The magical world of Texas fungi provides this charmingly innappropriate illustration: a stinkhorn mushroom. The spore mass contained in the black goo smells like, well, ass. Note that the stinkhorn’s order is Phallales. Mutinus elegans, Blanco County, TX, July 2007. Don’t eat this one, Alice!
Whenever I write about how much men hate you, somebody — usually a dude, but sometimes a Mrs Nigel — always chirps up, “That’s no way to win men over to your nutty Twistolution!”
And they are right. Dudes won’t support feminism unless there’s something in it for them. In my case, they seem anxious that I behave solicitously toward them, to reassure them that radical feminists don’t really want to substantively diminish their social status.
My advocacy for women’s entitlement to domination-free lives may sometimes look good on paper to liberal ‘feminist’ dudes, but they loudly demur when it comes time for them to acknowledge that they oppress women whether they like it or not, by virtue of their participation — whether it is a voluntary participation matters not a whit — in male dominant culture. When I explain why their position is untenable, that oppression is experienced by the oppressed as hate, it is interpreted as my crossing the boundaries of feminine propriety. This makes’em mad. And they get mean, e.g. “I don’t hate women, you stupid bitch!”
These glittering examples of Western manhood appear not to grasp the irony of responding with hate to a men-hate-you argument. The justification for their subsequent personal attacks (one fellow human recently expressed his happy anticipation of my rapidly impending obituary) seems to be that I am just not obsequious enough. Insufficient obsequiosity apparently invalidates any argument made by a feminist, however shimmeringly astute it may otherwise be. As a cause, the fight against the oppression of half the human population is only supportable if it is presented with a solicitous head-tilt, a pert giggle, and an invitation to fuck you in the ass.
But hate you men do, however often certain of them wish you dead from cancer for saying so without first offering to bend over.
Sometimes I am enjoined to use a less emotionally-charged word than hate, or to recompose the statement to read “some men hate you”. Evidently the truth is too painful for these delicate sensitivos. They should, in that case, avoid at all costs this article. This riveting piece — on, coincidentally, bending over — written from the default human point of view, summarizes the metrosexual mania for anal het sex, wink-wink. As evidence in support of the men-hate-you argument, this article couldn’t be any more repellently potent; it is not the isolated ramblings of some midnight teen tubesock blogger, but in fact appears in the mainstream men’s magazine Details. You know, if I’d sat up all night with a tub of Cool Whip, a six-pack of Tab, and an 8-ball, I couldn’t have contrived a more definitive expression of our culture’s merry glorification of misogyny.
In this article you will find, replete with hilarious euphemisms*, men freely admitting that ‘demanding’ anal sex is not only considered perfectly OK, but is in fact a contumely devoutly to be wish’d. And ‘contumely’ is the operative word: it is agreed that conquest and subsequent humiliation is actually the object of the exercise. To wit:
“Once a guy has anal sex, he’s put on a pedestal by his peers,” [Philip] says. He claims he hasn’t had much trouble getting women to agree to it. “I only had to persuade two girls. [I asked] ‘Can I put it in your butt?’ At first they were like, ‘No, it will hurt.’ Then time after time of having sex with them they finally said okay. It hurt them the first time, but after that they always said they enjoyed itâ€”if not a little, then a lot.”
“For most of my friends, it’s sort of a domination thing,” says John (not his real name), 30, a writer in New York. “[It’s] basically getting someone in a position where they’re most vulnerable. My friends enjoy that and they tell their friends they did it. But it’s not like girls are ready for itâ€”it’s something they do when they’re really drunk.”
It’s an escalation of porn culture. Since the excessively vaunted sexual revolution decreed that all women henceforth would be empowerfulized by their service to male sexuality — getting jizz in your wig is a big compliment! — too many women have been giving up the vagina too easily, and even blow jobs are hackneyed now that housewives are writing mundane marriage manuals on the subject. “Regular” het sex just isn’t brutal or insulting enough anymore. There’s no sport in it, no swaggering triumph, nothing to give men “a good story to tell over beers.” Anal sex may be “the new deal-breaker,” but it’s only a matter of time until blush is off that rose, too. If a ‘sex’ act fails to egregiously humiliate or even harm a woman, men will keep pushing the limits until they find one that does. How long until we’re reading this in mainstream magazines?
“I only had to persuade two girls. [I asked] ‘Can I shit in your mouth and mutilate you with razor blades?’ At first they were like, ‘No, it will hurt.’ It hurt them the first time, but after that they always said they enjoyed itâ€”if not a little, then a lot.”
Now, before you anal apologists flood my inbox with your porntastic personal anecdotes, hear this: in a patriarchy, wherein one class oppresses another for its own profit, there can be no ‘consent’ between oppressor and oppressed.
*Rearguard action, take the service elevator, and grant a backstage pass are just a few of edgy-winky author Peter Rubin’s jollifications of women’s sexual slavery.
[Thanks to Stacy, who read about this at Feministing]