Feminist Body Snatchers
Naturally, I thought of how this is analogous to how mind parasites operate in the system of consciousness. First, how do we define mental health and illness? It seems especially important to define the former, or else we'll have no reliable way to gauge the latter. Importantly, we cannot just equate mental illness with "pain," for much psychological pain is healthy and adaptive, while a great deal of mental illness revolves around the inability to tolerate one's pain.
This inevitably leads to an inability to tolerate meaningful pleasure either, for primitive defense mechanisms aren't that discrete. They aren't like "smart bombs" that limit collateral damage. Rather, they're much more analogous to, say, amputating your foot to get rid of a hangnail. It will work, but you will be left with a part of yourself missing. And then, just like an amputee, you will begin to experience "phantom pain" where your limb used to be. There will be pain, but you won't know where it's coming from. As a result, you will do all kinds of dysfunctional things to rid yourself of the pain.
I was reminded of this in reading an article by a formerly promiscuous woman who had bought into the feminist ideology skank, whine and hooker, thus doing untold damage to her feminine nature without even knowing it. For feminism (there are some more traditionalist exceptions, but they are in the minority) is the bizarre ideology that teaches that feminine nature does not exist. As such, it is not so much an ideology as a defense against femininity. For whatever tangled developmental reason, femininity is equated with passivity or powerlessness -- even masochism -- so it must be amputated. As such, radical feminism is the disease it purports to cure.
But in the long run, this won't stop the pain. Rather it will merely increase it, often causing irreversible existential damage, such as in a Barbara Boxer, whose recent vile comments to Condoleezza Rice reveal a soul so depraved by feminism that I am embarassed to live in a state she represents. It's like having Maureen Dowd as a mother, if such an absurdity can be imagined -- a prototypical Woman Without Breasts if ever there was one. That's going to be one hungry baby! (But not as hungry as her internal baby, which never stops crying, column after column.)
This article, by Dawn Eden, is entitled Casual Sex is a Con: Women Just Aren't Like Men. It is a sign of the stupidity of our times that what was once common sense has been successfully driven to the fringes by leftists who deny (and therefore amputate) our divine-human nature in order to recreate a new and improved human being, which is always more or less a monster. But only literally. I am quite sure I have readers who, like me, when they see a Barbara Boxer, "see" a monster with their coon vision. Obviously this is quite distinct from the left, which projects their own inner monstrousness into the right. But only habitually. Here, I'll show you the difference.
Eden recounts her own quasi-groupie past, during which time she behaved as if her sexual nature were no different than a man's. Of course, in order to imbibe the feminist ideology in a big way (as opposed to merely dabbling with it in the manner in which adolescents experiment with different identities), one must be damaged to begin with -- there must be fertile soil for the virus to take root. In order to be healthy, one must ideally have a model of mature femininity and of mature masculinity bonded to one another in a harmonious, loving, and complementary way.
In Eden's case, she had anything but. As she describes it, her earliest attitude toward sex was very much influenced by what she observed in the life of her loser mother, "a free spirit who was desperately trying to make up missing out on the hippie era." Her parents had separated when she was just five, and her father is described as a decent but essentially weak man who "didn’t want to seem prudish and was clearly uncomfortable setting down rules for a daughter he rarely saw. He almost never talked to me about sex. It was simply understood that I would have sex when I was ready -- whether married or not."
Thus, growing up, she had "little concept of the meaning of sex and marriage." This is the void where the lie of feminism takes root and flourishes, for "like millions of other girls," she internalized the "misguided, hedonistic philosophy which urges young women into this kind of behaviour..." While it "harms both men and women," it is "particularly damaging to women, as it pressures them to subvert their deepest emotional desires."
Eden notes the truism that "The champions of the sexual revolution are cynical. They know in their tin hearts that casual sex doesn’t make women happy. That’s why they feel the need continually to promote it." Only now, at 37, does she comprehend the damage she did to herself: "I sacrificed what should have been the best years of my life for the black lie of free love. All the sex I ever had — and I had more than my fair share — far from bringing me the lasting relationship I sought, only made marriage a more distant prospect."
Now that is a critical point: They know in their tin hearts that casual sex doesn’t make women happy. That’s why they feel the need continually to promote it. I would not say that radical feminists consciously understand this, for mind parasites operate unconsciously. Like any other virus, once they take over the host, they reproduce themselves and "spread" to others. The parasite is not alive, but it "borrows," so to speak, from life, and wishes to "go on being," as does any living entity.
This is what explains the odd persistence of the irrational and discredited mind parasites of the left. In order to eradicate them, one must first comprehend the nature of the host! As the host becomes healthy and aligns itself with truth, the internal environment is no longer conducive to the presence of the mind parasite. But so long as the person has a compromised immune system, there will always be fertile soil for the parasite, no matter how many times it is defeated. For viruses don't really die, since they were never really alive. They just become dormant, or lodge into new hosts, or adapt to changing environments by mutating and manifesting in a new way -- the way Marxism mutated into multiculturalism or radical environmentalism. Truly, "the left will always be with us," just like polio or chicken pox.
Which is why, when I think of academia, the image of "body snatchers" always arises -- infected people trying to infect the next generation so that they can continue to feel "normal," even "superior." Imagine the pain one would have to endure at the conclusion of a long academonic career to realize one had spent one's life not educating, but abusing children and propagating illness. Not many have the courage to face this, thus the well-known phenomenon of the "tenured radical" who hasn't taken a new cognitive imprint since 1968. For naturally, the mind parasites do not technically enter the stream of time. Rather, they are a self-renewing "limit cycle," entirely circular and immune to outside influence. They are "deadness come to life."
I had never heard of this Dawn Eden person, but she has obviously become a controversial figure in the angry feminist world, in the sense that my sinus infection regards the antibiotics I am taking as "controversial." Here's one, pulled at random (it was the first that came up), entitled Dawn Eden: Nasty Little Piece of Work. Check out the coarse, hostile, and bitter tone of defensiveness expressed toward "our favorite little judgmental godbag":
"Her whole rationale for becoming chaste was that she wasn’t getting what she wanted -- marriage -- out of fucking drummers and hoping that her technique would result in a ring." "Dawn’s problem, as ever, is that she’s universalizing her own neuroses and damage and prescribing rules for everyone else based on what didn’t work for her... [H]er friendships were unsatisfying when she was desperately trying to get the men she fucked to love her, and it means that nobody can have satisfying friendships unless they’re chaste. Her desperately trying to get the men she fucked to love her and marry her didn’t result in a ring, so nobody can possibly find love and marriage if they’re not chaste..."
Now, I don't doubt that Ms. Eden is likely as neurotic as before. I am not saying that her attitude toward sexuality is without flaws, or that it represents my attitude. However, the difference between her and the unreflective feminists who are so angry with her is that she has some insight into her ideological mind parasites and is trying to prevent them from dominating and ruining her life. Therefore, it is not quite accurate to say that she is "universalizing her own neuroses and damage and prescribing rules for everyone else based on what didn’t work for her." Rather, this is specifically what feminists do. It is the entire basis of their project.
I would say that Eden has sensed certain universal truths about sexuality which she is still pursuing in a somewhat unavoidably neurotic way. She is probably too damaged to harmoniously align herself with the truths she has discovered, at least at this point in her life. This will have to await the establishment of truly healing relationships -- both vertical and horizontal -- so that the truth may be lived and assimilated and the soul may grow to maturity.
I am also reminded of this article that appeared in the NY Times last month, What’s Wrong With Cinderella?:
"I finally came unhinged in the dentist’s office... where I’d taken my 3-year-old daughter for her first exam. Until then, I’d held my tongue. I’d smiled politely every time the supermarket-checkout clerk greeted her with 'Hi, Princess'; ignored the waitress at our local breakfast joint who called the funny-face pancakes she ordered her 'princess meal'; made no comment when the lady at Longs Drugs said, 'I bet I know your favorite color' and handed her a pink balloon rather than letting her choose for herself. Maybe it was the dentist’s Betty Boop inflection that got to me, but when she pointed to the exam chair and said, 'Would you like to sit in my special princess throne so I can sparkle your teeth?' I lost it.
"'Oh, for God’s sake,' I snapped. 'Do you have a princess drill, too?'
"She stared at me as if I were an evil stepmother.
"'Come on!' I continued, my voice rising. 'It’s 2006, not 1950. This is Berkeley, Calif. Does every little girl really have to be a princess?'
"My daughter, who was reaching for a Cinderella sticker, looked back and forth between us. 'Why are you so mad, Mama?' she asked. 'What’s wrong with princesses?'"