Category Archives: Violence

If you Hit my Daughter to Show her you like her…

I will beat you to a bloody pulp to show you how much I love you for it. Deal?

Thought inspired by this:

I am sure every girl can recall, at least once as a child, coming home and telling their parents, uncle, aunt or grandparent about a boy who had pulled her hair, hit her, teased her, pushed her or committed some other playground crime.

‘I will bet money that most of those, if not all, will tell you that they were told “Oh, that just means he likes you”. I never really thought much about it before having a daughter of my own. I find it appalling that this line of bullshit is still being fed to young children.

‘Look, if you want to tell your child that being verbally and/or physically abused is an acceptable sign of affection, i urge you to rethink your parenting strategy.

‘If you try and feed MY daughter that crap, you better bring protective gear because I am going to shower you with the brand of “affection” you are endorsing.’

Read the rest by Queen of the Couch here.

Just to be clear, if you hit my son for the same reason, I’ll extend the deal to you, too.


Moving Through Male Violence

It’s really not that often I just post a link, mainly because it’s really not that often that something makes my heart sink slowly and swim in my stomach for a half hour or so. But this piece by Lidia Yuknavitch, is one such thing.

‘When my father raised his hand to me in our garage at eighteen, I said, “Do it.”

‘When the poet punched me in the nose in my pick-up truck at a stop light, I said, “Get the fuck out of my car or I will kill you.” And I meant it.

‘I’m telling you this because I know I’m not the only one who came of age like this. Up and through male violence. ‘I’m telling you because there are all the things that need to be done “out there” to stop it. But then there are also all the things that needed to be done in me. To stop it.

‘Listen, these are not the sad stories. Worse things happened to me. Those aren’t the sad stories either. These stories don’t carry the pathos to signify culturally in my culture. These stories I’m telling you are commonplace. That’s the point. They just happen and you live them and as you go you have to decide who you want to be.’

Read it. If you don’t marvel at the courage of the woman who can write this kind of truth, and want to invite her round for a cup of tea at the same time, I’ll be amazed.

Via Feministing.
Read it.


We Love Self-Defence!

I don’t advocate violence.  Really I don’t.

But I very much advocate self-defence.  I love self-defence!

And so much love goes to the Egyptian women featured here.

Vigilante gangs of ultra-conservative Salafi men have been harassing shop owners and female customers in rural towns around Egypt for “indecent behavior,” according to reports in the Egyptian news media.

‘But when they burst into a beauty salon in the Nile delta town of Benha this week and ordered the women inside to stop what they were doing or face physical punishment, the women struck back, whipping them with their own canes before kicking them out to the street in front of an astonished crowd of onlookers.’

What can I say?  Kick arse women like these make me feel happy.  Oh, and very cowardly.  But I’m a happy coward today.


Today Aims High

You will of course know this: today is the UN International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women.

I of course knew this, but what with one thing or another, it had slipped my mind.  ‘One thing or another’ for me, today, not including direct violence against me.  Is this privilege or just luck?

This, according to the UN, is the problem:

Violence against women and girls takes many forms and is widespread throughout the globe. It includes rape, domestic violence, harassment at work, abuse in school, female genital mutilation and sexual violence in armed conflicts. It is predominantly inflicted by men.’

What does that discription miss out?  I’ve been thinking of all the violence against women which is not spelt out there.  I’ve come up with a lot of stuff, but I’ll just leave you with one, in the words of somebody far more eloquent by me on the subject:

There is nothing safe for the women in porn, or for those who are pushed by their partners to emulate the painful and unsafe practices porn promotes. Porn treats women as disposable -literally, it fucks them over, and then moves onto ‘fresh pussy’.

Porn is also everywhere – it is now mainstream. How can we be so blind as to miss the glaring contradiction between promoting safe sex practices and glorifying porn? The two are totally incompatible.

The words ‘safe’ and ‘pornography’ don’t even belong in the same sentence. Porn damages – body, mind and spirit. Fact. I’m still working on unknotting the damage it’s done me.’ [by Angel K at Surviving]


Y’All Get that these People are Bat Shit Crazy, Right?

It’s not just me, right?

I’ve got no truck (well, not really), with people believing in ‘god’ per se; I see that there are many reasons why people choose to do so and, hey, who am I to judge?

Course, when those people ally that belief to a belief system which judges me – for swearing like a trooper, for having children out of wedlock, for eating chicken fried rice on a (gasp!) Friday or, say, oh, just being female – then I am exactly the person to judge.  ‘Belief system’ here obviously therefore covers every major, and every minor, religion on this planet.  And no, don’t argue with me because when even buddhism, the ‘belief system’ so beloved of left wing hippies it’s almost like it couldn’t exist if drugs didn’t, discriminates against women, you know you’re up shit creek and, regardless of the availability of propulsion systems, it frickin’ stinks.

I would say that this is what happens when religion turns bad, but this is just what happens when you have religion.  More specifically, it’s what happens when people decide they know what ‘god’ wants.

And God advocates child abuse.  No, not that kind of religious child abuse; cripes, even the Catholic priests didn’t try and pretend that ‘god’ told them to do it.

Bat. Shit. Crazy.


Women Run the World but Have Really Odd Priorities

Symbol of feminist oppression

Seriously.  If there’s one thing your average MRAer will tell you without even being asked – or even being on topic – it’s that women, by and large of the feminist persuasion, actually run the world.  Coo, I bet they felt good when Beyonce released that Run the World shit; she’d let the secret out!

That of course is why she had to fall ‘pregnant'; as punishment for showing those MRAs that they’d been right all along, the World Feminist Council forced her to retreat from global super-pop stardom into her kitchen making endless batches of blueberry muffins and practising saying ‘I find motherhood far more satisfying than global super-pop stardom and I never again will suggest erroneously that women run anything other than their mouths, gossipy things that we are’ with a modicum of conviction.  Any minute now, people.

OK, I’m joking.  There is no World Feminist Council except the one in my head (which I’m in charge of, by the way; ain’t no collectivist power shit in my WFC because I know best, hurumph!)

But the really odd thing is that whilst we run the world, instead of crowing about it (as MRAs will tell you we’re prone to doing) and using our power to bring in policies to, oh I don’t know, dismantle capitalism, fight global poverty, make abortion universally available, enforce equal pay legislation, force men to walk around for a day in those newly fashionable ‘stripper’ 7 inch platform heels and then see if it’s even possible to find them ‘sexy’, or, oh, you know, something remotely feminist or even just woman-ist, we instead choose to exercise our power covertly – going so far as to not only deny we have power but to set up a small contingent of women to whine about our lack of power (cunning, cunning!) – and in the frankly oddest of ways.

Yes, we could put an end to a culture of rape and domination, stop domestic violence in its tracks, or outlaw ‘Shipwrecked’, but instead we put…flashing lights on school buses in the States.  Oh, and paint them yellow.  Both of these things are how we turn school buses into symbols of feminist oppression.  Don’t look at me, I’m not the one making this shit up.  So with thanks to Manboobz for the biggest laugh I’ve had all day:

School Buses: A Symbol of Women Dominating Men and Boys

Now what I want to know – and I will be addressing the WFC with this later – is why?  What end of the feminist revolution is served by turning buses into symbols of gender oppression?  Answers on a postcard.


Links Count

Yes, they fucking do.  Despite having 37 (yes, 37) draft posts currently cluttering up my dashboard, precisely none (yes, none) take my fancy.  Not even remotely.

Happily – because it would just be too fricking depressing if I didn’t post on the first day after announcing I would post every day, so depressing I would have to grow another moustache out of my bum to even vaguely re-balance the universe – there are those things called ‘Links’ – ta-dah!

A review over at BitchBuzz of Miss Representation, a US film looking at media portrayals of females and how they basically lead to Boogie declining to be a neurosurgeon (‘you can’t be what you can’t see‘).  Or is that because I described to Boogie what a neurosurgeon actually does?  Potato, potahto.

[The film's] findings are depressing, showing that while women continue to be seriously under-represented in politics, business and journalism, they’re continuously judged on their looks, age and weight. Its aim is to get people thinking about just what is so wrong with all this.’

An ‘expose’ (now where is that e with an acute accent…no fucking idea) over at New Statesman of the abuse suffered by women daring (ooh, how very dare you!) to have opinions and express them on t’internet.  As so often with so many things you read in the ‘mainstream’ (but friendly) press, you read the article and think, fuck, this is really fucked up, fucking hell (you may not think in quite as many swearwords as me, but still), and then you read the comments…and you realise what’s really fucked up.

And, yes, I know this is a bit old (the basic idea has been around forever in feminist circles, though this may be it’s first time it’s been ‘formalised’ by a ‘formal’ organisation), but it still makes me laugh like a fucking drain (in an ironic, post-modern – or is that ‘pathetically grateful’ – way).  In fact, I like it so much, I’ll show it you here for the benefit of those too lazy to click the link:

Read that and you start to see things kind of from my point of view.  No, really; this is actually how I think.  That it’s people who rape people who need to address their behaviour.  Rather than, y’know, the people those people might rape.  I really am just coming at you from that far out of left field.  Yes, yes, I’m a lesbian communist with a neat sideline in child snatching.  Goes without saying, right?

And this from the always affecting Surviving Prostitution and Addiction, on why Pretty Woman was not a fucking documentary.

And that’s enough, for it is Friday night and my pizza has just arrived…


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