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Having been offline for a few days, I nearly missed this.
I’ve read people eloquent/analytical/intelligent posts. I *get* the anger, discomfort and feminist!rage, believe me. It’s just that in this instance, I can’t quite share in those feelings because I can’t get over how pathetic the whole thing is. Very much in the vein of “Watch me attempt to use Big Words and Pseudointellectual Arguments to justify my secret desire to have a RL Hugh Hefner experience.”
Seriously, this is the demographic that casting Sci-Fi babes in catsuits panders to. Have those ‘men’ ever actually been around a real, flesh and blood women outside a convention setting? And if so, how have they avoided being maced/beaten up/ torn limb from limb by an angry mob?
Bless. Perpetuating the “Geek men can never get even a little bit of sex” stereotype.
But before I go, three semi-serious points:
-There’s nothing radical or remotely original about the idea of men taking liberties with various body parts of female complete strangers. It’s happened to me a few times this year alone, and amazingly enough? It hasn’t showed me how Special And Incredible my body is or gotten me in touch with the source of my feminine power or some shit. It has gotten me in touch with the part of me that’s prone to unexpected violence and swearing like a sailor though, so that’s something.
-Others have pointed it out, but it cannot be said enough: a women acquiescing to a bigass crowd asking to fondle her tits does NOT equal consent! To illustrate with a personal anecdote, I once had the dubious pleasure to have my bottom patted by no fewer than 20 football fans coming out a game. The fact that I acted oblivious instead of cursing them out/hitting them over the head with my book-packed bag didn’t mean I wasn’t shaking with rage or secretely ‘flattered’ at their appreciation of my rear end or whatever. It only means that I let my self-preservation instinct at the face of a fucking mob quash all other impulses.
-And on that note, said crowd was mostly comprised of pimply teenagers that I know wouldn’t have attempted that shit had any of them run into me by themselves in the street, but were emboldened by the numbers, alcohol and testosterone and mob mentality. If you truly think that your little groups of emotionally stunted horny geeks going around on their breast-fondling mission won’t get ‘out of hand’, you’re not only as clueless about female psyche as you’ve aptly demonstrated, you’re also clueless about men.
I’ve read people eloquent/analytical/intelligent posts. I *get* the anger, discomfort and feminist!rage, believe me. It’s just that in this instance, I can’t quite share in those feelings because I can’t get over how pathetic the whole thing is. Very much in the vein of “Watch me attempt to use Big Words and Pseudointellectual Arguments to justify my secret desire to have a RL Hugh Hefner experience.”
Seriously, this is the demographic that casting Sci-Fi babes in catsuits panders to. Have those ‘men’ ever actually been around a real, flesh and blood women outside a convention setting? And if so, how have they avoided being maced/beaten up/ torn limb from limb by an angry mob?
Bless. Perpetuating the “Geek men can never get even a little bit of sex” stereotype.
But before I go, three semi-serious points:
-There’s nothing radical or remotely original about the idea of men taking liberties with various body parts of female complete strangers. It’s happened to me a few times this year alone, and amazingly enough? It hasn’t showed me how Special And Incredible my body is or gotten me in touch with the source of my feminine power or some shit. It has gotten me in touch with the part of me that’s prone to unexpected violence and swearing like a sailor though, so that’s something.
-Others have pointed it out, but it cannot be said enough: a women acquiescing to a bigass crowd asking to fondle her tits does NOT equal consent! To illustrate with a personal anecdote, I once had the dubious pleasure to have my bottom patted by no fewer than 20 football fans coming out a game. The fact that I acted oblivious instead of cursing them out/hitting them over the head with my book-packed bag didn’t mean I wasn’t shaking with rage or secretely ‘flattered’ at their appreciation of my rear end or whatever. It only means that I let my self-preservation instinct at the face of a fucking mob quash all other impulses.
-And on that note, said crowd was mostly comprised of pimply teenagers that I know wouldn’t have attempted that shit had any of them run into me by themselves in the street, but were emboldened by the numbers, alcohol and testosterone and mob mentality. If you truly think that your little groups of emotionally stunted horny geeks going around on their breast-fondling mission won’t get ‘out of hand’, you’re not only as clueless about female psyche as you’ve aptly demonstrated, you’re also clueless about men.
