Embracing Your Inner "Poon Nazi"

What if she just said, “No Tail For You!”

This is a week that has produced, in quick succession, a bill to all-but-ban the right to choose in the People’s Republic of Mississippi, a Republican Supreme Court that has ruled that anti-choice mobs have the right to terrorize women and girls when they visit their doctors, and the revelation of a mash note from Sam Ailto’s to wingnut Mullah James Dobson that made Harriet Myers' paean to her Big Swingin’ Dick of a President look positively…actuarial…by comparison.

So if anyone had any doubt about who really runs the Republican Party, put them to bed without supper.

The Confederate Right has always been led by weak, flaccid, little men who cower behind John Law and Judge Lynch and beg them to protect their inadequate manhood and freeze-dried egos from the predations of vibrators, strong women and every Black Man who every lived. They have had a hard-on for re-institutionalizing the Divine Right of White Men to treat woman and brown people as chattel since the traitor army of GOP v 1.0 surrendered at Appomattox, so since The War on Your Bikini Area is definitely on, let me humbly offer the following.

First, a quick action plan for making the Mole Rat Right uncomfortable.

1. Strap a cross to the roof of every, single Family Planning Clinic in America.

2. Get a friendly pastor to call it a church, and fully exert the rights extended to every other religion.

3. In every town with a conservative, pro-Republican church, have a loud mob show up every Sunday – carrying very graphic signs showing dead Iraqi children and lynched African-Americans. This “Operation Rescue Sweet Baby Jesus” should loudly insist that they have the right to “educate” the parishioners about the true dangers to their immortal souls of worshiping at the anti-Christian cult of Falwell and Dobson.

Second, this scathing, passionate update on the Lysistrata strategy via my favorite erotica bloginatrix, the indespensible Susie Bright, who asks this very reasonable, maddening question:

So why do women just take it? Why do I surrender so often myself? Why isn’t there a Lysistrata-style uprising every time we’re up against the wall? Why are the bullies the agenda-setters every where I turn?

Here’s the full-throated cry to which Ms. Bright links from this LiveJournal entry.

This is not about abortion.

If you read the article in its entirety, I think that much is obvious -- this is not about abortion. If this were about abortion -- specifically, about fewer abortions being performed -- then those interested in reducing that number would hop all over this bill. So I'll say it again, this is not about abortion.

This is about women having sex, and who gets to be in charge of that sex.

Well, really -- that's what it all comes down to, isn't it? At present, there is a movement in place to make sure that (to lift a phrase from Dan Savage) men have orgasms, and women have babies.

There are people in this world who very firmly believe that this is the natural order of things: men have orgasms, and women have babies. This is a sacred balance, whereby a man is made happy for two minutes and a woman spends the next nine months serving as host to a life-threatening parasite, then the next eighteen years held legally, morally, and fiscally responsible for the health and well-being of that parasite ... while the man is free to wander off or stick around at his leisure.

This is a balance that many, many people -- many of them in positions of power -- are willing to go to great lengths to enforce. Never mind that many (but not all) of these people are men, and are therefore unlikely to be held accountable for any parasite more complex than a tapeworm ... for some strange reason or reasons, these people want to make sure that it is very, very difficult for your average American woman to manage her reproductive system.

Most of the people who object to the wide, easy availability of birth control are men. These men have the luxury of assuming this position because they have no reason to believe that they, personally, have anything at stake. I find this baffling.

The solution is so obvious that it can be boiled down to three words: stop fucking them.

That's right. Stop fucking them.

If your man doesn't understand that if he's entitled to an orgasm, you're entitled to an unoccupied uterus -- stop fucking him. If he can't get it through his thick skull that his fleeting pleasure poses a mortal threat to you -- stop fucking him. No handjobs, no blowjobs, no orgasms for him whatsoever except by his own hand, until you can be completely assured of a baby-free future, at your discretion.

These men do not deserve access to your pants. Stop fucking them.

I don't know what you think you owe them, and I don't care how badly they whine or beg. I don't care if they're wonderful boyfriends otherwise. I don't care if you're married to them. Stop fucking them. It is still your body. It is still your call. Clearly, they do not understand this. So stop fucking them.

They will not die if you do not fuck them. Stop fucking them.

Remember: You can hold out longer than they can. I promise. Your sex toys are better,* your self-control is superior, and your stakes are higher. Stop fucking them. You deserve better. You deserve someone who is aware that your body is your domain, and who respects that. If he doesn't respect that, stop fucking him.

Just stop. Stop it. You deserve better, and he deserves a cold shower if he thinks he is entitled to control over your vagina and how you manage its daily operation. Stop fucking him if he thinks that someone other than you should determine what hangs around inside you. Stop fucking him, because he would sooner masturbate with a corkscrew than let you dictate how he receives his prostate exams.

Stop fucking him if he refers to birth control as your problem, then helps vote in legislation that makes it your really big fucking problem. Stop fucking him if he thinks that your inability to prevent conception should in no way prevent him from having sex with you.

It's not that complicated.
Stop fucking him.
Stop it. Seriously.
Christ.

Overall I'd agree that women have a lot more power en masse than they tend to exercise and a whole lot of nonesense in this world would come to a screeching halt the day after it was announced that sex would henceforth be directly tied to being a decent man, but I am troubled because it seems to me, on some level, the question itself is subtly sexist.

By casting women as Superior Beings who have failed and fallen in some way, instead of flawed sinners who are as likely to be as noble or base on any given day as anyone else, the premise itself objectifies women in a very specific way.

Still, given that the now-emboldened Uterati have decided to turn this from a Cold War into a Hot one, it seems that different times demand different tools and, as Dear Leader says, "no options should be taken off the table."