History Lesson

Core: How To Connect With Your Masculine Energy

Real Masculinity and Manhood

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While the radical feminists are a small and rabid cult, the majority of modern equal right advocates, the true heiresses of the cultural revolution of the 60's and 70's, never really lost sight of their commercial goals. These "liberated" women couldn't afford to hate men (at least not openly)-it would be like biting the hand which was writing out the check that fed them.

In 1963, when Betty Friedan (who, twenty years later would champion Dustin Hoffman's "Tootsie" as the masculine ideal) published her seminal book The Feminine Mystique, she lit the fuse on a time bomb of social controversy. Friedan moaned that women had been "forced" into "dreary" lives as wives and mothers (Gloria Stemem termed the home, unbelievably enough, a "pink-collar ghetto"), wasting their brains and talents by being excluded from the business world. She was hardly an inspired emancipator, however-liberation of all sorts was already stirring in the underground, like new shoots pushing up in the spring. In the south, blacks were campaigning for civil rights, and hippies had begun to challenge the Leave-It-To Beaver mythology of suburban comfort and security. Notwithstanding, The Female Mystique touched a raw female nerve; for women, it was as if someone had suddenly turned on all the lights in a huge, abandoned mansion. Friedan told them that they could have their cake and eat it, too: while their husbands labored to pay the mortgage, housewives could go back to school or take a glamour job or work for a charity to convince themselves of their productivity and worth. And this was the problem in a nutshell. Entranced by her own militantism, Friedan had neglected to factor feminine delusional systems into her equation: it's easy to be liberated when someone else is paying your bills. All at once women wanted to crusade for equality, but not at the expense of their comfortable lifestyles. Whether Friedan realized it or not, The Feminine Mystique was pointing a very indirect finger at dishonest whoredom, and sowing the seeds of the most brazen hypocrisy which was to come. The 60's housewives had amused themselves with setting up the props and the scenery, but it fell to their idealistic daughters to act out the proper roles in the play. These young women were open-hearted revolutionaries, who shook off inherited "truths" and seized the new zeitgeist by the throat. By the early 70's women were stampeding into universities. Bras came off, drugs were mind-expanding, and the commercialization of the birth control pill banished any fears of pregnancy. Freed from the puritanical restraints of their mothers' "morality", for the first time women allowed themselves to be uninhibited and unmercenary about their sex drives suddenly they were demanding orgasms instead of cash. A true New Age of female honesty seemed to have begun: they had ripped the mask off their self-deception and exposed the fraudulence of their whoredom. It was an era of unransomed freedom and hot-blooded exploration. It was the foundry of true feminism (which doesn't hate or use men), untainted by greed, a philosophy which furloughed women to educate themselves and pursue careers, while at the same time pleasuring their bodies without selling them. Waving their banners of peace and love and unqualified sexuality, the young women of this generation had stumbled across the great secret of successful relationships: partnership instead of cash. But as glorious as it should have been, this "New Age" was doomed, almost a stillborn child. Its tragic mistake lay in overlooking women's venal history, believing, in a Camelot like moment, that the female soul could exist unsullied by greed, and that women were capable of being tutored by the natural rhythms of the human heart. By the mid-70's the buoyant idealism of youth had been rubbed a bit raw: thousands of new graduates were having their eyes opened to the reality that college life was a false image of the real world-it had granted them freedom without the chains of responsibility. Young men and women were matriculating into the marketplace, and were surprised to learn that they could no longer get away with partying all week, then cramming at the last minute to fulfill their sales calls. Men, indoctrinated by their mothers to be workhorses to support women, reverted to this lethal brainwashing; and as soon as they saw the college partyers earning money, women scurried to swap their baggy sweatshirts for plunging necklines. When nobody had any money, it was fine to give sex away, but now the old adage rang clear and cold in their minds: why should a man buy the cow when he can get the milk for free? Prostitution was back, and free love, the sexual revolution, had all wisped away to a fading memory, like the remnants of an hallucinogenic dream. These young liberationists, rebellious though they were, had internalized their mothers' messages too well. No longer were they burning their bras-now they were stuffing them. No man was going to sneak a peek without first paying the admission fee.

Cultural change does not proceed in quantum jumps, but evolves at a much more erratic pace, often encompassing times of transition. The Disco era was one of these transitional stages, arising from the social disintegration and scattering of forces which was the wake of the 1970's. Directionless young people were searching for a hook upon which to hang their lives; they stood poised between the dying vestiges of innocence and a surging new riptide of materialism. The riptide swelled, and Disco emerged, pointing like a flashing neon arrow at the brutal avarice which belonged to the future. Like the hippies, Discoers wore costumes to assure themselves of their identities: they traded in love beads for gold chains and tie-dye for polyester dripping with dancing sweat. But whereas the hippies had celebrated lovemaking as a wholesome and natural act, now the campfires of the communes were electrified into the dazzling lights of the city, and a new sensuality was throbbing through the urban nightclubs. The beat of Disco music was deliberately syncopated to the pulse of the human heart; women's dresses were slashed to display thigh and breast; and men's pants looked shrink-wrapped to their crotches. When they danced, partners interlaced fingers and caressed bodies, just as their parents had, 20 years ago. But the cult of materialism put a price tag on such contact. Women were once again baiting men with their sexuality and selling it to the highest bidder. The sexual revolution had emancipated females to express their sensuality, but love was no longer free-Disco had snapped its fingers and awakened a hypnotized greed.

In a perverse way, the radical feminists were more committed and loyal to their doctrine because, even though their innate bigotry presumed more sexism than the claims imagined for their "oppressors", at least these women were flying the flag of solidarity and not relying on men to support them. Their hate was virulent enough to strangle down normal female avarice. But with the dawning of the 80's-the Yuppie era-a new brand of feminism had emerged: the pseudo feminist. In a milieu of designer labels, power lunches, corporate raiders, and soulless consumerism, these women forged their ideology with a viperous will. They dissected the feminist manifesto with their manicured talons and culled whatever suited their best interests. Their amended version of equal rights was gimmee, gimmee, gimmee. Men were making money-lots of money-and women wanted it, and the message they had harvested from the hard-core feminists was an excuse to plunder male bank accounts. "Empowerment" was translated into a license to steal. Their mothers might have been bothered by a suspicion of inner deception, or perhaps even wrestled with their consciences because they were living off the fat of the land while their husbands sweated over deadlines and cursed their lost dreams; but these newly-created hypocrites were tossing out even these proprieties-they expected to be handed everything free of charge. At least their mothers would have rolled over on their backs once in a while, but these women weren't even bothering to lure men with the promise of sex-they just wanted and took and held their hands out for more. The only bulge in a man's pants they were interested in was the bulge of his wallet.

Drunk with power, calculating and self-centered, the false feminists trampled men into peonage, and sexually famished males doled out anything these harpies grasped for. Women had become true oppressors, and they were scavenging male flesh with red tooth and claw. But in order for a tyrant to most ruthlessly exploit her victims, she must first depersonalize them into "things", so what little conscience she has will never bother her. Thus the pseudo feminists borrowed the hate and blame cards from the radicals' nasty deck. With shrill, venom-laced voices they began to vilify men as "pigs" and "liars", to label them as sex-crazed seducers worthy only of scorn. Such depraved creatures could hardly be thought of as sex objects; instead women degraded them into "money objects". And when these women weren't handed a job or a promotion, they put the blame on men-never on their own incompetence or inexperience. If no one asked them for a date, it was because men were "intimidated" by their intelligence or position, not because their arrogance and bad attitudes betrayed them as unpleasant companions. And if they weren't married, the reason was that men "can't make a commitment", not because no man would relish a lifetime of living with a cold-hearted bitch.

The Yuppie empire was built on the shifting sands of an artificial economy, and when its infrastructure began to crumble, social theorists happily predicted a New age for the 90's, which was supposed to be an era of diminished materialism and enhanced intergender relationships. Shirley MacLaine had already tried to blaze a trail with her silly pastiche of 19th century spiritualism and modern pseudoscience: crystals, pyramids, and channeling touched off a worldwide fad for the supernatural because these sophistries provided an antidote for the yawning emptiness of the "greed is good" 80's. MacLaine preached anti-materialism (although she made a fortune from seminars and book sales) and "going within". Sheep-like women followed her in herds. They may have taken a journey inside themselves, but apparently there wasn't much to be found, because when they came back out again, their mercenary attitudes had not been channeled away. Somebody-men-had to be paying the rent while these women were off seeking harmonic convergence or running with the wolves. Shirley MacLaine's "New Age" was more of a whim than a renewal-it takes more than mumbling a few chants over a shard of rock to make a woman relinquish her whoredom.

The 90's were supposed to be the "we" decade. But such idealism does not take into account the voraciousness of female avarice. Like sharks sensing blood in the sea, women had been gorging themselves in a feeding frenzy of lust for masculine earning power, a hunger which, once awakened, would prove impossible to slake. It is crucial to understand that nowhere in the separatist gospel of the radical feminists, or in the mercenary gluttony of the pseudo feminists is there any conviction of a true desire for social equity. The hard-core feminists despise the male gender so much that they believe that a man's only possible redemption would be to become a woman; and the false feminists, besotted with their self-serving doctrine of predation, seek only societal permission to take men for everything they have. But attacking or objectifying men are just childish shortcuts; this is not aiming at a solution, but focusing full attention on me, me, me, and consigning blame to everyone but yourself. These women want to alienate themselves from men, and use them, but they are working at cross purposes. What they don't realize is that their third-rate philosophies are ultimately dependent upon men, not only to define themselves, but also to subsidize their duplicity. A true feminist-and there are very, very few of these likes men. She revels in their company, just as men revel in the company of an honest woman, not for monetary gain, but simply for the excitement and mystery which glamorizes the opposite sex. She lives with the profound belief that men and women can exist in a spirit of harmony and partnership. This, of course, is the point which the dishonest feminists shut their eyes and ears to (and couldn't care less about): that men and women are fundamentally different, both physiologically and intellectually, and that nature has designed them this way so that they will complement and reinforce each other, so that each gender will contribute its own remarkable strength to a successful relationship.

But the pathetic reality is that the false feminists care only about themselves. They are their own worst enemies. Without even a glimmer of insight or understanding, they are diligently erecting the gallows which will hang them all.

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