I don’t hate men. I might be less inclined to engage in sexual acts with a man than with anyone of any other gender, but the reasons for this are complicated, and have really nothing at all to do with misdirected hatred against the whole of men. Most of my friends are cisgendered, assigned male at birth, male-identifying men. Of all of them, I get into heated disputes with just one of them, and on infrequent occasions at that. He doesn’t take it personally, because he knows it’s about the ideas he subscribes to, not about him as an individual, and I put it behind me when I do whatever I need to do to purge my frustration (and sometimes, yes, anger too).
Sometimes I need to write to purge. Other times I simply need to change the subject or be alone. Once in a great while, I really just need a good furious wank — alone (I always feel better with a little flush in my cheeks).
I am neither a radical feminist, nor a radical cultural feminist or “radfem extremist”. I identify myself as (anarcha-)feminist, and I am perceived as a radical (in that, I am willing to push myself significantly further out of my comfort zone for my politics, than many others whose decisions would be used as a point of reference). My politics do not come from a time that pre-dates my very existence, and my commitment to my politics does not require me to emasculate or disempower men, or to refer to them and transwomen alike as eunuchs (a side of “radfem extremists” that deeply and personally offends me).
“Radfems” never speak for me. Though I feel that, at the time they became the instant (reviled) stereotype of feminists everywhere — again, before I was born on this planet — their message was deliberately overstated so as to incite people to radical speech and political action. But the time for this is long past. Many people were incited, alright. And if I were alive at the time, I’d have been one of the people getting angry at them. If I were there at the time, they’d have been attacking me because of my gender.
I refer to myself as a cunt, a shit-disturber, and a radical, because at various times and under various circumstances, these labels were all attributed to me by other people, and I embrace them. If standing up against sexual harassment makes me a cunt, so be it. If I’m a shit-disturber because I dare to think for myself, I’ll happily adopt that label. If I’m a radical because I don’t do anything half-assed when it comes to my politics, then paint me a radical. I am proud to stand by that label.
All these labels really mean is that I stand in opposition to spinelessness and high school drama. I am proud to take on these labels, and I am not afraid of being intimidating simply by virtue of having the strength to take a stand for what I believe in. And I will continue to take that stand as unapologetically as possible, as I have for longer than you could possibly know about.
I know you don’t get it yet, and I don’t care. I’m not waiting for you to “get it”. I stand for myself and for social justice — neither for nor with “radfems”. Nor simply to prove myself to other people. I am already proven by virtue of my existence.
There is not one unifying feminist political ideology or feminism. There are innumerable feminisms. I know you don’t care about that, and I think that’s rather unfortunate.
I can assure you, even though it’s clear your default setting is to ignore or dismiss anything I have to say on the matter, that while there is a minority of feminists and feminisms whose shared goals are to disempower, emasculate, and subordinate men, I do not share a movement with these individuals. They are a minority, and I think their goals are childish, cruel, and unsustainable. Their goals are not my goals.
I am not going to throw punches at you. But if you fight me, I will fight back. I suggest you simply not pick a fight you aren’t prepared to finish, because I don’t do anything half-way.
So go ahead. Play around with semantics and play-act character assassins, internet scientists, and armchair lawyers from in front of your computer monitor until you’re either content or exhausted. I have nothing to lose and you have nothing to gain from any of this (except an echo chamber, which as I understand it, is one of your favourite things).
Just look at all the fucks I give.