Welcome To The Bitchery
Welcome To The Bitchery
This is a platform for User Generated Content. G/O Media assumes no liability for content posted by Kinja users to this platform.

A Love Letter. (Or, On Kicking MRA's Butts.)

Dear Hivemind,

sorry I never show up anymore. I do think about you. Today, at work, I noticed a coworker posted to Facebook a video of a woman giving a TED talk about the objectification of women. Then I noticed a plethora of comments on how that was stupid and how this discussion was pointless. One of the commenters posted another video, of a woman making a MRA speech. More comments.

Little did they know, dear Hivemind, little did they know. I waited, oh, I did, until the amount of sleezeballness was critical, until all the participants could boast about being STEM professionals and therefore knowing how to be precise and clear unlike those feminists, until the wind whispered victory and their hearts became full of joy.

For a minute there, I felt the adrenaline rush. Like a kid being introduced to the whole class, or a dog that has already sniffed its owners' arrival but hasn't yet seen them. I made myself a cup of coffee first.

I came down with the ire of a thousand young stars. I refuted all arguments like a social media leviathan. I presented references and statistical figures. Whenever someone complained about some term being invented by the feminist movement, I defined it. It took me hours, Hivemind.

The weaker ones tried to run away. They said that they didn't mean it, that they were foreign and English wasn't their forte. "Oh, foreign, you said? So am I." At that point I looked in the mirror and thought I saw Cthulhu, spreading horror over the minds of grown men.

The more resilient ones struggled, said that misandry is just as problematic, that women objectify men, that I was just showing off. They eventually fell. When they did, I could hear their souls baying at a moon that didn't exist anymore. I had won.

Now, my sweet friend of yore, I feast on their silence. I don't care about the ever so sporadic like that my comments might get. I feed on their fear. I went elbows deep into their never ending trollpit.

I couldn't stop thinking about you, Hivemind. You are the one that first taught me what sexism was. You showed me the ways of becoming a better person; you made me happy indeed.
Although I never show up anymore, I would like to say that I have never forgotten you and all that we had together. I would offer you their hopelessly damaged brains into a canvas sack for this victory, but you are better than that.

Groupthink, thank you.


Share This Story

Get our newsletter