I was looking forward to Easter again and oh, the chocolate fuelled joy of childhood. This joy came to an end at that time because of something I witnessed at just six years old.
In the kitchen I saw my dad through a crack in the kitchen door and he was putting out carrots for the Easter Bunny. But hold on a minute, why was he grating the carrots and sprinkling them in a line across the kitchen floor towards our back door? Something was up and I sensed it in an unfocused way.
It was unbelievable, my six year old mind could barely compute the enormity this deception. My entire life I’d been lied to. Every Easter had been a fib. If they were willing to lie to me about this, well, what else were they covering up?
Ok what about Christmas? Surely not? A fat jolly old man that delivers toys to every child in the world in one night is infinitely more plausible than a rabbit who delivers chocolate eggs. Rabbits don’t have thumbs and aren’t tall enough to open a door, so what other lies was I being told by my parents? What other whoppers would I discover out there in the big wide world?
Fast forward to the 90’s and on a TV set I saw what I thought was a humorous news story about a Men’s Movement.
The forgettable presenter of a forgotten current affairs programme sniggered at the story and openly at the men.
“What have Men got to complain about?” “We’ve got it all!”
Right before my eyes I saw some men hunched around an fire beating bongo drums. Yes, I was astounded to see them chanting but more than that I was saddened. Depressed even, and thinking that this was quite mad.
“Men have come farther than that surely?” I thought, “Is that what I need to do to be a real man? Immersed in an ignorance wrapped by my youth the truth of this news story eluded me of course.
I cannot forget those dreadful drums and the fools that pawed them.
Over the years I had sipped the fresh and liberating waters of feminism but had never finished a glass. The product is so superbly presented that its siren call had me come off second best I am afraid. Not only that, but I didn’t even know I was drinking it most of the time, but I got wiser when the water began to stagnate. Its after-taste was not something I wanted or indeed expected.
In the seventeen years after the bongo (and pig fat) incident I had lived with and loved different women and managed to escape with my sanity, my belongings and my money.
There was luck and a lot of cunning on my side. I kept going back to relationships because that’s what you did, and I was keen to learn from my mistakes and make it work with a woman, the right woman. I was looking for Miss Right to be my equal partner in a relationship because that’s what women and Men were, they were equal. Right?
Equal for sure, but why all the tears and tantrums? Isn’t this what little kids do? I always thought it odd that only children and women cry. The tears of a woman over a trivial matter have always strengthened my resolve to not be manipulated. I’ve always said of myself “ I’m amiable, but not malleable!”
Now I am no marrying type and have no paternal instinct, and I’m always amazed to see it in others. For me there is an upshot and it’s about babies.
When I think babies I think of orphanages. Why make your own little human when you can find one that really needs a home? I now know it’s a major thing to make a miniature person to end up being an amazing thing.
One day earlier this year I read an article on the website of a regional tabloid here in my city. The article was about a barrage of posters going up on poles and walls at a big University. Something evil was going on that’s for sure. This story sounded delicious and I wanted more.
Surely it was a comedy piece. “We believe in free speech, but we’re going to take down the posters” said a head that spoke from that big university.
It made me remember the excrement that oozed from the Radical Feminist posters that were plastered everywhere in my University days. I thought “It’s about time Men fought back.”
It made me recall the men beating those drums in the night, “Shit those guys were kinda right on some stuff!” Lose the bongos (they don’t do it for me) and I see now that they got the bit about the need for a Men’s Movement.
So my next stop is at avoiceformen.com. Once there, I looked about for the bongos and the blokes “jacking off” around the fire. Nope, none here and what a damned relief I can tell you.
For some time I lurked here at AVfM and I was so new I didn’t even know what I didn’t know. I read as much as I possibly could and after a few days I had read a vast number of the existing articles and was now waiting for some new ones. I then visited the other MRA sites linked to AVFM and I found them informative, although some do nothing for the cause they purportedly support.
What was being said struck me and it was being said by men and women. Women at AVFM? I couldn’t believe they were vocal here. What was their true motivation?
I was suspicious to say the least but now I know better. These were simply women who had unmasked the great scam of feminism before me and before I had figured it out. It was just a matter of different timing is all.
Now I began to realise that I had lived my adult life unaware of how the odds were being quietly stacked against me in the name of equality. Women and Men were writing articles and making videos enlightening me of this fact at AVfM.
It left me dumbstruck when I first heard Women talking honestly about the pitiful state of our society. “Fuck, they see it, it’s not just a group paranoid Men raving away in cyberspace whilst beating drums!” “This shit is for real.” The vague thoughts I’d had over the years about such matters were based on something that was actually real after all.
Having been led to believe all these by the media and society that I needed to atone for my sins against women. I’ve never beaten or raped anyone but I’ve loudly defended myself verbally so does that count? In fact, what the hell were my sins now I thought about it. Show me my sins.
How was this atonement to be achieved, by making it equal that’s how. Let’s cut women slack and let them change a flat tire, walk on the outside of the footpath, carry heavy things, open jars and kill moths. I was aware of the double standards to this “equality” but it was just in the periphery of my awareness only.
The enormity of learning more about how I had been ripped off by the F-Scam depressed me for a day or two. I didn’t venture back to AVfM for that time.
I was disorientated and in an eerie and unfamiliar landscape. I wished I had a bongo drum to beat as this would have made me feel better. Something was affecting my mind and my vision.
Then I started reading the comments made by AVfM and I read them slowly and carefully. By this stage I had run out of recent articles to read and I wanted up-to-the-minute information on new victories against this war. I was too hungry perhaps?
Within the articles and comments there was humour, sadness, empathy and camaraderie. I cried laughing and cried a tear reading about the lives of others and the life destroying family justice system. Where were the comments about the joys of beating drums and rolling around in moss and taking a dump in a hollowed gum tree stump?
The resolve of the people who contribute, comment and share their lives at AVfM constantly amazes me. The next thing I did was register at AVfM and I left a few comments here and there. I felt awe for the people who contributed articles and their grasp of the subject material was inspiring, not to mention it was formidable.
What I learned was that there is a war going on that wasn’t being televised or published in any newspaper? It made me think, “How unbalanced do things have to become before the average person notices?” What was going on? Was this another version of Santa and that rabbit but this time for adults?
The next thing I saw appear was the AVFM forum. I registered there and contacted a local MRA who was a regular contributor of humorous and incisive articles and illustrations.
He was generous with his time, patience, knowledge and encouragement. I thought about what I could offer in return, to contribute something that I can do? I leapt at the chance to assist with realising a creative idea for an AVfM project.
He kindly introduced me to the VOIP system and so on to other AVfM contributors. Once again I was met with warm camaraderie. I came up with a few ideas for some posters that I’ve submitted for review. I’ve also given some minor assistance with realising some design concepts for other MRA’s.
You creepy, kitten blending, basement dwelling folks of both sexes just happen to be the friendliest people I’ve never actually met. The best thing is that there seems to be more of you everyday. Quite frankly, I want to meet you.
It’s strange how the more I read at AVfM the clearer my vision gets and the louder my voice has become. From bongos to red pills I think we’ve made quite the jump, don’t you?
