Sex and Attachment

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Does the image above catch your attention?

Of course it does, because male motivation is tied to sexual reproduction and men are motivated primarily by urges to have sex with females, right?

Wrong.

It’s more complex than that.

As far back as 1941 Scottish psychiatrist Ronald Fairbairn found that the desire for attachment in human beings, in terms of the overall psychobiological economy, is a more important necessity than the desire for sexual pleasure and reproduction.

You read it right: attachment is more important than sex.

This scientific finding, not controversial in the field of psychology, presents something of a heretical view to some in the Men’s Rights Movement (MRM) who, by contrast, seem to have come in recent years to believe that males are chasing sexual reproduction only — which, oddly enough, seems similar to the stereotype of the “all men want is sex” misandrist paradigm we’ve all come to find so annoying.

Fairbairn’s proposition is now many decades old, but his findings heralded a Copernican revolution within the world of scientific research that would culminate in today’s attachment sciences; it moved the discussion beyond the reductionist sexual theories of Darwin and Freud and into new areas–more complex, more subtle, more nuanced, and ultimately more human.

The question attachment scientists explored is: why do couples continue to stay with each other years after producing offspring, and indeed sometimes for decades after all sexual activity has ceased in relationships? The answer is because human beings are pair bonders who get more out of attachment than they do out of fucking.

Since Fairbairn, studies have confirmed that humans possess an array of distinct motivational systems each in communication with the surrounding environment. Of those systems two are singled out as particularly powerful in motivating humans to form relationships – the sexual urge (eros), and -separately- the urge to attach. Of these, attachment is quite simply the most important to the continued survival of the individual. This cannot be overstated: attachment is the more important to individual survival.

As studies reveal, an absence of close and consistent human attachment causes children to literally wither and die, refusing to thrive even when being provided with clothing, food and an adequate number of toys. Children need reliable and consistent relationships in order to thrive. Likewise adults literally sicken both physically and mentally, and often commit suicide, to escape feelings of isolation and loneliness, especially after a relationship separation.

A lack of sexual contact on the contrary is not as life threatening; you will never see someone die simply because they didn’t get to fuck with the opposite sex and reproduce. I would think that seals the case about what is really important to both men and women. Survival of the species depends on sex; survival of the individual depends on the vital bonds of attachment.

What does all this mean to men?

Well, it means that we need to evaluate separately our attachment needs and our sexual needs, and avoid the common mistake of conflating them; especially if that conflation sees us rejecting both when in fact it may be only one of these causing most of our relationship angst. It may turn out that attachment and sex both need to be rejected in our gynocentric zeitgeist because both are sources of entrapment, however that cannot be determined until we consider each factor separately and thoroughly.

In our psychobiological economy, various desires come into conflict with one another, each jostling for momentary supremacy where one imperative will usurp the claims of another. That game has reached a problematical impasse during the last 800 years because, during that (historically relatively short) time span, human culture has thrown the weight of its patronage into developing, intensifying and enforcing sexual gamesmanship to the degree that our sexual compulsions appear pumped up on steroids and taken to extremes never before seen in the human animal (myths about widespread Roman orgies notwithstanding).

If we lived back in Ancient Greece, Rome or anywhere else we would view sex as little more than a bodily function akin to eating, shitting and sleeping – a basic bodily function without the hype. After the Middle Ages however it developed into a commodity to pimp and trade, and the new cult of sexualized romance that arose resulted in a frustration of our basic need for attachment – a frustration aided and abetted by social institutions placing sexual manipulation at the centre of human interactions.

During these fairly recent centuries of increased hypergamy and sexual focus, our drive to pair-bond continues to shout its demands even while being neglected. Observe for example the not-infrequent feelings of disillusionment and loneliness of serial partner upgraders (hypergamy) or of promiscuous gamers, or consider a beautiful young woman living in her mansion with an aged but wealthy husband to whom she has little or no emotional attachment; even if she is getting sex on the side her loneliness can eat away at her sense of contentment. These examples reveal an urgency surrounding attachment when it is neglected for the sake of secondary sexual or power gains.

Like men, women desire secure attachment beyond whatever sexual advantages they can and do exploit. However the hypergamous compulsion tends to get in the way and frustrate their powerful need to pair-bond. From the Middle Ages all the way to today we read of men and women bitterly disillusioned by the interference of hypergamy in the desire to form stable pair-bonds. Read for instance the bitter, antifeminist complaints of 12th century Andreas Capellanus or those of 14th century Christine de Pizan, or the disillusionment and ultimate rejection of the benefits of hypergamy in later works like Madam Bovary. These authors knew full well that sexualized romantic love had upset the balance of attachment security for both men and women alike.

The question we must ask ourselves is this: can our human need for attachment be indulged without men and women succumbing to the destructive manipulations of the modern sex code? As we stand atop the mountain of bachelor freedoms, rightly rejecting gynocentric women and culture as bastions of exploitation, have we intellectually thrown out the attachment baby with the exploitation bathwater?

Sexual games need not get in the way of healthy attachment, so why should we live without relationships? Well no one ever said we had to, but in recent years I’ve sensed a trend both within and without the men’s activism community (which I’ve long been part of) that foregoing “relationships” is a necessary part of the deal.

This does not seem a prudent attitude to be cultivating, especially for young men who may now be reading advice about rejecting relations with women and making extreme decisions about their lives; refusing to marry, cohabit, or procreate does not require a cutting off from human society. Even if we don’t suicide from loneliness (as so many men do) we need to question if the absence of an intimate relationship in our lives can leave us limping, or somehow unfulfilled. Some will say no, and some of these naysayers may well be what are known as ‘avoidant attachers.’ Of those who would say yes, some might recommend we fill our intimacy void with friendships, which is I think a very good starting point. But this leads to a further question of whether there is an adequate formulation of friendship that can satisfy our needs in a modern context – a relationship that doesn’t rely on the usual corruption at the core of sexualized romantic love.

These questions lead to an exploration of adult human attachment, and modern studies on the subject are abundant from psychological, biological and behavioural points of view. For those interested in following this subject further the Wikipedia entry on Attachment in Adults would be a good place to start, and to branch out from there. Of particular interest is the existence of four basic attachment styles in human beings, indicating that there must also be four main ways of conducting relationships:

secure attachment (64% of the population)
anxious–preoccupied attachment (17% of the population)
fearful–avoidant attachment (12% of the population)
dismissive–avoidant attachment (7% of the population)



Only one of these styles (dismissive avoidant) involves a lack of desire for emotionally close relationships (relationships with minimal emotional intimacy may be tolerable to them), while the other three involve a desire to form emotionally intimate attachments. These are biologically-based traits appearing in each man before he considers rejecting intimacy with women, and they help to account for the behavioral and ideological variability we see among men – for the most part we are working creatively with what’s already in our make up rather than changing our core attachment style.

The four attachment styles and their implications for men deserve a follow up article. While some men’s rights advocates claim men do not need attachment at all, evidence is not in their favour. Thus, for most of us, constructing new ways to form secure relationships with our fellow humans in a rich and rewarding way is an important long-term question, even if we cannot pretend to have all the answers now; we start by knowing what we don’t want: relationships of enslavement and entrapment to the opposite sex (or anyone else for that matter) in an environment that makes healthy attachment difficult. But how do we forge a more positive model for human relationships and attachment for ourselves?

We started this essay with an important question: are sex and attachment two relatively different motivations? The answer is a resounding yes! Yes, despite all the pop culture bombardment of sex, sex, sex, the sexual shaming of men, and all the rest, the answer is yes: sex and attachment are not the same. People can live their lives avoiding sexual games but they will not end their lives happily unless they meet their attachment requirements. And while this journey will be different for each man, we must not flinch from seeing the problem for what it is: not “overcoming our urge to procreate,” but rather, how to be healthy human beings able to recognize and fulfill our natural need for human intimacy.

Sources

– Frederico Pereira, David E. Scharff, M. D. Fairbairn and Relational Theory (2002)
– Fairbairn, W.R.D., ‘Psychoanalytic Studies of the Personality’. (2013)
– Shaver, P.R., Handbook of attachment – Second Edition (2008)
– Shaver, P.R., Attachment in Adulthood: Structure, Dynamics and Change (2010)

Feature image by Thomas S.

My Generation Killed Rock’N’Roll:

This is a guest post from Moiret Allegiere.  He has a great deal to say about our plight as men in today’s insane misandrist world. You can find his blog here.

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We are a generation lost, choking on our own fumes of self-righteous indignation egged on by dishonest academic coprophilia. Come past, come present, come future, we will all be forced to eat shit and then die, harnessed to our safety-bubbles and lost within the great wide world-void without a safety net. Cerebral coprophilia.

Where once we used to taste and thrive on danger – what could be considered dangerous – rebellion and wild vulgarity, rock’n’roll and free expression – we now thrive on telling others what they may or may not speak and how they should go about doing so. Or not doing so.

Where once we used to laugh and crack whiplash-jokes at just about anything, we are now so inoculated that our mediocre playtime schools tell us nothing of substance for fear of triggering the trigger-happy woke hipster squad armed with muscle-loss rifles. Pow pow pow.

We are the generation of South Park and gross-out humour. And we can’t stand anything offensive. It boggles the mind and shakes the spinal fluid out my nose and ears. If anything, we should be so used to wild kicks in all directions that nothing would phase us. But the loonies have taken over the asylum. They have overrun our institutions and turned them on their head very much over heels – wondrous institutions of higher indoctrination into the victim cult of burnt offerings – neck scarred by failed lynchings – free-form ideas replaced with cancerous tumours. We no longer seek to understand or heal through laughter and through humour. We seek to heal through trapping ourselves within a cage and throwing away the key. Demanding anything we don’t like be thrown out of society and beaten to a bloody pulp by those who are supposedly opposed to violence. Mad wild-beast-hysteria, mirroring those who protested rock’n’roll, who decided that Dungeons and Dragons was a pathway to satanism, who blamed Alice Cooper for murders and claimed Marilyn Manson as the reason for school-shootings and massacres.

Masculinity is taught in schools to be a dangerous ideology, through years of unchecked auto-cannibalism on behalf of western thought. Research gone the route of subjective opinion where objective fact is naught but triggers for the squad of woke dementia branded by their handlers and told that they must never have their feelings hurt. If they are of a non-masculine persuasion, that is.

For there are no checks in place, no balance to be had. Boys and men may still be subject to denigration and hatred, uncensored and shot out both barrels of rhetorical shotguns aimed flat-fisted and devoid of facts at the chests and beating hearts of young boys trapped in schools to be told that they are vicious visceral beasts of rape and annihilation. And girls are still sugar and spice and everything nice – en mass.

All boys and men should do is sit still, silent and complacent, as their inner world burns and wild teacher’s manifested telepathy reach into their minds to tell them not what they think but what the academic nincompoops of mass-indoctrinated hay-fever tell them that they think that they think. For boys are still snips and snails and puppy-dog tails. And there is something wrong with boys and with men that must be unlearned through rigorous academic shit-tests. And this is painted as being of great service to boys and men! Manufacturing confusion and inner turmoil, self-loathing and layers of shame in the souls of boys and men – attacking their core identity – is rendered as a service and not a full frontal assault on their very being. In a just universe, these people would be shunned and shamed for their blatant assault on a group of people for nothing but their innate characteristics. In a universe and a society that ran on reason, these peddlers of abhorrent hatred would be hated and curb-stomped and left in the wilderness.

My generation is doomed. Domesticated and complacent. Whipped into place by hatred and shame painted in the new glow of liberating equality; by gender-political con-artists espousing feminine virtue as the only virtue, demanding that they be the ones to decide what are the real problems facing men, never leaving men a space to decide for themselves. Or speak on behalf of themselves. Punctuated by the guttural roar of clenched teeth and fists flung violently towards the world of men. And never – never understanding that it is not in the best interest of men that men should not be allowed to speak for themselves as to what constitutes and makes a man a man, that it is not in the best interest of men that men should not be the ones to speak on what are the issues facing men.

A political movement that has picked its own enemy should not be the ones to speak on behalf of their enemy. This should be obvious. Yet, here we are, a society so firmly placed betwixt the unwashed butt-cheeks of feminist misandric ideology that all our noses and all our tongues are brown, and all we taste and smell is shit. So much so that we do not notice the taste and smell any more. We take it for granted. Part and parcel of the western utopian pipe-bomb-dream where sex and gender does not matter, except when it does matter. And when it does matter, it is when one is better than the other and one is worse than the other. Skewed heavily in favour of the fraud and sham of feminist poltergeist-philosophy, thriving on hatred and division when claiming to be nothing of the sort. Of course.

My generation were fed the notion of equal treatment through the myopic lenses of frazzled and bewildered feminism. We had feminism forced down our throats as the movement with a monopoly on equality; the movement of equality to end all other civil rights movements, past, present and future. So that no other voices and no other views were to be heard and were to be seen. Because there were no other movements of such fantastic vision, such fantastic truth and beauty. Opposition to feminism meant not only opposition to equality, but opposition to women. And opposition to women is worse than being opposed to equality. Which, I think, should be an eye-opener if ever there was one.

Any movement that does not tolerate dissent… that does not tolerate other movements… should be hastily ignored and thrown out the door flat on their anaemic arse. Any political movement so tyrannical and so domineering as to claim to hold the monopoly on this, that or the other should be hastily broken down and drowned in its own septic flesh. The obvious totalitarianism in this way of thinking is nothing that should be celebrated. Yet, it was and it is celebrated. It is taught and told and forced down our gullible throats as the only path towards equality – whatever that tenderly infected term “equality” means.

My generation had no personal choice in the matter. We were brow-beaten and whipped into compliance with feminist orthodoxy and dogmatic rule through pictures painted and presented us of poor oppressed women herded like sheep to the slaughter, opposed at all sides by the wickedness and cruelty of men. Leered at and raped at every turn of the cock, ticking timebombs as they were, throbbing and waiting for rape and pillage and plunder and the spoiling of virginal and sanctified womanhood.

All this to justify the building up of girls – the girl power rhetoric so hip and cool – at the expense of boys, whose shuddering and neglected shapes fell flat on their faces on the sidelines of education reform that taught us nothing but to feel ashamed and feel guilty for our sex; that taught us nothing but an inherent knowledge that we were bad. And all the while telling us, with serpent-tongues and crimson smiles, that it was not about hating men or boys.

Where once we dared to set course for uncharted waters… where we dared to face the world on our own terms, we have been rendered impotent and deemed incompetent. We have been thrown to the margins and forgotten; our pride and our masculinity swallowed by the serpent-shape of gender-politics claiming to speak on behalf of both genders, yet caring only for one, neglecting the other.

And the serpent gave birth to numerous offspring, clans upon clans of followers of the snake-cult, all clinically brain-dead and washed ashore on the rhetoric of shame-hate-rage-ruin-ridicule, hiding and cowering in fear if anyone should propose something outside their ideological comfort zone. Claiming offence if truths are presented, and then demanding protection from facts and from truths uncomfortable to their preconceived notions of supposed equal treatment, meaning, of course, “superiority for me, inferiority for thee”. An arrogant tribe of spoilt and rotten eggs, all claiming tolerance and lack of hatred, all claiming open-mindedness and truth and reason, whilst showing lack of tolerance, proving their unflinching and unbridled hatred at any turn, keeping their minds closed to anything outside their realm of proclaimed knowledge and disavowing facts and truth and reason countering their dogmatic, borderline religious, flat-earth-like convictions.

And claiming all things to be offensive, in order to shut down any opposition. This and that and all the other stuff is offensive. As if that is enough of an argument, as if merely the pregnant tunes of offence taken is a counter-argument. A glaringly obvious tactic of manipulation in place of arguments. Which somehow fucking bloody god-damned works within and without powerful institutions.

My generation killed Rock’n’roll.

God have mercy on our souls.

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This is a guest post from Moiret Allegiere.  He has a great deal to say about our plight as men in today’s insane misandrist world. You can find his blog here.

EMOTIONAL COPING MECHANISMS AND THE SPARK OF REBELLION:

This is a guest post from Moiret Allegiere.  He has a great deal to say about our plight as men in today’s insane misandrist world. You can find his blog here.

Way back in the ticky-tacky days of late January or early February of 2019, something happened of a severely personal nature which caused a severe decline in my health and happiness – a rather significant double-barrelled shotgun shock to the solar plexus of my misfiring central nervous system, if you will allow me my poetic flights of fancy. Now, the nature of this happening and the circumstances surrounding it is something I aim to keep private and personal. Suffice it to say that it was directly related to my writings.

What I am interested in, is not so much exploring and explaining the severe emotional and physiological distress I found myself in as a result of this happening, but the coping tactics I employed in dealing with it. Of course, I will be explaining the pain and distress. But not in too much detail.

See, it has bothered me for quite some time this insistence that boys and men don’t deal with their emotions, or that when they do, they deal with their emotions in an inappropriate manner, whatever the hell that means. That we suppress our emotions and pretend we don’t have any. I find this to be both insulting and belittling, and more like than not, I can find several other words to use as proper descriptors for this nonsensical idea, each of these hypothetical words more inflammatory and pissed-off than the next.

The whole thing smells and reeks of social engineering, and that is a frightening prospect in and off itself.

See, back in the days of high-strung muscle-tension that is the ever trembling body of feminist “research”, it was decided that the one true way to properly express – and deal with – ones emotions is the feminine way of expressing – and dealing – with ones emotions.

Since the feminine way is deemed the only way, boys and men have needed to be re-structured and re-programmed on a societal level to express their emotions as women tend to do, and in so doing toss their own nature to the fires of Hades as the sinful parasite on society that it is. What else could one gather from this hopeless denial of biology and this shameless shaming of masculinity, than the attempted re-engineering of the nature of men, the biological truth of men mastering their emotions instead of being governed by them; than the tired old view of women as moral and emotional superiors to men, and so the only moral and emotional guidance needed?

If you, like me, have been a victim of this attempted re-engineering, a victim of this brainwashing which claims masculine identity to be wrong and feminine identity to be correct, despite both apparently being solely societal with no biological underpinnings at all, you might know what is coming up next. And that is very simple: our society do not wish to hear about men’s emotional pain. Or the pain of men at all, for that matter. For all the slack-jawed talk that men need to emote, need to open up and talk, there are sure as all hell few ears – if any – willing to listen. More often than not, a man is shamed and shunned should he dare to express his pain and his insecurities. By both men and women. That is to say: by society at large. Strange that this should happen in a society which claims that men, in order to be free from the constraints of traditional gender-roles, need to express their emotions with tears and valuable dialogues; how odd that this should happen in a society which claims that men are treated far better than women in all respects. When the same forces that claim this are the same forces that shame and ridicule men when men do what they claim men need to do, confusion and isolation creeps in.

On the one hand, this is said.

On the other hand, this is shown.

And both hands do nothing but shove a giant middle-finger right into the glazed-over eyes of confused men, trying the best they can to be heard above the hubbub and the constant background noise of women-worsting.

Men, being of course fairly practical by nature, goes by what is shown them. And what is shown, time and again, is that no-one will listen, no-one will offer support. Quite the contrary. People will go out of their way not to listen. People will derail, hijack the attempted conversation, ignore completely or completely miss the point of what is being said. Or they will, quite simply, state that women have it worse or that women experience this as well, and so the man should consider that before complaining. Because in this society in which women are hated ever-so-much(!), the happiness and well-being of women goes above all. Even on an individual level, when speaking of one-self and not having gender as a part of it, it will creep in. This, it seems to me and my perplexed and eternally confused mind, is due solely to the fact that our societies are completely obsessed with gender whilst claiming that gender does not matter. It is a strange level of discord and chaos; gender does not matter, so lets bring gender into everything, even where gender has nothing to do with it – as in the emotional or physiological distress of one individual.

I would dare to offer this one thought in regards to this; or to point out the elephant in the room, as it were: gender does matter. And in trying to not make gender matter, we are making gender matter even more by our insistence that it does not. The elephant can only be ignored for so long. Eventually, something or someone will be trampled.

What I mean by this should be self-evident. Men and women are different. We deal with things differently. We are wired differently. We are biologically different. In trying to erase these differences and claiming complete same-ness in body and mind, we are shooting ourselves in the foot whilst riding the elephant in the room straight over the cliffs, to tumble to the doom of both itself and ourselves. In trying to eliminate and disregard gender and gender-differences, we can not help but see them and in seeing them, we can not help but bring it up. Even when it should not matter.

The simple solution to this should be, in my humble opinion, to let people deal with their emotions and their pain the way that works best for them, regardless of their gender. To treat the pain of one individual and the way this pain is processed as both the pain of, and the path to healing, of that individual, not wrong or right, but his or her way of dealing with it. Let be, and let others let you be, instead of forcing someone to do something that goes contrary to their core being.

If he would talk and cry about it instead of seeking action or solitude, as men are known to do, this should be treated the same as if he seeks action or solitude. There is no shame in either, and there should be no shame in either. Clearly, this is something I believe should apply to women as well. My focus, however, is on men.

And men, by and large, are drawn towards action or solitude as a way of dealing with their pain. The action, I find, is more often than not of a constructive and creative sort. And I can think of no better way to tackle difficulties than to turn what could easily be a destructive force – for instance depression or anger – into something constructive. To create something out of that which would otherwise seek to destroy. To claim, as the feminist hive-mind do, that men suppress their emotions because they do not deal with their emotions as women do – and I am speaking broadly, of course – is to claim that one way is better than the other, instead of it just being different paths to take.

It is as insulting as it is stupid.

In particular when the experiences of men, by and large, who listen to and are suckered in by this attempted re-programming, are that no-one listens when he attempts to speak about it. Or that he is shamed for it. By women as well as men. Now, imagine if the feminist hive-mind had not been so hell-bent on dismantling any and all male-only spaces, whilst, of course, keeping female-only spaces female-only. Men have always offered support to one another. It just takes a form different than the one women tend towards, and in dismantling male-only spaces, a whole hell of a lot of that support flew out the window. Just look to the men’s shed stuff in Australia. But more on that in a later ramble, I think.

From personal experience, anecdotal as it may well be, this holds true. I suffer from chronic pain and chronic fatigue, as well as being constantly in the grips of insomnia, which one would expect does not exactly benefit my emotional state. These three are fairly severe. Of course, it is all intertwined and interconnected, and when the mind is in distress, the body is in distress, and vice versa. Which makes the usual view that body and mind are somehow separated bothers me immensely.

Those few times in the past where I have been so bold as to complain about this in writings or in social media posts, the resultant reactions have been interesting, to say the least. More often than not, it has been ignored. This, I think, is to be expected with posts on social media as a general rule. Other times, I have been shamed for it. With one instance in particular tickling my rage-boner something awful.

In short: I was sent a private message on Facebook by a woman who, of course, self-identified as a feminist, telling me in no uncertain terms that I was “not allowed to make myself out to be so pitiful”. A very interesting way of treating someone in severe pain, don’t you think? In particular considering it is the feminists claiming that men need to talk about their emotions and how they are doing. And that women are more empathetic than men!

Another very interesting observation I have made in regards to my declining health, is that the first instinct of people – and this goes for everyone – is to ask how my wife is doing whenever my health is declining. Her happiness is more important than mine, and the way in which my declining health impacts her is more important than how it impacts me. Now, of course, I am aware that this is a normal thing to ask of people. It has to do, in these instances, with context. And the context here is simple: I am/was in pain. And the first instinct of people was and is to ask how my wife was or is doing in regards to my pain. The first question asked. Not “How are you doing?” but “How is she doing?” In short: how is my pain affecting her?

As a result, and as my eyes have opened more and more to the reality of the world we live in, I have learned to process emotions and to deal with my pain in a manner far more creative and far better suited to me as I am. I have learned that all this talk that men need to open up and be more expressive in regards to their emotions and their health, be that mental health or physical health, is nothing but talk. Because the moment you – as a man – start to open up and talk, you realize that it will hurt you more than it will help. Telling men that they need to express their emotions in a more feminine way presupposes firstly that someone is willing to listen, and that is seldom – if ever – the case. Secondly, it presupposes that what men do and how men do it is harmful, whereas what women do and how women do it is not.

I would be so bold as to state, as I have done before, that neither is bad or good; that they are merely different, that different people have different needs and different methods and that to shame and ridiculeand to un-learn, through force that which comes natural does far more harm than it does good. I would also be so bold as to state that it is only ever how men, generally, do or do not that is shamed and need to be un-learned. Yet again, something incredibly self-evident to anyone willing to see and to listen.

Why not create a movement telling women that they process and deal with their emotions all wrong? Well, that would be sexist. But it is quite alright to tell men that they process and deal with their emotions all wrong. That is not sexist. That is equality made manifest! Because, to these people, equality is whatever they say that it is at any given moment, as long as women can somehow be made to be better than men at something – preferably all the things. Or, as long as the feminine can be made to be better than the masculine, despite none of these, apparently, existing as anything but socialization and as such could be written off as just as expendable and nonsensical as each other. So why, then, pray tell, is the feminine better and more natural than the masculine, when both are made-up cultural constructs, just as much as cultural construct is a made-up cultural construct which, of course, might just as well be dismissed alongside all the other cultural constructs? In short: why is one better than the other, if none of them are real anyway? Nihilism ho! They talk the talk, but do not walk the walk.

This is not to say, of course, that I believe culture and society does not play a part in how we behave. It most certainly does! But to claim that biology plays no part in it is, to my bloodshot and near-catatonic eyes, nonsensical.

How I have learned to cope is fairly simple; I write, and I draw, or I retreat into solitude to mull things over, thinking on it and grinding on it until it is ground into dust and I have transcended it. Some things are of course far more difficult to transcend than others, as is the case with what happened in late January/early February, the results of which still manifest as a severe flare-up of my pain, fatigue and insomnia. Even in the midst of April, when I should be enjoying the early days of spring. Of course, I should give a big shout-out to the wonderful world of self-deprecating humour as well. Finding something to laugh about, even in the midst of severely debilitating pain, loosens the reigns of the thing. And that thing, that wonderful joy of finding something to laugh at, or about, even in the darkest moments of life, lifts the spirit immensely. It turns the whole thing on its head. So; I may be ill. But at the very least, I get to sit at home and get high on painkillers. And that ain’t all bad. Heh.

My writings and my drawings are, as a result of this being a big part of my coping mechanisms, subject to my emotional state at the moment of writing or drawing. As a general rule. Evidently so, considering the bleakness of the thing and things since February. For all my logic – or illusions of logic, depending on which way one sees it, I assume – my writing is highly emotional. And this does not bother me in the least. It may bother other people, of course, which, when one tries to get other people to listen or to read might prove itself to be a problem. The point of it is that it gives me a healthy outlet for anger, depression, anxiety or good old fashioned sarcastic snark. It’s either that, or self-loathing. And I have done enough self-loathing to last me a good dozen life-times or so.

See, in my darkest moments – in prior incarnations of my ever-evolving personality and barely contained psychosis – I was very much a prisoner of feminist indoctrination, and as such considered myself to be a fault and a flaw in and of the world around me. Growing up with the message that men are scum imprinted upon the plasticity that was and is my brain, I could not help but internalize the message. If one viewed it from the outside, one would not hesitate to label it as political indoctrination. For the very simple reason that this is exactly what it was, is and always will be. It was not until I was 28 years of age that I actually heard someone say anything positive about men in general. Prior to this, it had been nothing but shit; hardly a day going by without the message of men’s inherent wickedness and cruelty being fired into my subconscious mind with all the subtlety of a nuclear bomb.

When teachers, subtly or not-so-subtly, constantly and consistently hammered the message of the flaws of men into our immature and under-developed psyches, one could not help but embrace it as a part of ones own personal belief-system. Couple that with the media insisting the same, as well as relatives and everyone else in the social circles of days gone by, one is left with the resultant war-cry, echoing and reverberating within as well as without: “There is something wrong with boys and with men!”

How one can look to this constant message, this constant bombardment, this constant assault upon boys and upon men and upon masculinity as a force of pure good instead of the destructive force of pure chaos and hatred that it is, speaks volumes to the might of gynocentrism and of the manipulative powers of the immense fraud and sham that is feminism.

To look upon the way boys and men are constantly devalued, ridiculed and shamed by not only feminism, but by the society which we inhabit, and then claim that it is a force seeking equal treatment of the genders is absurd on its face. But that is the level of indoctrination, that is the level of manipulation, that is the level of our societal psychosis and the value women have in our society. How one can look upon the treatment of men and the treatment of women in our societies and claim, in unison, that women are oppressed and that men – all men everywhere – are guilty of oppression is as ridiculous as it is laugh-out-loud funny. We ought to howl with mocking laughter at this ridiculousness. But we can’t. The tears get in the way. A wondrous male privilege this; to be allowed to see my very nature dragged, kicking and screaming through the mud and ground-up glass all the way to the hang-womans noose, sentenced to death by our moral superiors!

For years, I believed it all. Swallowed it hook, line and sinker. To sacrifice myself and what I want for the betterment of women. To step down and shut up, not object, not even to the gravest trespasses upon my own personal space or to the devaluation of my mental well-being, were it done by a woman or someone claiming to do good for women. And as the self-loathing grew, so too did my natural expressions of my own masculinity diminish. To the point where I was but a shell, a flimsy transparent nothing. My previous ability to say what was on my mind in regards to any given subject was thrown into the abyss, alongside what was left of my self-respect. I had been, not only told, but shown time and again that any objection to the feminist rhetoric would be shot down, no matter what facts I had, no matter what the truth was. The objections were not shot down by facts, reason or logic, but by shame and ridicule from women, which, for a young man burdened by puberty, the insecurities of puberty as well as insecurities emanating from the feminist insistence that there was something wrong with me by my very nature, were and are absolutely horrible.

For years, I did not cope. I settled for disappearing instead. Isolation and a bleak and nihilistic outlook took precedence. I sought the void, and became a lost boy; not going anywhere, not staying anywhere, not being anything but an over-medicated mess of man forced into psychiatric help which did not wish to see the root cause of the issues I was facing, but chose to medicate the symptoms into oblivion instead, and in so doing medicating me into oblivion alongside the symptoms.

And so, when realization dawned after years and years of this vast and empty nothing, it dawned with the crash and the bang of a thousand suns imploding and exploding, a constantly repeating pattern of implosion and explosion, immediate, immense, powerful, mighty, frightening and masculine as though the gates of hell were opened, unleashing the hounds of war!

I marched to war with what strengths I had, which was – and is – art and writing, wrote the piece “Remembering Rebellion”, not knowing whether or not I would keep writing about these topics. Turned out I would, even at great personal expense.

That, I think, is one of the great masculine virtues: being able to turn something severely destructive into something fantastically constructive, no matter how long it takes to get to that point; to transcend tragedy and despair, not through crying, not through talking, but through action, through creativity, through honestly translating pain and heartbreak, trauma and destruction into language, into symbols, into lines and scribbles aiming, always and ever to transcend, to overcome, to grow and then to follow the process and become stronger, better and even more suited to survive whichever difficulties life – with all its suffering – will throw at one self.

Through “Remembering Rebellion”, I found the rebellious spark which was present in my formative years. And I would urge others to re-find, regain, re-awaken that spark of rebellion, that force seeking to rebel against all that is, all that was, all that ever will be and capture it vividly, fantastically, glowingly, immediately within your minds and guts and balls. To explore it, expand it, explain it through what ever strength one has.

Teenage rebellion is one thing – an unfocused force of self-exploration and self-expression; a force designed to rip one-self loose from the looming authority figures of that time in ones life. Something deep inside which makes one pound ones chest with ones fists and roar primeval, primitive, primordial, beast-like, reptilian that “I am here, and don’t you dare challenge my right to be here or belong here!”

And now, in adult life, with the damage done by feminism so clear to all who are not indoctrinated, who are not clinically insane, who are not still caught in the grips of our dominant ideology, of our demand for ideological purity and conformity, that spark of rebellion seems to me to be more important than ever it was before.

And now, in adult life, with boys and men being beat and shamed and medicated into submission and subservient subjugation to the demands – not of women, but of feminism – an adult mind would be, should be, could be capable of focusing that spark of rebellion through a lens of reason, truth and a demand for consideration and compassion, to make that spark of rebellion so focused, in fact, that it tears through the feminist rhetoric; that it burns right through the skin of feminism and so exposes and utterly dismantles the core, showing it to be nothing but what it always has been; Marxist rhetoric of class and class-warfare re-clothed as gender and gender-warfare.

This is not a war of the sexes. It is a war of ideology against one sex, harming both sexes in the process. It is not men against women or women against men. It is feminism against men and against the very fabric of our societies and all common sense. It stuns me in how cleverly it has been implemented; how fantastically smart it has been in painting any opposition to feminism as an assault on women and on equality between the genders. And how sly and manipulative it has been in painting the abhorrent hatred of boys, men and masculinity as nothing but the actions of “a radical few”, even when the hatred of men evidently lie at the very core of feminism! In order to make people understand that feminism cares for nothing but feminism, fearless rebellion is necessary in exposing feminism for what it is.

It ain’t easy. But then, nothing worthwhile is.

Feminism employs terrorist tactics, terrorizing any opposition, creating fear and layers upon layers of fear in any who dare oppose and object to their ridiculous assertions. Don’t want to lose your job and livelihood, your place of study or your social life?

Better not object.

This is the means through which they maintain power and control. Total social domination under fear of total social death and annihilation of the self. Tyranny clothed in justice. The emperor has no clothes, and only a few are willing to point this out. When one does not show fear in pointing this out, their power diminishes. In the end, they will expose themselves to more and more people as having nothing but flimsy emotional manipulation and the threat of social death and ostracizing on their side. They themselves are doing the non-and-anti-feminists the greatest service there is by behaving just as they do, and in not backing down, not showing fear, but countering and re-countering, they will be forced to expose themselves for the hateful pile of ideological serpents that they are.

Rebellion ain’t easy.

But: we have two things on our side. The truth, and the very simple fact – however silly it may sound – that everyone, whether they admit it or not, loves a rebel.

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Moiret Allegiere is a concerned man who has had enough, and finally started expressing his views on mens issues and the state of the world.  His blog can be found here.Please follow and like us:

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