I had a Eureka moment when I read the SCUM manifesto’s scathing statement about the mind-numbing tedium of life in a man’s world. It’s something I have been tormented by since childhood. Despite possessing intellectual pursuits, friends, pets, cross-cultural connections, media analysis & inclusion in fandoms – the tedium and repression’s been unshakable. Valerie’s incisive indictment of malestream content we’re bombarded with daily ~ is just as accurate as it was in her pre-information age. These days we’re surrounded with the grand illusion of stimulation, which is intrusive and oppressive like in the 1984 dystopia. Flashy gadgets are everywhere, but their content is just as rooted in the shallow male foreground (as per Daly), with an addictive gloss on the surface.
Former Aussie comedian Hannah Gadsby has a heart-wrenching recording on Netflix called Nannete. In it she tragi-comically describes what it was like to study art history from a female POV: pics of women either lolling about in forests naked or acting the part of Christmas trees. She also destroys the myth of the male genius eg. Picasso. #Highly recommended viewing for all serious feminists.
As a brainy & passionate youngster in my pre-radfem days I spun my mind in Figure 8 ways just to juice a little meaning and kernels of aesthetic value > to sustain myself in the arid desert of dude-produced drivel. I would force myself to sit through vile woman-hatred, violence & nihilism ALL BECAUSE the male-as-default culture convinced that I was missing something terribly important in the so-called
works of art. It never worked: whatever pleasure I could squeeze out of this garbage was obtained on the margins and was unintentional.
There’s a special chapter in this story dedicated to that gigantic cretin incessantly praised and elevated into the ‘genius of geniuses’ category by Hollyweird dudes – Marlon Brando. With my usual seriousness & absolute absorption I spent years on IMDb arguing vehemently with Brando fanboys about his BS status as the “father of modern acting”. This Very Special Dude Marlon TM delivered all of 1 above-board performance playing himself *Streetcar)…and then spent the rest of his vampiric existence sucking the life out of everyone around him. He was also a champion rapist, producing a 2-digit no. of progeny. Even when setting all this baggage aside – he was REPULSIVE in his screen presence despite his initial baby face and stole the opportunities of far more talented & professional actresses.
What men so misleadingly call “art” is nothing but a really revealing portrait of themselves. Males get VERY upset when you tear down their idiot I
dols because then you get at their core of talentless and emptiness. They start frothing at the mouth. I encountered this phenomenon again last year, when I attempted watching the unwatchable revival of my beloved Twin Peaks. The new installment was bare naked Emperor’s New Suit built on Lynch’s “special male genius” name recognition. The project was a cruel swindle on TP fans, actors and Showtime. Not only was it a
worthless turd which destroyed everything good about the original, but it also made me realise that
males don’t care about artistic & entertainment quality or integrity
There were 2 welcome breaks in this stream of wanking nonsense: films Onegin and The Piano. Both had a female sensibility stamped all over them. Onegin is an indie directed by Ralph Fiennes’ sister.
*This post is unfinished as there is no language we have at our disposal to describe what a genuinely female artistic product feels like. It’s that quality invoked by distinct female indie musicians. Help me out here, sisters :=)