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January 20, 2005

I am totally up for some smiting. I have severe wroth to vent.

Ok, so I’m doing some browsing through interesting blogs, via this blog, which I quite like. It seems I’m actually not really pulling my weight as a feminista extravaganza. I’ve gotten dull. I’ve gotten domesticated. I’ve gotten depoliticised.
Whatever happened to the hard-hitting, take-no-prisoners dogpossum who’d cheerfully roast fellow undergrads in English subjects, or take on arsehole blokes in my ‘peer’ group for their unsavoury comments?

These days I just keep on reading when the regular band of misogynists make comments on Swing Talk. And what the HELL am I doing with guys who continually comment on their female friends’ breasts, arse, body in my peer group? WHAT am I thinking? It is not ok to interrupt a woman-in-conversation with a comment that she should “keep doing that – you’re turning me on” when she’s demonstrating bounce in lindy hop. It’s especially not ok when the guy doing this has had a few drinks and is compensating for said woman’s demonstration of superior dance knowledge. It’s absolutely, 100% WRONG for me to sit there and say nothing when I see this clever, capable woman embarrassed in front of her friends. It is SO wrong it makes me gag that I don’t say anything – I don’t step up and call him on his bullshit – because, as with swing talk, I’m thinking ‘don’t rock the boat’.

GodDAMN I’ve had enough of this shit.

And while I’m on the topic, what makes guys think it’s ok to sexualise a woman, to add a sexual subtext or theme to a conversation or general social interaction in mixed company? Now, I’m certainly no prude – hell, I’m the original Mz Potty Mouth – but why is it that 90% of the men in swing are incapable of making grown up judgements about when and where it’s appropriate to turn on the potty? Is every guy in the swing community locked into some scary adolescent world where women are really either potential-fucks, past-fucks, someone-else’s-fuck, or unfuckable?
I mean, HELL, can’t they just figure out that it’s generally not ok to initiate the dirty talk with a woman they don’t really know, in mixed company? Do they not realise that said talk will not, in fact, impress said woman, nor convince her that yes – judging from the aforementioned talk – this is a Man worthy of her time and interest. In other words: you won’t impress anyone – not that woman, nor any thinking man around you – with high school smut and social bullying.

Right. I’ve had enough.

And for all the swing guys I know who read this blog: if you’re thinking about making some smart comment along the lines of “so you’re getting all radical, are you?”, be warned: I might not come back at you with a bad-arse wisecrack to devastate you in front of friends and foe alike, but I sure as hell will go out of my way to decimate your reputation amongst the sistahs after the show. While the not-so-radical sistahs mightn’t take public issue with your behaviour, and while they might even laugh along with your lame-arse jokes, they probably aren’t digging it. And they’re sure as shit not thinking ‘my, what a clever and observant guy he is. I’d so definitely want to spend some more time with him’.

So, if for no other reason than to keep in with the ladeez: cut that bullshit out. Only your dough-arse mates think its funny, and that’s only because they’re a) drunk; b) alcohol damaged; c) stuck in some weird-arse perennial adolescence; or d) pining on yo arse with some suppressed homosocial desire which is perhaps most likely a response to the populist misogyny that convinces them that all women are less than men because they are really nothing more than an object defined by their proximity to their dick, or to someone else’s.

Phew. So yes, I’ve been sitting on some righteous feminist angst for a while.
And if I were any of the fuckwits in the swing community who’ve been shitting me lately, I’d be watching my back. Or my front. Because I’ve had just about enough. And MAN do I have one arse-kickingly fast wit. I will destroy yo ass in front of a crowd. I will reduce you to unintelligible grunts with my whip-like one-liners. And if I can’t get you with the dialogue, I will SO fuck you up on the dance floor, motherfuckers.

I am totally up for some smiting. I have severe wroth to vent.

Posted by dogpossum on January 20, 2005 3:46 PM in the category