We the modern people, in order to feel like our lives of commute-work-consume-sleep are more meaningful, would like to rage in our cages against things that are non-issues.
Brave modern people will do this in order to make ourselves feel like we are not just mundane unexceptional people, but brave crusaders for something of great meaning, like the poignant sayings of Hallmark cards or the bittersweet emotional crash of a good pop chorus. We want to feel alive.
Naturally, we aren’t rebelling against anything important. We don’t want to break the cages; just rattle them. And that’s permitted. Anything is permitted except that which will break the cage. Conveniently, others have told us what to think in this regard, and what is ignorant, and we don’t want to be that.
As a result, there’s only one way to go: down. We want to introduce more divisions, fracture more relationships, and demand more rights in an absolute context so there’s no reasoning with us, just conflicting needs and no resolution in sight.
While we do this, industry and government chortle on like the good parasites they are, laughing that a few hundred million to academia, hollywood and the record industry bought them such a neurotic and thus obedient population:
SlutWalk started, of course, with poor Michael Sanguinetti, the Toronto cop who now goes down in the annals of feminist history (â€œDaddy, tell me again how you ended up in the Ms. Magazine Hall of Shame?â€) because he suggested that women could avoid being raped if they stopped â€œdressing like sluts.â€
Faster than you could tweet â€œwearing this dress doesnâ€™t mean yes,â€ a movement was born, with young women, some dressed in lace bustiers, tight skirts and fishnets, taking to the streets, first in Toronto, and now all over the United States and in the U.K., loudly protesting this blame-the-victim attitude.
Their stated goal â€“ apart from having a whacking good time, which is also what street level activism is about â€“ was to reclaim the word â€œslutâ€ for themselves. – The Globe and Mail
Was this an unintentional list of 1990s cliches?
I have a better suggestion: let’s put you all on planes, take you out of your comfortable first world rattling cages, and fly you to the Democratic Republic of Congo:
At least 400,000 women were raped in Democratic Republic of Congo over a 12-month period in 2006 and 2007, according to an American Journal of Public Health study that shows the problem of sexual assault is not confined to the restive east.
The study, based on a 2007 nationwide survey of 3,436 women between the ages of 15 and 49, estimates that more than 1.7 million Congolese women have been raped in their lifetime and at least 3 million more have been raped by an intimate partner. – SFG
It’s very well and easy to leave your first-world apartment (secured for you by others who did not have a sense of victimhood), walk down your heavily policed streets, and like a trust fund brat yell and scream at the people who protect you (cops) while demanding irrational and absolute “rights” that you have not earned.
Cages rattle. When you tire of that, you can turn to the other people in cages and tell them how smart and unique, innovative and defiant, brave and bold, reclaimy and whacking good time-y, and savvy, you are. They will then rattle their cages in sympathy and throw feces at the zookeeper. But soon they will tire also and hey, when is dinner? If someone did not bring it to us, we would starve.
If the Slutwalkers(tm) are really as good as their word, they won’t object to a thing I’ve said. In fact, all we’ll hear is the sound of 10,000 iPhones being whipped out of brassieres so they can be used to book flights to the Congo. The army of the righteous will leave their cages, and descend into nature’s fury, and they’ll make it all clean and morally right for the rest of us.