Feminism is open to question. Never forget that.
Let’s get one thing straight: Feminism is not mandatory. You have zero obligation to think like a feminist, talk like a feminist, act like a feminist, live like a feminist, or support feminism in any way.
Feminism is but one of many ideological systems operating on planet Earth. It was concocted by human agency and its license to exist may be revoked by human agency at any time. Feminism is not a privileged snowflake. It carries no special mandate or divine right. There is nothing “woo-woo” about feminism, and no particular reverence is owed to it.
We should add that feminism is not a race — or more to the point, not a biological birth group. That’s right: nobody is born a feminist. Feminism is an elective state of being; you must choose it. That means you are free to reject it, or free to kick it out of your brain again if you made a prior choice to accept it.
Not only are feminists not a race, they are not an ethnic group. They seem to think they are, but that is because they are mimicking the behavior of groups who claim protected status against so-called “hate speech”. The feminists want to get some of that action too, if possible. If you say stiff things about feminism, they would like very much to swing the apparatus of law against you. (Name-calling and character assassination are not enough, it seems. They want to use the official power of state violence, under color of legality.)
Above all, feminism is not a sex. There is a male sex and a female sex, but there is no feminist sex. I repeat: there is no feminist sex. That may be perfectly self-evident to some of us, but a lot of people seem absolutely oblivious to this bedrock truth.
The trouble is, that feminism is politically and institutionally hegemonic. It is a ruling force in human affairs, and that is simply an objective fact of life. This happened because certain humans worked hard to make it happen, while certain others stood by and lifted no finger to stop them. In consequence, feminism got deeply entrenched.
The crux of the difficulty is that feminism holds the power of a fetish, or sacred idol, in the public square. Some have even called feminism an unofficial state religion. Many people hate this so-called sacred object, and wish to break its power, yet they fear to speak a word against it because they dread the social consequences that might follow. Furthermore, they aren’t sure where to get started because, frankly, the terms of the problem are not entirely clear to them.
If we wish to overthrow the power of the feminist idol and release the stranglehold which it exercises upon the public mind, we must visibly and dramatically challenge it, until people feel emboldened to join in the fun. Imagine, if you will, a dauntless iconclast who walks up to that idol with a sledgehammer, in full view of the world, and shatters the head into rubble with a defiant flourish and a harsh laugh.
Clearly this would send a message. It would spread some shock waves, wouldn’t it? It would trigger a gasp of collective dismay, am I right?
Many, standing in the public square, would be emboldened to join in the fun. They would look each other in the eye and catch the glint of revolution. It would be instantly clear to them that they were not alone, that they had nothing to fear but fear itself.
The core principle is this: that when you publicly defy or desecrate a sacred object, you break the spell. You dismantle the mojo. You turn that sacred thing into a common thing once more, prone to the same treatment as any other common thing — the callous handling, the common touch, and so on.
I shall await somebody bold enough to swing a very public metaphorical hammer against the feminist idol. I expect that person will be a celebrity of some kind, ideally a woman, who stands up and thunders: “I’ve had enough and I will take no more! To HELL with feminism, and damn the torpedoes! Come and get me, feminists!”
Naturally, it helps to be a celebrity rather than an obscure nobody. An obscure nobody who wants to make his message heard, must capture the limelight by a signal-boosting stratagem or “setup” — in common vernacular, a publicity stunt. But a celebrity can access the limelight any time. When a celebrity talks, the world listens, and the message travels.
So if you’re a celebrity, and if you want to become a bigger celebrity, give us a hand with this. Okay? Or if you know a celebrity, bring this talk to their attention and maybe it will inspire them to do something along the lines we are suggesting.
There are, of course, less flamboyant but equally valuable ways to attack the feminist idol and compromise its power. These methods are already being carried out by many people in many places — the war of attrition, the death by a thousand cuts, the innumerable chisel strokes. It’s all good, it’s all taking a toll, and it’s all preparing the ground for those more dramatic non-feminist breakouts which will occur in the fullness of time.
So what is the bottomline here? What is the takeaway point? It is, that the feminist problem must be challenged. Called out. Stood up to. Stared down. Made accessible to the forces that would correct it.
You can do this in many ways, but by far the most effective is to say, simply and unequivocally, “I am not a feminist, and there is nothing you can do about that.”
This brings the feminist dialectic to a standstill, because it introduces the element of alien will into feminism’s self-contained moral universe. Feminism has been given something indigestible and irreducible to its purposes, which it ultimately cannot ignore. That something is called “non-feminist alterity”. The implications are existential. Metaphysical, Primordial. Heavy.
Above all idol-breaking.
In a word: iconoclastic.
“I am not a feminist, and there is nothing you can do about that.”
This deceptively simple statement lies at the heart of the methodology we are preaching. The rest is details, and among these is the fact that feminism is on trial because all feminist claims and theories are open to question.
From the ground up, every imaginable thing about feminism is subject to a universal critique and an intellectual audit. You might say that we are calling feminism into the office for a little talk.
In closing, I repeat my call to anti-feminist celebrities: step out of the closet and swing a hammer at the feminist idol! Be bold. Be brave. Be defiant. Be a cheeky bastard and stand your ground. You have supporters everywhere.
If you are not a celebrity, do what you can to see that celebrities read this. Thank you.