A feminst hacked my blog - reader responses

By now you’ve all heard the news: Muse and Abuse was hacked, and my torrent of anti-gay, anti-women, anti-black propaganda shut down.

It’s been a hectic few days. I thought I’d lose my blog forever, but luckily I figured out her password. It wasn’t too hard either. Got it on the first time, too: “OMGdidyoujustassumemygenderSOTRIGGEREDKILLALLMENproblematicBeckiesSTFU”.

I’ve of course, pressed charges, but her father’s expensive lawyer pressured me into dropping the case. Turns out she was right about that two-tiered system of justice.

However, it’s always good to listen opposing sides of arguments – even those you would never vehemently agree with. It keeps you on your toes, keeps your blog from being a circlejerk, and confuses the fuck out of the algorithm that has to try decide what content to serve you on social media platforms.

And since the ordeal, I’ve received a lot of letters addressed to the part-time illegitimate editor of Muse and Abuse. I thought I’d leave the reply (from “Stuart” we’ll call him) below. It's illuminating.

Dear Angie Davison,

Thank you for your bravery. It was truly courageous what you did. You took a risk for a laudable goal: to tell us things. Things we need to hear. Things of dire importance. Things that I, as a straight white male – am not allowed to say because it isn’t my place to contribute to a complex, nuanced discussion of our society and laws.

So thank you. Thank you for taking the incredibly gutsy decision to hack a blog that is read by nearly 12 people.

As a white, straight, cis-male, I think about all those other white, straight, cis-males who inflict such pain on the world by merely being alive. You’re right: men are such fucking scum, especially the white ones. It makes me mad. It makes me ashamed of myself. I’ve thought about killing myself for the past two years just so that there would be one less of me for you to get triggered by at all waking moments.

Feminism isn’t as evil as people think it is. Especially not this latest version of it. It changes lives. It changed my life forever. Let me tell you a story.

When I was in highschool, I was a nerd. I didn’t play any sports. I didn’t have many friends. I was weird. I didn’t develop proper social skills. While all those other boys went out onto the rugby field and re-enacted the values of a violent patriarchy and perpetuated the dangerous norms of ultraviolent masculinity that seeks not only to own women and kill them, but also kill other men who want to own their women, I had to sit and brood.

I was just an adolescent boy, after all. I had hormones. I had insecurities. I had desires. But no girls would talk to me. They would just focus on those rugby boys (of course it was only later that I learned that this is because women are indoctrinated re-enact and re-perpetuate the disgusting patriarchy unless she is doing of her own free will in which case that is an empowering decision and I commend her bravery and FIRE YASS).

And so I sat in sadness.

But where, as we all know, most boys like me would have gone out and murdered hundreds of women in a blood-soaked, sex-driven mass killing spree, I went to a liberal college and discovered our Lordess and saviour, Third-wave Feminism.

Now girls talk to me. I wow them with how amazing they are. I croon agreement and echo their thoughts, agreeing with everything they say because as women they are always right and we need to believe everything they say without hesitation, criticism, or need for evidence. I hold their bags. I snort derisively about men - all men - loudly and aggressively whenever possible.

Sure, they still don’t sleep me, or look at me as anything more than a hand-bag holding lackey to serve as a silent ally without the ability to hold, defend or form his own opinions, but it beats whacking off to Naruto. Besides, who needs the physical touch of another human being if you know you’re an evil that would just infect other, pure, female souls, a sick piece of shit who must atone for the sins of those who share his race and sex?

I’m deeply sorry, Angie (do you have a non-hetero-normative-post-birth-name, or does your assigned identity empower you?), I didn’t mean to say “human”. I meant “humxn”. I’ll add ten dozen “Hail Anita”s and forty “Praise Be to Jessica Valenti”s to my hourly privilege checking.

Anyway, I think third-wave feminism gets a bad rep. So what if it doesn’t use the racist, oppressive so-called “scientific standard”? Who cares if it ignores compelling evidence and argues vague pseudoscience that hasn’t been peer-reviewed beyond a panel of people who share Our Own One Truth? What does it matter if we refuse to have calm, level-headed discussion using clear examples and proven statistics in favour of abject screaming?

It’s all because of unfair stereotypes, baseless generalisations and oversimplified straw-man constructions by trans-hating, racist, misogynistic white male bigots who want to see God-King Trump remove his outer layer to reveal Satan wearing a Hitler costume.

They disparage degrees in Media Studies and Gender Studies – but how else can a person learn not to be a fucking arsehole to women, other men, and people who are different to them? Common decency? Basic human empathy? Societal laws and rules for civil life?

No. Only an expensive four-year degree that saddles you with crippling debt (THANKS FOR NOTHING OBAMA) can do that. Well, that and starting a tumblr blog.

I only ask one thing, Angie. That you delete this blog. Of course, everyone is gonna shout about “MUH FREEDUM OF SPEECH”, but they forget that we have nothing against different opinions. Just as long as they are all different in the same way.

This isn’t funny. This isn’t satire. When I read him making fun of third-wave of feminism, it was triggering. We can’t allow this kind of violence and patriarchal brutality to be meted out any more. I’ve already blocked him on Twitter. Please do us a favour and block him for the rest of the world.

PS: if you’re triggered please please please reach out DM me I have cookies and hugs and blankies and puppies and I can say nice things to you.

Yours in a way that doesn’t condone ownership of other people,

Stuart

I'm taking a stand against this racist, sexist, privileged, problematic page

The bullshittery has gone on long enough.

I’ve known about this website for a while. “Funny”, you might call it, if you think the racist, sexist oppression of minorities and disenfranchised groups - or expressing an opinion that I don't share - is funny. Too long have we let such privilege go unchecked. For years, this site has been allowed to offend. To trigger. Well, no more.

Finally, I decided I’d do something about it. But, halfway through calling the author a "homophobe" and a "racist" on Twitter, using a trendy, clever hashtag that would definitely have changed the world, I thought I’d actually do something.

So I put away my mug of male tears, crawled out of my offense-free safe space ball pit, said twelve "Hail 'Yonces" and hacked his account. I wasn’t even hard. It was the first password I tried: “Ih8womenKillAllMinoritiesKKKstrangleSmallKittens69”.

Who am I? I’m Angie Davison. I’m a diasexual, brynxagender, polymorphic, fairykin pan-amorous feminist whose preferred pronouns are “zyrdl”, “zyrdlre”, and “xzyv” (LEARN THEM OR I WILL BLOCK YOU) and who identifies as a pan-gendered demi-theist, myxa-romantic pluraphorialist (but I’m not sure about that last one so I’ll see how I feel next week). And I am so DONE with this problematic fuckery.

So why did I hack his blog, you ask? Well, all across the world, in colleges and universities from Britain to America to South Africa, Freedom of Speech is under attack. Every time we - feminists and protesters like myself - say or do something virtuous and pure, hordes of droning troglodytes are allowed to reply with their wrong, stupid opinions. Large rallies of Christians and Republicans, and all flavours of controversial speakers are allowed to poison the air with their vituperative agendas, veiled under a thin pretense of "the right to political association and freedom of expression". They're allowed to lampoon our sacred, holy, universal beliefs. It's sick.

For every paper or publication we ban on campus, another pops up. For every song we get blacklisted on campus, another one takes its place. For every problematic noun or word that gets added to a list of potential Disciplinary Offences, a new one is created. For every dissenting, evil voice whose career and life we destroy on social media through paranoia, virtue signaling, and mob hatred, another one pipes up from the gorgeous, progressive silence.

Universities should be a safe space, where all of us - whether you're a POC, a Critical Studies student or someone fighting for a cause I already support - should be allowed to discuss our ideas freely and safely, without criticism or dissent.

I am done with cis-gender white men thinking they can rule and oppress the world and everyone. These straight, white male scum stereotype and box everyone by their sexual orientation, gender identity, race and sex, and then try to make them feel bad about just being who they are. It’s bullshit. They're a bunch of man-spreading, mansplaining, micro-aggressing bigots who reduce everything around them to an oversimplified straw-man. Every day, they inflict mental and systemic violence on hundreds of people just by being there. Their violence is disgusting. If we want to create a more peaceful, tolerant society, we need to kill them all #YESALLMEN.

MICRO-AGRESSING SCUM.
pic: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/User:FriedC

They’re probably even worse than second wave, sorry WHITE feminists, who did even less for society. You’d think that fighting for the vote, reducing voting age, securing fair labour laws and working towards our social and sexual emancipation would have been high on the agenda, but no, Becky with the Bitch hair was too busy listening to hubby, wearing pink and making cute cupcakes to stop the OPPRESSIVE PATRIARCHAL SHITLORDS from continuing their shitty, oppressive, democratically elected campaigns of terror into 2016. Worse still, their practices were hugely islamophobic and Eurocentric. How can scum like Ayaan Hirsi Ali have the audacity to criticise other cultures, or tell them how to treat their women? EUGH YOUR FAVES ARE SO PROBLEMATIC.

They didn’t even think of the biggest issues of our time. Things like white guilt and white privilege. As a white female, it sickens me to think of how many white people there are that don’t make effusive, complicated internet confessions of their sins to seem more enlightened and morally superior than those around them. It makes me so angry I almost spilled cappuccino onto my Macbook Pro's keyboard.

Despite there still being a pay gap in some small areas of society when you don’t adjust for job experience, qualification, time off and maternity leave, do they focus their efforts on this? No. And how can they, because they DON’T UNDERSTAND THE WORLD like we – twenty-something unemployed bloggers with four year degrees in Media Studies and Gender studies – do.

How can you begin to lobby for better, more progressive legislation without a spicy FIRE hashtag? How do even consider studying for something like a law degree to ensure that existing legal frameworks that ensure equality between men and women of any race or creed are upheld and followed to the letter without getting to grips with the deep lattice of competing systems of bigotry and prejudice that make me a lot more oppressed than you? How can we work towards a better, more considerate society if we aren’t ostracising those who think differently from us and use words or ideas that offend me?

Let this be a lesson to all of you out there. We are woke. We are watching. The days of this kind of oppressive, unfunny, fuckery that masquerades that “satire” and makes fun of things that I don’t find funny are numbered.

Making fun of Donald Trump or insulting African and traditional leaders who hate gay people is okay. I don't mind if he writes highly charged, ironic posts about how female voices are underrepresented in traditional, academic and legal spheres. I can even support his parodying of Men's Rights Activists. But to make fun of things I don't find funny, or my personal beliefs is a level of privileged fuckery that I won't tolerate. Say one more goddamn word about bell hooks and I’ll give this blog the Blurred Lines treatment: it'll be gone faster than a tweet that disagrees with whatever I say or do.

The choice is yours, boy: Check your privilege and check your hate speech, or Muse and Abuse goes bye-bye.

“Of course I’ll work for free” says no person ever

Shock and awe this morning, after literally no one in human history came to you today and agreed that they would work for utterly no pay whatsoever.

The man – 26-year-old Jake Henderson, whose name and age we made up because he is purely fictitious – made the startling announcement this morning, saying he’d do that thing you want him to spend several dozen hours this weekend doing for you without being fairly compensated.

“Of course I’ll do it for no money,” he said taking time out of his busy schedule being a nonentity to speak to reporters. “DJ-ing at your birthday this Friday, playing guitar at your club event on Saturday, or even coming up to your wedding to take photographs, edit them, and then email them all to you – I’ll do all of this, and you don’t even have to give me a dime.”

“I know it takes hours of my time to design a website entirely from scratch, and that this is a skill that has taken years of study, practice, and hundreds of dollars’ worth in software, tuition and time to master, but you don’t have to pay me,” he continued in a statement that does not exist because you’d be crazy to write it. “I’m pretty sure my landlord and the bank accept the exposure I’ll get from doing this as legal tender for paying rent or my various living expenses.”

And Jake is just one of thousands of people who are not alive, and never have been, who share this controversial opinion.

“Jake’s totally right,” said Eric Smith, who, even if you were to look through the annals of human history, delving into even the most ancient records of our species, you would not locate because he has never existed and never will. “It’s like I said to my boss the other day: of course I’ll come in this weekend and at 7am on Sunday and not claim overtime from you.”

And scientists now say research shows that this is merely the tip of the iceberg.

“You think people would say, ‘what the hell, what kind of idiot would ask me to come in this Saturday when I clearly asked for this weekend off three weeks ago?’ or, ‘no ways, I’m not doing that shit for free – at least respect me enough to pay for my transport to the venue halfway across goddamn town’,” said head researcher for the Institute of Shit No One Says, Thomas Everson. “But our research indicates that of course I don’t mind if you went to the fridge and drank the last of my milk without asking, and that it’s totally okay if you borrowed my car without my permission and then didn’t clean up the burger crumbs or even contribute towards petrol costs.”

This study also suggests that yeah man, go ahead, change the channel right in the middle of whatever I’m watching, I don’t mind.

“It might sound like we’re living in a crazy world,” said Everson, “but you know what, if we agree to split the bill equally at a restaurant, you don’t have to feel guilty about ordering the $17 spare rib special, or even throw in a tip for the waitress.”

They said I was crazy to try and build a spaceship that runs on toothpaste. They were right

Pursuing your dreams isn’t easy. As any dreamer, any person who has ever followed that arduous and rocky road to your goals and desires knows, in life you meet a lot of obstacles.

Doubters.

Nay-sayers.

People who think that you’re crazy: that your idea will never work, that it’s impossible. And many, many times, with hard work and perseverance, these obstacles can be overcome, these nonbelievers shown up.

This was not one of those times.

Growing up, I had a dream to fly to the moon and stars. When I was just a young boy my father would take me out into the field and we would lie in the cool, soft grass and watch the stars twinkle in the unreachable distance. He would trace out constellations with his finger, giving each one a shape, a name, and I would tell him, “I’m going to go there one day, dad. You’ll see. I’ll build a big spaceship, one that runs on toothpaste, and I’ll fly among the stars.” It sounded crazy: but it was so crazy, that is just might work.

My dad would smile, pat me on the back as only a loving father can, and simply say, “lol are you totally nuts that’ll never work.”

The basic concept is no different from
any other rocket engine. 

As I grew up, the dream grew. I knew that my dad was wrong, even if he was factually correct. Every night I would spend countless hours in the basement, working until daybreak drawing up rough sketches of how this magnificent machine would work. I would show them, I told myself. I would show them all.

Looking back, I realise, boy, toothpaste isn’t really a great combustible substance.

I eventually dropped out of school to work on my invention. “You’re wasting your life!” my physics teacher screamed at me as I walked out the school entrance, slamming the doors on all the negativity and scepticism that was my daily experience. “Seriously, in terms of actual real-life physical possibility, you won’t succeed.”

They doubted me. They thought I was crazy. “It’ll never work,” they said. “Toothpaste is not a reliable, energy-efficient or economically viable fuel,” they told me.
They were right.

“You’re wrong!” I shouted back with a laugh, knowing that one day I’d prove her and all the jeering children and staff at my school wrong by zooming off into outer space, leaving nothing but a long, minty-fresh contrail in my wake. Of course it was only years later, as I sat in the basement looking over my blueprints after my 983rd failed launch, that I realised they were right - but does that really matter?

Is my dream really so far-fetched?
Why should the "medical knowledge" of
"clinical psychiatrists" dissuade us?

And so I worked, day and night. There was no sacrifice I considered too great. A series of failed girlfriends and relationships came and went. I missed my father’s funeral. My brother and I fell out of contact. My dog died. I think I forgot to feed him. I wonder if dogs can eat toothpaste.

But through it all, I’ve learnt a valuable lesson: you have to follow your dreams. Well, that, and also that the cost per ounce versus combustion potential of Colgate makes it an impractical choice of fuel.

Life is full of disappointments and setbacks. It’s chock-a-block packed with so-called “friends” and “family” who think your dreams are impossible, are too big, will never work, are contrary to the very principles of rocket science.

And sometimes you’ve got to cut this negativity from your life.

It’s hard, I know. When I first told my sister, “I have dreams, ambitions; the lizard people watch us - they know all. A new utopia of greenery and prosperity await, in hidden Xanadu-esque caverns buried hundreds of kilometres below Mar’s rocky plains,” well, it wasn’t easy to look her in the eye and summon up the courage to defend my dreams and say, “you’re family, why won’t you support my dreams, it’s probably the brain-leeches the Zerngions injected into you as a foetus seriously you should go for a professional defogulation and invest in aluminium cerebro-brainwave protector.”

Work hard. Believe. Ignore the nay-sayers and scientists.

Because nothing should ever stand between you and your dreams. Not even a straitjacket.