Cannon Fodder in the Feminists’ War

Commenter Dom asks a fair question in response to this post:

Since she wasn’t raped, is there any reason why “Jackie’s” identity is still being withheld, or why journalists are not tracking her down to see WHY she lied? That seems like important information to me.

And can’t she be sued or prosecuted for SOMETHING? Certainly she isn’t innocent.

I responded to Dom’s question, good egg that I am, but I will tidy it up a bit and repeat it here.

It was painfully obvious from reading the original Rolling Stone article that “Jackie” was a fantasist.  It wasn’t the police that failed her, it was whatever passes for mental health services in the USA.  She said her friends didn’t take her claims seriously, something I would interpret to mean some people who weren’t her friends thought she was a bit nuts and nodded kindly when she poured forth her tales.  I suspect they’d been hearing them for a while by the time she invented the gang rape.  One could ask if the university administration could have spotted the signs and got her some help, but my guess is they are terrified of getting sued in some way or, worse, being accused of political incorrectness including (but not limited to) being judgemental.  Whatever the case, this girl needed help.

Instead of assistance she got third-wave feminists who cynically exploited her in order to further their own agendas.  They would have convinced this poor woman that her fantasies were real and her rape the result of a violent patriarchal situation which simply doesn’t exist.  If she was disturbed before they got hold of her, I’d imagine she’s six times worse now.

Why I am angry at this is I have met people who’ve fallen under the influence of third-wave feminists, young women who made unwise choices and ought to have dealt with them properly and grown up.  Instead they found comfort in people who told them they’d done nothing wrong, all their misery was caused by other people, and they shouldn’t take responsibility for anything.  They enter their twenties being still acting like teenagers and their feminist “friends” ensure they stay that way emotionally and psychologically until middle age and beyond.  Without this poisonous influence they may have had half a chance of maturing and being able to function in normal social and romantic relationships, but to feminists these women are simply cannon fodder in the greater cause.  “Jackie” at UVA was merely one such casualty of this appalling war that’s being waged.

I formed my response to Dom’s question this morning, and by chance over at David Thompson’s blog he has linked to a review of the feminist Jessica Valenti’s latest book which include elements which I find depressingly familiar.  I’ll quote them without comment.

She was only 17, a middle-class girl from Queens, N.Y., and Tulane — an elite private liberal arts school where annual tuition is now $51,010 — can be a cruel place for girls like that. Why was she there? Because when her ambitious parents “saw the campus buildings and ivy and grass, it looked to them the way they imagined colleges were supposed to look, and so they were happy and proud.”

The belief that New York is the only place in America worth living has become anidée fixe among young writers, even as the Internet has made it possible for anyone to be a writer anywhere. No doubt the neighborhood in Brooklyn where Valenti and Golis live is crowded with would-be writers in their 20s, English majors fresh out of college, crowded into tiny apartments, working day jobs to pay the rent in hope that their spare-time hobby — poetry, fiction, political commentary, whatever — will someday make them famous.

Dear God, what awful choices she has made in her life! Her personality was warped by insecurity, a problem made worse by the way her parents burdened her with their own ambitions and, of course, there was New York City itself.

Many genuinely despicable behaviors are commonplace in big cities, including violent crime, drug abuse and sexual hedonism. Ms. Valenti was a practitioner of the latter two vices from an early age, but goes to some length to avoid admitting that her behavior was wrong. She recounts her use of marijuana, ecstasy (MDMA) and cocaine as if being a dopehead was an ordinary aspect of life, the same way she discusses her drunkenness and all the various “hook-ups” and “relationships” in which she engaged.

She takes for granted that every intelligent person votes Democrat, just as she assumes that life in New York is the only life worth living. Having internalized these peculiar prejudices (to call them what they really are) from childhood, Ms. Valenti cannot step outside herself to examine her values objectively, to wonder if life may be better for people who live and think differently.

Have I talked about how her heart has been poisoned by envy since childhood? Oh, she was the uglier of two sisters, and keenly aware of this as a girl.

Yes, young ladies, it’s still true — lots of guys are OK with dating a slut for a while, but they don’t usually marry them.

Ron turns out to be more or less a sociopath — charming, but dishonest and unreliable.

Having convinced herself that promiscuity was harmless, she wasted her youth on a series of guys chosen on the basis of shallow judgments.

What sort of deep-seated masochist tendency explains her husband’s choice, perhaps no entirely sane person could ever hope to comprehend.

You could map almost every aspect of that onto Laurie Penny, who I wrote about here, and is frequently the subject of David Thompson’s postings.  These feminist writers have considerable influence and gullible young women who may be seeking some direction get pulled into their orbit and their lives ruined.  The results aren’t pretty.

I’ve not met Jessica Valenti nor Laurie Penny, but I have met somebody whose own life could be summarised in those extracted paragraphs: parents sent her to a top university in the hope she would make something of her life; spending everything she earned in order to live in Brooklyn among “artists”; arrived in New York carrying deep insecurities which drove her straight into the arms of the city’s perverts; a history of drug abuse and sexual promiscuity; a vociferous Democrat supporter, along with everyone she knows; fraught relations with a prettier, more conventional sister; incapable of having a normal, functioning relationship; fell for the charms of an older man who turned out to be dishonest and unreliable; has convinced herself her promiscuity in her youth was harmless; endured a 2-year marriage with a man she hated throughout; failed to take the slightest responsibility for any her lifestyle choices.  Very little of this was inevitable due to who she was, but it became so thanks to the people around her.

It’s an absolute fucking tragedy that this is happening.


8 thoughts on “Cannon Fodder in the Feminists’ War

  1. To be honest, third wave feminism scares me more than drugs or boyfriends with motorcycles when it comes to my daughter.

    Your (excellent) post accurately summarises why that’s the case.

    Assholes exist, and for my money, a third waver is no different to a sexual predator- both offer lies and platitudes before screwing you.

  2. I honestly don’t think the driving force of using people for their agenda is what they are about. I think it’s much like the old adage, misery loves company. They realize they are miserable, but if more people are also miserable that passes for proof that it’s external, not internal.

  3. @ Bastard,

    Assholes exist, and for my money, a third waver is no different to a sexual predator- both offer lies and platitudes before screwing you.

    Indeed: young women should be conditioned to avoid assholes with criminal records and third-wave feminists alike. I say conditioned because you can’t actually tell them or warn them, they won’t listen. But provide them for most of their life with a decent role model in the form of a confident, traditional father and that will do more than anything to keep her from going off the rails.

  4. @ Allen,

    I think you are right in the general sense, but in “Jackie’s” case she’s been used as a pawn in the gender wars.

  5. @ Bastard,

    Why women fall in love with murderers, violent men and sex offenders

    Oh yeah, it’s a well known phenomenon. See also this.

    It’s also why women should not be working as prison guards in maximum security prisons: too many of them end up in relationships with the inmates.

  6. I find the idea of a gender war, as Tim mentions in his reply to Allen, to be fascinating.

    That there has always been a struggle between men and women in some fashion is not in doubt: you can see that in all its glory in Macbeth as well as numerous other classic tales. But a war is a quite different matter to what some may regard as a prelude to bedroom games. War is about winning, and winning a war is only possible if the enemy is utterly defeated and even crushed beyond hope of returning.

    I accept that we have got used to the idea of a ‘war’ as being something of a struggle but without identifiable aims, such as the ‘war on drugs’ in which some drugs are tacitly accepted and others checked in their flow only because the people doing the checking aren’t benefitting from the flow. We also see real wars today in which technologically superior nations invade a small, backward regions without a clear end point identified or exit strategy considered, hamper our forces with complex rules of engagement and denial of equipment and resources, and continue to struggle to ‘keep the peace’ where there never was any in the first place.

    The result of misusing the word war is it soon becomes a feeble idea, acceptable in the same way that people might be said to be ‘battling’ for some spurious and temporary idea of acceptance. But as for women seeing themselves at war with men, what is the end point of that conflict? Is there a definition of victory? Are there rules of engagement or does anything go, from outright lying to the disruption of innocent lives? More, is there an exit strategy when it is all done with?

    What do the women who win do with the remains of the men?

    If the answer from feminists of any wave is that there are none of those things, but the fight must go on, then it isn’t a conflict that can be won. It can only be a war of no point, unresolved and ultimately, wearying for all concerned.

    *Allow me to tell you a personal tale: one of my sons married a girl who is an absolute treasure, but she chose for herself to identify for some time with an aggressive, feminist standpoint. She got tattoos, had her face pierced, dyed her hair outrageously (okay, pink is not that outrageous) and consorted with people who hated men. She might have seen herself in a war against all sorts of the unnamed evil that men do, or allegedly think of doing. And then she met my son. They fell in love, got married and I met her at the wedding for the first time as they live abroad. Bless her heart, because she apologised to me and my wife for her tattoos and piercings because she said she never thought she would meet anyone and get married. She had set her stall out on other people’s terms, and now she blushed about what gone on happened before.

    We gave her a huge hug, because we aren’t in a war with anyone at our house. Better, it gave me a chance to thank her for making my son happy, because in the end that is the only thing we can all hope for.

    Sorry, feminists, right there you lost a soldier in your endless, ill-considered war.

  7. She had set her stall out on other people’s terms, and now she blushed about what gone on happened before.


    That is the difference between your daughter-in-law and the one I referred to at the end of my post: she blushed, showed some embarrassment, grew up, and moved on. A chunk of my book is devoted to the importance of doing this (for both men and women). If she had met your son and angrily defended her previous lifestyle choices and screamed at him for “judging“, I imagine he’d not have married her. I’d hope not, anyway.

    Good for her, good for him, good for everyone. Except the feminists. Fuck them.

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