Marxist Feminism & Chess: Final Musings of a Grand-Slandered-Master.

Why? Why not. This blog is about ideas, and as the woman on the (following) Hand Mirror thread is a unionist and local politician, that is, a wannabe ruler over me, and I want no part of that, the bad ideas underlying Marxist feminism must be brought into light for examination.

This was a Sunday morning doodle on the iPad. I don’t have time, nor the inclination, to finish it, though the next bit – from ‘etc and so forth’ - was going to be about my anonymous opponent playing with a bag on her head … This post will make more sense in the context of my original post, describing anonymous Tweeter, Queen of Thorns, slanderous attack on me.

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Call me self-obsessed, apparently, but on reflection, playing chess with Marxist feminists felt like sitting opposite an opponent who has a seventeenth piece that I couldn't see: all of a sudden I would find my pieces missing from the board with no seeming explanation for it. After their surprise slander-ambit opening, I thought I might have still played for the draw: if I could only have figured out the pattern, I might’ve by logic allowed for their invisible piece, if it was not, that is, for the further fact that in reality they didn’t actually have an extra piece at all, they just thought they did, and were moving it about according to rules that applied only to some infernal dialectic I wasn’t party to, which ended up allowing them to move to any square they felt like at all.

Although what finally defeated me were the competition rules:

While I was playing against the game clock of reality, they refused to be so constricted, as no woman should have to accept any type of obligation placed on her: time could follow them, or be damned, thanks.

(Wrong, sorry, they wouldn’t say thanks. There’s a law against civility – no seriously, there is. And believe me, they employ it; of the one’s who did interact, it was all prickles and body armour, there was not a civil one amongst them.)

Worse, I couldn’t ever question one of their fictitious piece moves that were constantly taking first my pieces, then my mind, because 'hey, this game wasn’t all about me, you know'. And demanding answers, that’s harassment. 

… etc and so forth.

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That’s all I got to, but a final point, however:

A columnist I find myself more and more in agreement with, than not, is Rosemary Mcleod. As Queen of Thorns would say, I giggled when I read her Press column of Thursday, regarding the departing of Master Chef contestant, Raheel Keer, the previous Sunday:

‘… In a final elimination test the other female contestants turned their backs on her, the way popular kids always do against an outsider at school. When women join forces against you, you’ve had it, and she knew it.’

A non-trivial surprise to me, I have to acknowledge reality and agree about this bullying collectivism over the individual mentality (I should’ve understood it from the outset; they were, after all, playing for team Marx). The ‘gang’, that is what the little toxic corner of New Zealand Marxist feminism that reached out and touched me – I never went looking for them - has felt like: they never once put a spotlight on Queen of Thorns, asked relevant questions about her behaviour, including about her hate site with its wall of scum. New Zealand Marxist feminists appear, admittedly anecdotally, to be only interested in talking amongst themselves, while shutting dissent down with their un-touchable touch-stone, sacred words: obligation (they accept none, as with responsibility – neither an obligation to truth, nor a responsibility to stand by what they write anonymously); trivialisation (huge word); and of course to defend your character from smear is to be self-obsessed. That last is the big shut-down.

What Marxist feminists are saying, if truthful to ‘thine own selves’, in calling me a harasser and self-obsessed for defending my character against a series of falsehoods published anonymously by Queen of Thorns, is that they don’t individually feel like their own characters are worth defending in similar circumstances, because they don’t see such a defence as a value: what does that say about the feminist movement? There was nothing trivial in that exchange, philosophically: the problem for Marxist feminism was it couldn’t see that.

So to my final question as I posted to the Hand Mirror, my last comment to the thread of which I have just noted has been deleted: where does reality fit into feminism? And where are they aiming for on bypassing it? Remembering no acknowledgement of reality, means no acknowledgement of morality. A great woman, one of the thinkers towering over the twentieth century, Ayn Rand, would tell them that, I recommend they read her, because Marx is leading them up the garden path to my serfdom, yet again.

[Um, checking, obsessively, obviously, Thorny’s tweets and posts over the last week – well I did once – I agree with far more of her posts than not: my point is the tactic of her hate site, and unwillingness to retract when wrong, or even interact, undermines everything she writes otherwise. And she doesn’t realise that posting anonymously, for a self-labeled cause, in fact puts her under an obligation taken voluntarily, and with that a responsibility. She continues to welch out of both.]


Update 1:

Social Welfare commentator, and another of my writing heroines, Lindsay Mitchell, has an interesting column up today on this matter of 'privilege'.


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The Obnoxious School of Feminism.