Of late I’ve been engaging with a
lot of critiques of modern, or post modern, feminism and it’s been enlightening
– curiously coincidental with a lot of insights I’ve gleaned over the years. I
was born in the early 70’s and was there for the early days of the media’s push
for equality between the races and gender. It seemed like the right thing.
People should not be victimised for the colour of their skin or their gender, only
an insane person could think otherwise. I’ll never forget the words of Martin
Luther King Jr, wherein he said that he had a dream of a nation where one day
his children ‘would not be judged by the colour of their skin, but by the
content of their character.’ I’ll never forget those words. They resonated so strongly
with my soul that I pledged there and then to never judge any person by
anything other than their ‘fruits’ – the content of their character.
But over the years the stated aim
of this drive for equality has morphed beyond all recognition. Indeed, it would
seem that in fighting monsters, it has become a monster. It seems like ‘equality
for all’ has become a sort of unquestionable orthodoxy the very questioning of
which evokes paroxysms of heretical outrage reminiscent of the bloody days of
the (Un)Holy Inquisition. It seems that the idea has become so narrowly defined,
and so utterly incapable of nuance, as to be, not merely redundant, but
actually harmful to the great gains this drive has established. Such that it is
now poised to drag us into a culture worse than any has yet existed in the past.
This is disconcerting, to say the least.
Recently, I was making dinner
for my girls and, as I was peeling the potatoes, ‘When a Man love a Woman’ by
Percy Sledge played over my speakers and the imagery and lyrics danced in my
mind and spoke deeply to me about the insanity of the age and alluded to the
cure.
I thought about the love of which
this man sang. I thought about my two little girls and how I hope that, when
they grow to be women, they find someone that loves them so and that they love them every bit as much. Percy sang of the
joys and ecstasy of finding ‘the one’ and the hell and horror that ever attends
upon the realisation that you have fallen for the ‘wrong one’. I thought about
the amazing devotion of the lover for the beloved. I considered how I have
found such love and know other men and women that have been so blessed and try
as I might, I could see no patriarchy
in that relationship.
I have learned over the years
that true love wants only to serve but fear needs
control. Love inspires the urge to serve but fear inspires the craving to dominate. The service born of
love is voluntarily bestowed upon the beloved. Technically, my two daughters
are uncaring and ever demanding tyrants. If they are awake, I must be awake. If
they are hungry, I must get them food. Technically, they have all the power. My
life is no longer my own. My life is theirs and it is to be exercised for their
good, regardless of my personal desires or wants. Does that mean that I live in
a Matriarchy?
Men and women have loved one
another genuinely, truly, madly, deeply for aeons and between sincere lovers there
is no urge to dominate only to serve – even to freely and gladly die for the
enhancement of their welfare. The relationship that exists between sincere
lovers cannot be sullied by claims of power and dominance, such things are
anathema to true love. However, to those that do not [or cannot know] know such
love – there is only power and urge to dominate.
Percy said, ‘Loving’ eyes can
never see’ and these words carry much wisdom. Love is a lens that pierces
through the surface and perceives the core, the treasure hidden in the heart of
the beloved. A person in love sees things in the beloved to which everyone else
may be blind and often causes them to wonder ‘what the heck does she seen in
him?’ or vice versa. In an ideal situation this works well but when one falls
for a monster, the image crafted by your brain is censored so profoundly that
all you can see are the positive elements and virtually nothing of the negative.
You see the good ‘in potential’ but
they never manifest it. You may wait patiently for the good to emerge but it
never does. It chokes and dies in their heart and you wait and suffer, wait and
suffer – until you can suffer no more.
On the other hand, HATE – the shadow
of fear – is likewise a filter, only hate removes all that is good and focuses
solely on the negative qualities. Interestingly, neuroscience has taught us
much on how the brain filters data depending on particular attitudes, biases,
and situations.
These reflections reminded me of
the Master’s insistence that we approach all from an attitude and perspective
of sincere love – even towards our oppressors, in fact especially towards our oppressors. Life has taught me that things conceived
in anger cannot prosper, while all those things conceived in love cannot fail. It
is, then, the better part of wisdom to endeavour always to respond with love
towards all things, good or evil, lest we unthinkingly multiply the evil and
darkness in the world.
I am therefore led to conclude that
the primary drive that underpins the hateful attitude that is lorded over all as
a virtue by 2nd or 3rd Wave Feminists is rooted in fear
and that all their outrage is nothing more than ceaseless manipulation, a macroscopic
cultural expression of the loveless narcissist who craves power and control. It
seems that society is [at least in the West] like a pair of defunct lovers. One
is sincere and adoring but the other interprets everything as a power play, it
projects onto every one and every thing its own sickness – being utterly unable
to conceive of the selfless love which lives only to serve.
