sex is fun. She’s working with me to find a better description *grins* The only thing we’ve been able to come up with starts with “cute” and ends with “plays barefoot in the rain” and has a bunch of words in the middle… *editorial, if anyone that reads this has a better word, please let us know*

She’ a person I’m willing to trust. I can type events from my life here but, you don’t get a chance to come far enough inside to cause grief. I’m willing to give her that chance, that means she’s the fifth living person that has that ability…if she’s willing to accept it…yeah, that’s my “test”, her word, of her…

In my mind she is a fellow “survivor”. We survived different things and different monsters but, we both know what it’s like to crawl out of a pit you believed was too deep to get out of…

In her I imagine seeing  someone I want to watch grow up. *editorial, from an emotional perspective* I want to see how much she’s grown in ten years. There is coming a person that has greatness in them…

It isn’t fun being the blade on the anvil but, the great humans in the world have been that blade. Until steel is hammered and tempered it’s soft and useless. After that, the blade must be ground, polished, and honed to be worth something other than a pry bar. Finally, it must have had the flaws removed by the smith or it’s fragile and wants to shatter. When all the work is done, there is something unique and beautiful. Right now, the blade is on the anvil…In ten years, the smith will be finished. I want to be around for that…

If you might think there’s no steel in her soul, no greatness, ponder this, the last blog about her, the one ONLY about her, I was going to delete. I wrote it and decided that it might cause her emotional harm by saying that stuff publicly. She refused. She told me I had to publish it even to including the line, “And deep down, we had a masochist, a young, teenage slut, who wanted nothing more than to curl up in a hole and die, because she was dirty, scared, and shamed.” KNOWING that was the first thing you would read about her. Whatever her quirks, she’s no ones emotional masochist. Even a masochist wouldn’t allow that to be written. Only strength shares that with the world so that she might help them…

In the end, this, she survived. She will keep growing. She is learning that she isn’t what she thought she was. She’s far greater and is beginning to see it…

Like I have said through this, she’ll be able to edit but, I suspect not. I think the points of the whole thing are this, no one has to be trapped in the places they believe they are. If we give ourselves a chance to quit believing the lies, we can grow. She could. She did.

The Worth of a Soul

 

I was talking to someone and she said this, “And deep down, we had a masochist, a young, teenage slut, who wanted nothing more than to curl up in a hole and die, because she was dirty, scared, and shamed.”

Does something ever put you in a spot where you want to simultaneously hug and protect one person and beat the crap out of everyone else that surrounds them? This did…

Let’s take this from the top. Why would you want to harm someone you allegedly love? Meaning who taught her to be a masochist? Who convinced her that she was a “teenage slut” and forgot that we don’t have a problem with teenage “boys will be boys”?

When she wanted to “curl up in a hole and die”, who was there to hold her and tell her that she was more than a “slut”…and while I’m at it, why is it so wrong to enjoy sex?…

That’s the last part, “dirty, scared, and shamed”…

Why?

Dirty? Not this young Lady. Nope, that isn’t what I see. I see smart, hard working, ambitious, attractive.

Scared, yeah, because society says she should be…of what, though? Not that what I think should matter or that my opinion should make a difference in a far away life but, if she’s scared of what the people close to her think, it isn’t her that’s messed up, it’s them…

Shamed, who told her that? Who told her that the standard that made it ok for her partner made it wrong for her? What idiot hypocrite said that because she’s a girl she’s not supposed to enjoy sex and if she does, it’s wrong? What bunch of morons decided that she deserved shame?

I have to ask myself, if she was my daughter, how would I react?

She is young enough to be my daughter. I think my reaction, knowing it now, would be to tell her she’s beautiful. That what happened TO her was because people are stupidly judgmental. That what she sees and what I see are different. I did tell her that, and will again. I said this, “You are more than an object to be owned and discarded or manipulated.” I also told her that she has greater worth than just being “a good fuck.”

People don’t get to own people. We don’t have the tiniest right to create what she thought of herself.

When did we forget that? What mom tells her kid that she’s dirty forgetting that the same mom had to get laid to have the kid. What dad tells her that she has no worth when he must have thought her mom was worth getting naked with to create the kid? What part of “it takes two to tango” makes half of the people dancing worth less than the other and holds up one as being a “man’s man” and calls the other a “slut”?

Yeah, this pisses me off because now, someone that DOES NOT deserve it and has not earned it, has to learn that she wasn’t wrong. That there’s no harm in enjoying sex. That she has worth beyond just being used and manipulated.

Truthfully, I think she’ll get past the things that were inflicted on her. I think there’s strength and resilience in there. It won’t be over night but, I have faith in the young lady’s ability to listen to reason…

The problem is, some people aren’t her. Some don’t have the chance she had to escape. Some don’t have someone to tell them that the lies are just that, lies.

It is NEVER our right to take away someone’s humanity.

*****

I wrote the part up there before work and was going to end it there. I changed my mind because some things occured to me…

I wonder if some of the reason I am so angry is because I never had any children? Is it because I see someone that would make a fine daughter, one that I would be proud to call my own, treated like she was not worth anything?

Or is it because I see someone that, even given what she’s been through, that were I not happily married and 30 years younger, I would look at as a potential spouse? One that a husband would think “I’m not worth this woman…”

Or is it that I see a friend hurt and I can not do anything to prevent the damage that was done before we met?

Or a combination of all of the above?

*****

These things also crossed my mind while I was at work…

Why do we teach that they deserve to be worth only a spread set of legs and nothing more and then blame them for doing that? They deserve far better. They are far better. A woman is more than a body. If she does get laid then we don’t tell her it’s wrong unless we condemn her partner. We have to be honest with ourselves and ask why we taught them to be masochists? Is it to make ourselves better than them? Why do we have to make them feel bad for us to feel vindicated?

I rarely make promises. This is one of the rare times I will. I promise that no matter what you think of yourself, even when you are old and gray, in my minds eye, there will always be the perfection of that pic of a young mother I pointed out to you. That, in the mirror that is MY minds eye, you are perfect just the way you are. That there is nothing you have ever done that will ever make me think any less and it’s not possible to make me think any more because you need NO improvement. That’s my promise, that with me, just one stranger, you precious and worthy of love and respect.

Women…

Usually, I write right after I wake up. That’s when my brain remembers what it wants to say and it hasn’t gotten distracted by being engaged with thinking. Today isn’t usually…so, maybe this goes into the Great Draft Pile in the Sky…or I decide to eff it and post the damn thing…*editorial, it’s already going downhill because I’m very rarely profane here. “Not here” my favorite word starts with an eff…*

…I have never been a person that engaged in casual sex. It has, every time, been with a person that I thought I could see the potential for “forever” with. I have encouraged others to “get laid” but, just not me. *I don’t mean to get into my own sexuality other than that bit because it applies to the train of thought*

I wouldn’t cheat on my wife if it was offered. Couldn’t. Having said that, the people I seem to like and talk to most are women. Perhaps, because sex has never been casual, it’s because, unlike most cishet males, women have never been “sex objects” to me. Yes, I am able to, and do, see an attractive woman as an attractive woman but, not as an “it” for me to imagine “between the sheets”. Hope this is making sense.

I suppose the reason I like women as people to talk is because, it seems to me, that there is less pretense in their core thinking. The thought, as I’m pondering, is that like my favorite poet, Kipling, alluded to is that the cost of the continuation of the species to y’all leaves very little room for self-delusion. When the upside is surviving childbirth and the downside is fatal, the cost is far greater than what the male has invested in the process…

Anyway…

Yeah, the train of thought drifted away…

Oh yeah, I think that the reason men treat y’all, women, like objects is that we realize that we are scared and in awe of y’all. Truthfully, I’m not sure I could handle the physical and emotional investment that procreation, not sex, involves for y’all all. It’s easier to demean and diminish what we fear than it is to acknowledge it, the fear I mean…

Why do we, men, fear y’all? Is it that childbirth/pregnancy/motherhood scares us? Is it that we realize that, physically, we have done more wrongs to women than y’all have done to us? Is it, again to paraphrase Kipling, that we realize that y’all HAVE to be fearless and far more ruthless than we do? Is it that, at the bottom of things, we wish to possess that which we have no right to own and realizing our weakness, fear our own weakness?

Look y’all, I have male acquaintances and one guy I think of as a close friend but, when I meet someone and think “this person MIGHT be someone I would like to trust as a friend”, invariably she’s a woman. I expect to be lied to by a guy. I expect that they will be a braggart, shallow, and craven. I expect that they will be little substance and all surface. Most times I’m correct.Sure, women like to dress and maintain their appearance but, women dress for themselves, not for others. Men dress to brag. That, in of itself, speaks volumes…

This was such a well-formed thought when I was thinking it…

Perhaps just to end the thought…

I don’t know why there’s even a human race left. I don’t know why women have let us men survive. We haven’t earned it. Our treatment of the other 49.6% of the world has really proved that our only truly useful function is as sperm donors…guys, we need to get over ourselves…

*****

My attitude isn’t quite as harsh as this comes across. I do, however, believe that we, men, need to change our attitudes toward those that gave birth to us.

*****

One parting thought. This is what I’ve paraphrased throughout this…

Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936)

The Female of the Species

WHEN the Himalayan peasant meets the he-bear in his pride,
He shouts to scare the monster, who will often turn aside.
But the she-bear thus accosted rends the peasant tooth and nail.
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

When Nag the basking cobra hears the careless foot of man,
He will sometimes wriggle sideways and avoid it if he can.
But his mate makes no such motion where she camps beside the trail.
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

When the early Jesuit fathers preached to Hurons and Choctaws,
They prayed to be delivered from the vengeance of the squaws.
‘Twas the women, not the warriors, turned those stark enthusiasts pale.
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

Man’s timid heart is bursting with the things he must not say,
For the Woman that God gave him isn’t his to give away;
But when hunter meets with husbands, each confirms the other’s tale—
The female of the species is more deadly than the male.

Man, a bear in most relations—worm and savage otherwise,—
Man propounds negotiations, Man accepts the compromise.
Very rarely will he squarely push the logic of a fact
To its ultimate conclusion in unmitigated act.

Fear, or foolishness, impels him, ere he lay the wicked low,
To concede some form of trial even to his fiercest foe.
Mirth obscene diverts his anger—Doubt and Pity oft perplex
Him in dealing with an issue—to the scandal of The Sex!

But the Woman that God gave him, every fibre of her frame
Proves her launched for one sole issue, armed and engined for the same;
And to serve that single issue, lest the generations fail,
The female of the species must be deadlier than the male.

She who faces Death by torture for each life beneath her breast
May not deal in doubt or pity—must not swerve for fact or jest.
These be purely male diversions—not in these her honour dwells—
She the Other Law we live by, is that Law and nothing else.

She can bring no more to living than the powers that make her great
As the Mother of the Infant and the Mistress of the Mate.
And when Babe and Man are lacking and she strides unclaimed to claim
Her right as femme (and baron), her equipment is the same.

She is wedded to convictions—in default of grosser ties;
Her contentions are her children, Heaven help him who denies!—
He will meet no suave discussion, but the instant, white-hot, wild,
Wakened female of the species warring as for spouse and child.

Unprovoked and awful charges—even so the she-bear fights,
Speech that drips, corrodes, and poisons—even so the cobra bites,
Scientific vivisection of one nerve till it is raw
And the victim writhes in anguish—like the Jesuit with the squaw!

So it comes that Man, the coward, when he gathers to confer
With his fellow-braves in council, dare not leave a place for her
Where, at war with Life and Conscience, he uplifts his erring hands
To some God of Abstract Justice—which no woman understands.

And Man knows it! Knows, moreover, that the Woman that God gave him
Must command but may not govern—shall enthral but not enslave him.
And She knows, because She warns him, and Her instincts never fail,
That the Female of Her Species is more deadly than the Male.