The humiliation of “real Russian women” – and why conservatives get off on it

The humiliation of “real Russian women” – and why conservatives get off on it

“A woman owes it to everyone to be beautiful!” “You’re not a real woman if you don’t look feminine enough!” “Some guy’s dick didn’t get hard when you walked by? Kill yourself, you ugly piece of shit.” “Too many guys’ dicks got hard when you walked by? Kill yourself, you sad whore.”

As some people get more woke/progressive every day, those who oppose them grow more vicious, angry, and reactionary. This process is particularly evident in Russia, where everyone from lawmakers to celebrities is screaming about women’s “traditional role” and how anyone who doesn’t fit this role should be run out of town.

When it comes to Russian domestic policy, Putin and his people are concerned about demographics. Some of those concerns are legitimate, others downright sinister. On a very basic, cynical level – they need women to produce cannon fodder. They’re also worried about Russia’s future territorial integrity.

What’s interesting is how this all works on the personal level. I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again: Russia went through mind-boggling violence and deprivation in the 20th century, and hasn’t dealt with it. The trauma goes deep and is a part of daily life.

Compulsory femininity is one way in which the trauma is expressed. If you read Russian, for example, you’ll love this recent sex column at pro-Kremlin Life News, which talks about how fat people are basically not human, and how a woman’s primary duty is to be hot and ready to get fucked at any moment.

The author, a former reality show contestant, says things like, “My man is hard for me all the time, everywhere” (um, poor guy?) and “It’s better if you don’t say anything to your man – just love him and give him blowjobs” (But what if you are in the woods? And there’s a bear? Do you take the cock out of your mouth long enough to shout “Behind you!”??? So many questions). As for fat people, she won’t even consent to swim in the same pool with them – because ew, gross.

Many Russian commenters have already pointed out the painfully obvious – this celebrity is not exactly famous for her happy personal life. Her hatred of other women is the result of her issues with herself – a profound sadness dressed up as bravado, only the dress doesn’t quite fit (and will be stripped away with time).

You would think that this would be obvious: If you feel the need to shame or hurt someone, chances are, you are projecting. People who are able to connect with others in meaningful ways don’t go out of their way to humiliate others.

In light of this, the blueprint for the “traditional Russian woman” is the following: She is not supposed to be happy. Because she cannot belong to herself. She only exists when she is admired/desired by others. And she must fulfill everyone’s expectations all at once. 

“The traditional Russian woman” must please everyone: Men who like big asses and tiny bubble butts. Men who like dramatic make-up and plunging necklines and men who like torn jeans and a hint of lipgloss. Men who like a woman in heels and men who think a woman in heels looks “like she’s trying too hard.” Men who like a hairless pussy and men who say, “This makes me feel like a pedophile.” Men who say that “real women have curves” and men who go wild for a “coltish-looking Lolita-type.”

This woman runs around pleasing everyone and exhausting herself. If she’s “lucky,” she will net a husband who supports her, a.k.a. a “real man.” Then she’ll still turn fifty, her “real man” will be sleeping with sex-workers and 20-year-old assistants at work – because that’s part of his masculine nature, as plenty of Russian “traditionalists” will tell you – and their mutual friends will say, “Guess she should’ve thought about it before becoming old and useless.”

Continue reading “The humiliation of “real Russian women” – and why conservatives get off on it”

Uppity lady writer wanted bodily autonomy and respect. What happened next will not surprise you!

Uppity lady writer wanted bodily autonomy and respect. What happened next will not surprise you!

Today on Facebook I reposted a powerful essay by my friend Anna Lind-Guzik – the essay deals with sexual harassment and the awful feelings that presidential candidate Donald J. Trump evokes in many of us who know what it’s like to be preyed upon by men. I then posted a picture from a happy day on a nude beach.

The reaction from one of my followers was swift. I am pasting it here in full, without editing a word (for personal and professional reasons, I am omitting this man’s name). I have also written a response, and it is posted below.

Just saw you re-posting a long piece about sexual harasment is bad, and how Donald Trump is a scary man. Then you post a picture of yourself naked on a beach. I thought long and hard about writing a response. Simply put Natalia, I like & respected you for a long time. But when you write “don’t sexually harass me” and pos naked, I have to wonder, just what kind of a double standard you are trying to promote.. ‘Here I am, naked, but don’t grab and harass me’. Because I also follow your (very beautiful) Instagram, I know you also recently posted a picture of yourself with ample cleavage. I like that picture more, the nude beach one is not very flattering though you get bonus point for your nice tummy. I guess the question I have for both pictures is, What is your message? Trying to have it both ways? I like and respect your writing, would it be HARASMENT for me to say that your pictures make me hot and bothered making it difficult to appreciate you? Just thinking out loud and trying to add to the conversation. It seems You want people to vote for Hillary, and you want females to be respected, and then you act like one of those non-credible women that Trump is (I think, baselessly) accused of doing whatever to. It doesn’t make for a very strong message in my opinion. Because of my respect for your dignity I wanted to write this to you in private. But would appreciate your response.

Dear Man on the Internet (I’m leaving your name out of this, mostly out of respect for your family),

I made a rookie mistake. I assumed that my body is my own, and that I can do things that I like with it, and not be punished for it.

Posting about my disdain for harassment AND my love of frolicking on the nude beaches of southern Crete was hypocritical. I want “females to be respected,” after all, but how can I (or any other “female”) demand respect while simultaneously inhabiting a female body and doing what I want with it? These things are mutually exclusive, after all.

You are also absolutely right that it is “baseless” to accuse Donald J. Trump of inappropriate conduct. I mean, what’s the big deal about grabbing someone “by the pussy” and bragging about it? Those women really should have thought about it before leaving the house, pussies in tow.

Coincidentally, Trump’s wife Melania has also posed nude – but that’s OK, because she’s beautiful and, more importantly, married to a rich conman successful businessman. A rigid class hierarchy is an important function of our social order, and if you oppose that, you’re probably a dirty communist.  Continue reading “Uppity lady writer wanted bodily autonomy and respect. What happened next will not surprise you!”

Tragedy uncovered by the Kyiv Post: men have a hard time finding toys… er, women they like in Ukraine! Yuliya Popova investigates this shocking trend

God bless the Kyiv Post. Here we are, waiting for the election exit polls to start rolling in, the weather is sunny, but cold, the dogs that Pan Chernovetskiy has allowed to run unchecked all over this great city are having a ball outside, and most normal people are in bed with a hangover. So what to do with myself on this fine Sunday afternoon? Be amazed.

Now, what’s amazing here is not the fact that such dehumanizing attitudes toward women, any women, exist. What’s amazing is that they are propagated so strongly by women themselves. I bet Yuliya Popova just wants to be one of the guys. Implicit in her statements is the old “dudebros, I feel your pain.” Also implicit in her words is the insistence that she, of course, isn’t anything like the women she derides via the platform generously given to her by the Kyiv Post. “Isn’t it sad about all those cynical whores/unfeminine bitches too focused on their careers? I would cry for the poor men. But it might make my mascara run.”

Come on, Natalia, you are saying to yourself. You’re old enough to know that sexism would never be as widespread if it wasn’t both covertly and overtly supported by women. Why do you always expect better from women such as Popova? Isn’t that its own form of sexism?

Perhaps. Maybe I just can’t get over the fact that Kyiv’s “leading English-language newspaper” keeps “leading” us into deeper and deeper bullshit. Hey, I get their agenda. It gets them attention, it gets a bunch of douchebags to sagely bloviate in the comment section, drives up hits, and drives up hits some more when it gets passed around by people like me. This doesn’t mean that such content sucks any less though.

The eternal question of “but why can’t a nice expat man find an equally nice woman who sucks dick more than once a day and ruminates on Voltaire once she’s wiped the come from her mouth and makes lasagna and profiteroles and never asks for shopping money yet somehow manages to dress like Carla Bruni and is wise beyond her years but always knows her place (whether it be on her back or on top or bent over the washing machine she thoughtfully runs every day so that his shirts are always clean) and has a great education but never makes a man feel as if he is *gasp* not as smart as she is and wants babies but will never expect their father to change a single diaper in his lifetime, nor will inconvenience him by losing her waistline” is a pressing one, to be sure.

I toss and turn at night, trying to find a solution. I have lost weight, concerned as I am by this dilemma. People ask, “Natalia, why do you look like such crap today? And I go, “I’m trying, guys, to solve a problem that’s just a little more serious than national debt and corruption in the public education sector. Give me a break, you insensitive assholes.”

A woman’s greatest achievement is offering herself up to a man, of course. I don’t mean sexually (I’m not about to start knocking sex on this blog), but, to borrow Popova’s own phrase, as a “universal package.” A woman must give her body and her soul, and never forget that she is the lucky one, as opposed to the man, or, really, the demigod in question. If she doesn’t like it, too bad. Ten others will be more than willing to take her place on the trophy shelf tomorrow.

This is all beside the fact that men must choose women. Never the other way around. If you’re not picked out of the line-up, on account of your trashy short skirt or constantly ringing Blackberry or whatever, sorry, sister; resign yourself to bitterness, financial destitution, and banging gross guys you meet at bars in Hydropark until you’re too old even for them, at which point you will die, in some flat in Borschagovka, your feeble cries for help drowned out by the neighbours’ bad rap music.

and she will. alooooooooone!

In this light, Popova’s column is really more akin to a public service announcement: Girls, do something with yourselves before the expat men all move on to raping child prostitutes in Thailand and the local men develop gout and ED just to spite you!

Men can choose to be single, after all. A single man of advancing years is a freedom-loving bachelor. We’d never feel sorry for, say, Jean-Luc Picard, for staying single. A single woman of advancing years, on the other hand, is a dismal hag, who ought to be performing harakiri on Independence Square, as opposed to knitting or babysitting her neighbours’ kids or working or doing whatever it is that single women do when they are no longer out there looking for a man to please. And if young Ukrainian women inspire lust as well as disgust, older Ukrainian women inspire outright disdain, particularly in the expats. Why are they crowding the buses and streets with their no-longer-fuckable bodies? Don’t they know that they are taking up valuable room?

If there is any wisdom that is to be derived from this morass, I think it is the following: everything in life has its price. When I say that, I don’t mean monetary value. I mean the shocking idea that life, in general, is not quite perfect, for anyone. When we are single, we complain about missing intimacy. When we are with someone, we complain about making sacrifices on their behalf.

We say that your typical chauvinist expat man moves to a poorer country to experience a “sexual fantasy,” but the fantasy, I believe, is bigger than that. The fantasy is the idea, the hope, even, that somewhere out there, life doesn’t run according to the rules: that it will be kinder, better, more accommodating. That in this new, exciting world, they will finally be owed. That they will get what they deserve, and nothing less. It is the same fantasy that men of any background, fairly insulated by their superior social position, can afford to entertain about women in general.

“Who are we to break their dream?” Popova seems to be asking. Well, fellow human beings, maybe?

No way, right? No way.

Because I have writer’s block: this one’s for you, Julio Cespedes of Mississippi State

Yeah, douchey columns in college newspapers are a dime a dozen. ONTD, however, highlighted one that is so good, even this man-hater had to put down the gun and check that shit. Basically, some sensitive soul over at Mississippi State watched “G.I. Jane” and subsequently grabbed for the smelling salts. There was violence and graphic language and politics! Demi Moore shaved her head and said “suck my dick”! Well, I never!… Anyway, after getting up off his fainting couch, our hero vented his confusion to the universe, and here are the choice bits:

Extreme feminism tells us women are the same as men.

You mean like, how it talks about how both women and men are human beings? Extreme, bro.

We can talk about equal opportunity all we want, but does anybody really believe that it’s a victory for women to submit themselves to a system which reveres manhood (equaling physical strength and courage and the right to say that infamous three-word phrase which I can not even put into print)?

Well, gee. Last time I pried my ass off the chair and away from the desk I am currently chained to and took a look at the outside world, I was struck by a shocking revelation: manhood is revered in general on this planet. Who owns the vast percentage of the world’s wealth? Who runs the vast percentage of the world’s countries? Who coined the phrase “big swinging dick” as a symbol of authority? Who decides shit around here?

Every single one of us exists within a system that “reveres manhood,” women in the military just tend to have it a helluva a lot tougher, because, aside from the demands placed upon them, their presence is a direct challenge to the status quo. And yet you have the (gendered terminology alert!) balls to ask whether or not they want to be in the game in the first place? Why ever would you think that any of these women owe you an explanation? Wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that you’re an entitled jackass now, would it?

It is time for post-feminism – a movement which will recognize the equality of women to men, but one which will also realize their differences.

In other words: But you have boobies and stuff! I want access to the boobies without having to worry about some female cadet kicking my ass!

there is no denying women have an incredible gift that a measly, maggot man will never have

Now isn’t this sweet? It’s a bit like those passive aggressive people who say things like, “it’s not you, it’s me,” and stare down into their beer mugs with a soulful expression you want to smack right off their faces. He’s not sexist, ladies! Why, he humbles himself before your mysterious lady-parts! He humbles himself so much, that he feels the need to remind you that you, you know, have them, ’cause you never know, your addled lady brain might forget!

You are a measly maggot, Julio, just not for the reasons you imagine.

Human life can literally flourish in your womb, can feed on your own body and because of that, you will have a connection to life on a level that I will never understand.

Neither will you ever understand how a world where manhood is revered pretty much punishes women daily for producing said human life while cloaking said punishment in rhetoric about the mystical beauty of motherhood [not that motherhood isn’t beautiful, but let’s not pretend as though said beauty isn’t used against women as a way to get them to shut up and sit down]. I mean, one can hope, but I’m not holding my breath.

Forgive me for wanting to protect you, forgive me for being a gentleman and opening the door for your, forgive me for allowing you to make me “weaker,” forgive me for holding you to a higher standard you sometimes view as “oppression.”

Oh, like the higher standard that allows guys like you to high-five their dudebros upon getting laid, while the girl in the situation gets stuck with the label of “skank”? The higher standard that somehow makes you, a college senior who doesn’t have an freaking career yet, think you’re qualified to dispense wisdom on the military careers of women? That higher standard?

I know, I know. You want to bake a cake with rainbows. You just have a lot of feelings. You would shed tears, but you’re just way too manly.

Here’s what Robin Hood thinks of these shenanigans: