Misandry has a red squiggly line under it, while misanthrope is just fine, and misogyny fixed up real nice. Should I jump on the bandwagons because it will be easier to fit in? Should I tuck my redneck junk up in my stomach with duct tape and pretend to be more feminine than I am?
I’ve seen the cohesion of an effective movement disintegrate and fail from a lack of consistent focus. I am not a woman and never will be, but my emotional IQ tells me to hang out with a different cultural group: One that still embraces their nature from thousands of years ago.
Growing up in a culture that hates what I am, isn’t particularly fun. It get’s worse for me when I see that if I was a black woman, I’d still be an artist, a gypsy, and a radical.
Are these the grassroots organizers we should follow into social change, or are they just misanthropes disguised as misanderers? If you hate all people, and especially those like me, what makes you think I will die for you on some picket line?
Should I do as you are, and go work in the deep south for some right-wing group that hates on white women? Should your hate be allowed online? Does your posting that gathers in popularity with one gender bring you happiness, or just the satisfaction of a well slung whip? Is that how you see this? If it is you are sadly confused.
I’m not here to whip you. I love your soft skin, your blood that rises to the surface in bruises at my lack of grace. I love your emotional instability each month, it gives me a job to do, and I smell it on you as a job for me, before you do. I love your face. The way I feel when you smile. I adore your sensitivity. The way you cry so easily. I’m infatuated with your frustrations, the way they challenge my nature, finding in me a man to better.
When I howl at the moon and want to break something, I look at the worry on your face, and calmness reigns. I don’t want to hurt you. I want you to feel safe. I have a job based on you. It came from my ancestors, and it brings me happiness. I’m hungry. Does that make you want to feed me? Why not? I love pie and especially your pie, so stuff it in my face and I’ll choke on your moans.
We all die. We shit. We dance. We sing. I am a man. You have a vagina. I love it more because I don’t have one. Maybe you secretly love cock, and wish you had one inside you? Is the loneliness in your bed bringing out your frustrations in a man like way? Are you attacking the very thing you hope to embrace?
My eyes are blue, my skin is white, and I’m not asleep on this night. I’m looking at the morning darkness, and thinking of you. Are you dreaming of me? I won’t take you off my Facebook, because you haven’t cheated me of anything. I won’t fight your hate with more hate. I will avoid trolling your ugliness with toxic rants in your comments. I will avoid the temptation to make you look a fool. I won’t block your follow, or worse yet in a lack of grace, stop following you.
I want to know why you think the way you do. Am I supposed to take a course on women’s issues to understand, or do you think I already do?
Who are you talking to? What is the intention of your published scorn? Just because a pen is mightier than a sword, doesn’t mean your pen has the right color of ink in it. Do you think mine does now?
Seriously folks, this gender battle thing is boring. Have you heard enough to make you sick already? Does this post get under your skin? Do you care enough about this to want a solution? I’m broken hearted sure, but are you? Can you admit it? Would you rather die than go through it again?
Do your posts bring out the feelings you got here, in the hearts of the men who you care about? Do they want you more for what you have said? I don’t know if this is true for you, but it has been for me. Is this why your angry maybe? Did this article teach you how to be a better woman? Do you think it could, and do you think it should?
What makes you think I can’t speak for all men, teach you how they are wired, and at the same time give you a trick to fix the dynamics of your love with them? Do you think I should value your opinion about women, if you don’t think I understand having balls? I love smart women, but I value women with an emotional IQ even more. Is it an age thing?
Do Grandmothers have the wisdom to grasp this post as a faith? Do you? Did it inspire you to love other people? If not I failed, and feminism is still stomping around in the attic frustrated at the man world we live in. I’m writing this to keep loving people as a humanist, for the preservation of my happiness.
Misanthropy is an idea that has always made me want to curl up in a ball in the corner and cry myself into a spirit. On the start of this god’s day(Good Orderly Direction day), I’d like to leave you with the words of a better man, “Love people, hate what they do.”