I Hate Men
I hate men and I'm embarrassed to be one. I get nauseous at the sight of swaggering macho dudes touting their father's fantasies, encouraged by swooning plastic bimbos to act the part of the warrior/cowboy/gangster/Nazi. I look in their shallow eyes and see emptiness.
The macho among us have lent no serious thought to the implications of their message: where might makes right, violence rules eternal. World wars were waged on testosterone.
Gay guys are the only males I can stand, though I can't respect them, due to the fact that they like men, which I can't understand.
Of course, I generalize. And, of course, I'm talking about "masculinity," not "men;" and not even "masculinity" proper, but our bastardized societal conception of masculinity.
The American Male is conditioned to display aggression, suppress emotion -- in short, to be an asshole.
On the same note, I don't like women either. That is, I don't dig the feminine polarity of gender role-playing inasmuch as it gives credence to men's bullethead-macho ego. Behind every cheesy cafeteria brawl there's a fluffy-headed female cheering on and swooning over the chivalric display of masculine aggression.
To put this in the structuralist sociological perspective, what we have here is a mass gender-identity crisis. With the breakdown of traditional gender roles, a symptom of a free-market economy (it is an economic necessity in our time that every able-bodied individual be a source of income, thus the 1970's influx of women into the marketplace), the result is an exaggerated display of gender role cliche as the populace seeks to forge a gender-identity in this otherwise "equal" system.. The inevitable backlash is a polarization of gender issues, first noted in the "Women's Movement," then the "Men's Movement," and on into New Age gender-specific religions justifying their separatism with proposals that there are two "Godheads," one for the male, one for the female, and true psychic union between the two is impossible.
Add to this mix the ubiquitous advertising agencies preying on gender-specific target audiences with invented images of rugged, rough cowboys and soft, spongy cheesecake girls and you end up with a new creature: the Sex Bigot.
The Sex Bigot zealously acts out his/her assigned gender role, attempting to suppress and destroy all those who don't.
When a couple of assholes play Smear the Queer in Wyoming, they are attempting to exorcise their inner fears that they, too, may not be the cowboys they think they are, but may accidentally display a true personality (scary!) and real emotions (scarier!) like this queer kid did. So they kill him. Trying to kill the idea of him.
Funny thing about hate. The thing hate hates is the absence of hate. And hate will kill to keep that from happening.
Anyway, Atlanta's going to the Superbowl. I don't care. Football players are assholes.
One thing I know: when we close our eyes at night we all see the same thing. Regardless of what's between our legs.
We're the same. Act like it.