What do you have to complain about?

What do you have to complain about?

You are a man, and that means you are a privileged snob that rolls in the mud of female suffering like the happy hog you are. What do you have to complain about?

What indeed.

It is true that there are MRAs that live good lives, including myself. After my folks split up when I was eight, I grew up under my single feminist mother. She spoiled me rotten and I acted the part. The cops knew me since I would pretend to threaten suicide in middle school to avoid homework. Taking psychiatric pills to address my Asperger’s Syndrome and Tourettes did not really rectify the situation. By fourteen, I weighed 280 pounds (127 kg) and was hopped up on Ambien, Depakote, Abilify, Seroquel, Geodon, Risperdal, Prozac and Zanax.

I once saw an old man’s face in the wall and threw pizza at it.

Once I turned sixteen, my mother gave up and tossed me to my father, who threw the meds away and taught me real discipline while I went cold turkey. The transition was akin to being thrown in a big dryer containing a running woodchipper. My pseudo-pride was crushed into oblivion by a man with 63-years of experience in dealing with bullshit. In the years following, I lost 100 pounds, stopped taking all of the meds, earned several scholarships, got listed in USA Today, the Mississippi Business Journal, a Phi Theta Kappa press release due to my design for a Mars mission, and started my own business. And that’s just to name a few examples. I apologize for tooting my own horn, but it is important to understand that my opportunities came from learning harsh life lessons that feminists are not being taught.

The radical change required me to accept I was not hot shit, and that I did not deserve what I had. Those simple lessons contributed to the humility that was central to my growth, and I would never dare forget that. I have a wonderful life now. So, why am I a MRA? What do I have to “complain” about?

There are three things that stick out: One, when I see a spoiled woman get political about minor inconveniences in her awesome life, I get nauseous. I know from firsthand experience how rotten a person has to be to accept no personal responsibility. Two, I notice these women seem to be taken seriously despite their avarice as long as they brand themselves as feminists. Three, I get insulted when one of these feminists turn around and suggest that my good life came from being male.

Let me make this perfectly clear. My good life came from wonderful people who wanted to make it good. My problem was that I did not appreciate them, and I did not appreciate myself in the right way. The prestige and skills I have today came from hard work and from accepting that my life is my responsibility. I won’t say that I did it all myself, because that’s bullshit, but I did have to initiate my own climb out of a hole I threw myself into. My friends and family tossed me a rope but I had to choose to climb it and prepare to grovel on the way up. This situation revolved around attitude, not anatomy.

What I did is what feminists must do now.

I am watching spoiled people who are a lot older than me calling for my destruction. It is like looking back in time. I am watching what I once was try to destroy me for what I currently am.

Let me put it this way. The projections, the narcissism, the entitlement and the hatred all boil down to the same subconscious self-loathing that made me never trust my own initiative. The same self-loathing that told me that I never have it good enough, even when people were slaving to show me otherwise.

I am “complaining” about the feminists who are telling women that their lives are never good enough in a society when there is an ocean of money available to them. I’m seeing a duck with a monocle sitting atop a pyramid of gold coins in a vault where only some have the key.

If the money is not an indicator of privilege, what about female political representation? To augment my assertion clearer, the following is not to be read closely as such but illuminates when seen as a dark block of ink from twenty feet away.

A General Federation of Women’s Clubs, a Violence Against Women Act, a National Organization for Women, a National Women’s Law Center, a Hot Gamer Girls club, a Global Network of Women’s Shelters, a Women in Science International League, a Council of Women World Leaders, an International Council of Jewish Women, an International Women’s Department, a Women Achievers Association, a P.E.O. Sisterhood, a Relief Society, a Third World Organization for Women in Science, UNIFEM, a Woman’s Christian Temperance Union, a Women’s Commission For Refugee Women and Children, a Women’s Environment & Development Organization, a Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom, an International Federation of Business and Professional Women, an International Federation of University Women, a Women’s International Zionist Organization, a World Association of Girl Guides and Girl Scouts, a Young Women’s Christian Association, an American Association for Women Radiologists, an American Association of University Women, an American Heritage Girls, an American Woman Suffrage Association, an Association of Women Professionals, an Association for Women in Science, a Big Sisters, a Business and Professional Women, a Concerned Women for America, a Commercial Real Estate Women, a Daughters of the American Revolution, a Daughters of Utah Pioneers, an Equal Rights Advocates, Feminists for Life, a Feminist Majority Foundation, a General Federation of Women’s Clubs (“hey, we need a club of clubs now!”), a Girl Scouts of the United States of America, a League of Women Voters, Mommy Mentors, a National American Woman Suffrage Association, a National Association of Female Professionals, a National Association of University Women, a National Council of Jewish Women, a National Federation of Republican Women, a National Woman Suffrage Association, a National Women’s Political Caucus, a Refugee Women’s Network, Women of Visionary Influence, a Woman’s Christian Temperance Union, a Women’s Bowling Congress, a Woman’s Missionary Union, a Women Open Network, a U.S. Women’s Chamber of Commerce, a Women’s Commission for Refugee Women and Children, a Younger Women’s Task Force, a Women In Prison and a Women’s WorldWide Web.

You can walk back to the monitor now.

What do I have to “complain” about? How about the people who are blind to how good they have it? How about the fact that these people are actually taken seriously?

My question to feminists is:

What do you have to complain about? On top of the basic human rights of suffrage, free (hate) speech and ability to choose your own path among the options available to you, you demand courtly love, an exercising of the power to demonize half of the human race for disagreeing with you and a calling upon a wealth of political and legal authorities who are ready to listen. Are you listening when I am saying “I have checked my privilege, and am getting zip”?

The jury has been out. The discrimination-oriented pay gap is a myth. “The Patriarchy” is a myth. Men die for you more than you die for them. Men have willingly surrendered power to you, and believe me, if we were the totalitarian, chauvinistic fucks you say we are, then you would not have made even an inch of progress. Whenever you doubt your political representation, refer to the above list and remind yourself that you are pretty loved.

But what does that matter? You aren’t happy anyway. Of course not! Spoiled children are never happy. When you are spoiled, you choose to leave the realm of reason and adopt the most primitive form of parasitic hedonism. Instead of improving yourself and earning what you work for, you adapt new methods of manipulation to hoard more and more.

Don’t believe me? Think I’m the next blind soul who refuses to see my privilege? That is where you are wrong. The difference between you and me is that I have gratitude. In your refusal to see your privilege, I am watching you lower yourself into your own hole. There will come a sad day when you realize you need to get yourself out, and only the people you alienated are the ones able to toss down the rope. It is a good thing you had so much practice shouting for what you want since it might be hard to hear you from all the way up here. I hope you can hear me when I shout down to you just five words:

“HELP-ME-FIND-MY-PRIVILEGE.”

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