Now that the odious Matt Walsh has given us the answer to “What is a Woman?” we must now turn to the male of the species and ask: What is a man?
According to Walsh, by the way, a woman is someone who needs a man to open a pickle jar. This information comes right at the end of his film which opens with some wonderfully smug sexism. But if you can get yourself beyond those few opening moments you have a deliciously entertaining expose of the worst absurdity of gender ideology. (I suggest watching the slightly speeded-up version.)
Walsh doesn’t give credit to the women who’ve done the research on this (thinking of Helen Joyce, Kathleen Stock, Julie Bindell, and so many others) but his film does allow the devotees to speak for themselves.
And you do have to ask: How did so many otherwise intelligent and well-educated people come to believe this stuff? That part is scary. Gender ideology is bonkers.
Walsh is a dyed-in-the-wool misogynist and no friend of feminism, but he has produced a very funny film.
Along the way, we have some additional philosophical questions to ponder such as:
“Do chickens cry?” and
“How come so many well-educated professionals talk like zombies captured by a cult?”
These folks are like those clean-cut, nicely dressed people who turn up on your doorstep clutching their literature and who are so well-prepped they are immune to all serious inquiry and critical thought.
With so many people thinking that a woman is anyone who says they are a woman, is it also the case that anyone who says they are a man, is actually a man?
So let’s take a look at some recent events. These two males (left) entered a race category to compete against women at the Herne Hill Velodrome cycle race last week. They came in first and second and are seen celebrating on the podium as the woman winner – Jo Smith, seen here with her baby – looks on.
Now let’s consider Matthew Simon oldest son of the Baron of Wythenshawe who now identifies as a woman and calls himself Matilda.
In May, Simon was given permission to contest the next by-election for one of the House of Lords’ remaining 92 hereditary seats.
Simon is actively seeking out this title in spite of the fact that a woman is not entitled by law to inherit a male peerage. Simon has an older sister but she is not eligible to inherit. Under the Gender Recognition Act, Simon is legally a woman. Under the legal right of male primogeniture, he is a man.
Have cake. Put icing on the top And eat it.
This doesn’t seem to be about rights but rather plain old-fashioned sexism and entitlement. Stunning and brave and at least someone may now be happier.
By becoming a “woman” a male gains access and is entitled to previously sex-based rights. These rights primarily have to do with issues of privacy and safety (toilets, changing rooms, prison facilities) and – in sports – a way to manage the male advantages of physical strength and speed. They also become eligible for the awards and positions designated for women as an attempt to compensate for sex-based inequalities.
Can a woman opt into the advantages of being a man? Not so easy. All the testosterone in the world is not going to close the sex-based pay, power, and physical advantage gap. When it comes to changing identity, it seems that the advantages – beyond the sense of personal comfort (and I don’t discount the importance of that) – are something of a one-way street.
Endnote
Without any effort on my part, I got called “Sir” twice at the vet last week. I am pleased to report this did not make me a man. Also, I did not faint or literally die because of this evil, nazi, bigotry-akin-to-genocide misgendering. But, equally, no advantages accrued. (And the cat is fine, so no worries there).
The featured image is of the billboard Kellie-Jay Keen-Minshull paid to have put up in Liverpool in 2018.
It was removed after complaints that it was transphobic.
With my name I’m often mistaken for a woman. I’ve never understood this as Ashley was Ashley Wilkes in Gone With the Wind! 1939! 🙋♂️ How times have changed! 😮
Ashley´s last blog post ..A Sunny Day
There are so many names that were traditionally male names that are now more commonly given to girls. Robin, Sydney, Jocelyn, Beverley, Hilary, Dana, Kim, Meredith, and so many others.
While I may appear to you to be a 5’4″ overweight 75 year old woman, I am in fact a 6′ tall slim 27 year old and demand to be treated as such. Otherwise I will accuse you of ageism and fat shaming.
“Six impossible things before breakfast.” I try to make this my daily motto.
We do have to wonder whether people have lost their mind. Men are not women. Women are not a costume that men can put on. A man is not a woman in a three piece suit and a monocle. ( I dare to say Radclyffe Hall would agree.)
And if they have (lost their minds) – then the consequences are scary beyond anything Lewis Carroll could imagine.
These young folks – these children – with their access to drugs and surgeries – a whole new hell awaits them – and us – I fear.
And then the AGPs – what is up with all these middle aged men deciding they want to wear a dress and put on make-up and parade as lesbians? WTAF is that all about other than abuse?
This discussion, and especially the information around your final image, reminds me so much of Humpty Dumpty’s famous dictum in the Alice books: “When I use a word it means just what I choose it to mean— neither more nor less.” But as Alice goes on to say “The question is whether you can make words mean so many different things.” That’s really the nub of the controversy, isn’t it?
‘You couldn’t have it if you did want it,’ the Queen said. ‘The rule is, jam to-morrow and jam yesterday—but never jam to-day.’
‘It must come sometimes to “jam to-day,”‘ Alice objected.
‘No, it can’t,’ said the Queen. ‘It’s jam every other day: to-day isn’t any other day, you know.’
‘I don’t understand you,’ said Alice. ‘It’s dreadfully confusing!’
When it comes to a world that is upside down, inside out and topsy turvy lewis Carroll is always the best guide.
“Alice was just beginning to say ‘There’s a mistake somewhere—,’ when the Queen began screaming so loud that she had to leave the sentence unfinished. ‘Oh, oh, oh!’ shouted the Queen, shaking her hand about as if she wanted to shake it off. ‘My finger’s bleeding! Oh, oh, oh, oh!’
Her screams were so exactly like the whistle of a steam-engine, that Alice had to hold both her hands over her ears.
‘What is the matter?’ she said, as soon as there was a chance of making herself heard. ‘Have you pricked your finger?’
‘I haven’t pricked it yet,’ the Queen said, ‘but I soon shall—oh, oh, oh!’
‘When do you expect to do it?’ Alice asked, feeling very much inclined to laugh.
‘When I fasten my shawl again,’ the poor Queen groaned out: ‘the brooch will come undone directly. Oh, oh!’ As she said the words the brooch flew open, and the Queen clutched wildly at it, and tried to clasp it again.
‘Take care!’ cried Alice. ‘You’re holding it all crooked!’ And she caught at the brooch; but it was too late: the pin had slipped, and the Queen had pricked her finger.
‘That accounts for the bleeding, you see,’ she said to Alice with a smile. ‘Now you understand the way things happen here.’
‘But why don’t you scream now?’ Alice asked, holding her hands ready to put over her ears again.
‘Why, I’ve done all the screaming already,’ said the Queen. ‘What would be the good of having it all over again?’
By this time it was getting light. ‘The crow must have flown away, I think,’ said Alice: ‘I’m so glad it’s gone. I thought it was the night coming on.’
‘I wish I could manage to be glad!’ the Queen said. ‘Only I never can remember the rule. You must be very happy, living in this wood, and being glad whenever you like!’
‘Only it is so very lonely here!’ Alice said in a melancholy voice; and at the thought of her loneliness two large tears came rolling down her cheeks.
‘Oh, don’t go on like that!’ cried the poor Queen, wringing her hands in despair. ‘Consider what a great girl you are. Consider what a long way you’ve come to-day. Consider what o’clock it is. Consider anything, only don’t cry!’
Alice could not help laughing at this, even in the midst of her tears. ‘Can you keep from crying by considering things?’ she asked.
‘That’s the way it’s done,’ the Queen said with great decision: ‘nobody can do two things at once, you know. Let’s consider your age to begin with—how old are you?’
‘I’m seven and a half exactly.’
‘You needn’t say “exactually,”‘ the Queen remarked: ‘I can believe it without that. Now I’ll give you something to believe. I’m just one hundred and one, five months and a day.’
‘I can’t believe that!’ said Alice.
‘Can’t you?’ the Queen said in a pitying tone. ‘Try again: draw a long breath, and shut your eyes.’
Alice laughed. ‘There’s no use trying,’ she said: ‘one can’t believe impossible things.’
‘I daresay you haven’t had much practice,’ said the Queen. ‘When I was your age, I always did it for half-an-hour a day. Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast. There goes the shawl again!'”
“Six impossible things before breakfast.” I try to make this my daily motto.
Josie…You are back with a bang and buying into one of the greatest controversies of our time. As Sir Humphrey used to say in Yes Minister, ‘ You might say that but I couldn’t possibly say that’
“You might well think that, Mattie. I couldn’t possibly comment.- Francis Urquhart, as played by Ian Richardson in “House of Cards” 1990.
“The Party told you to reject the evidence of your eyes and ears. It was their final, most essential command.” ― George Orwell, 1984
Hello Gert – yes, back after not going away very far. Have been watching your Katherine Deves and other dramas from afar. “O brave new world, that has such absurdity in it!” We live in strange times.
Thank you for the “Yes, Minister” reminder. Was thinking to watch that again along with some Rumpoles.
Didn’t do Deves much good. “House of Cards” was wonderful Wouldn’t mind watching that again.
“House of Cards” was brilliant
I see there has been a U S remake But the original BBC version is available here too. Yippee
Re. “I got called ‘Sir’ – Nice to see that some things don’t change! I remember you being called ‘Sir’ in the Stockwell chip shop 50 years ago. You were wearing a skirt at the time…
Yes! Thanks for the memory Teena. That happened.
It’s one of my personal favourites in my annals of ye ancient “gender” wars. Amazing that you remember it. Plaice and Chips for two on the Brixton Road c. 1970. Wrap it up, and take it home to the condemned house with the outdoor loo and no hot water. (Handy ambulance station on the corner.)
Jackie has a similar memory about an incident in the ladies’ loo in the car park at Cardigan Castle a few years later. No fish and chips involved.
Happy times.
In how many situations do people we meet actually need to know what genitalia we have? At the vets, did they ask you to specify? Show them? Then why ask..or define you….Ms or Mr? worse ms or mrs married or not? It’s such a cesspool for inherited bigotry and abuse of power. Whereas, is the cat male or female might well be important to know in many situations? There’s this ongoing mix up..in use of the word woman compared to female. Or perhaps it is not a simple “mix up”….since in our society certain privileges and advantages are given to one sex and not to another. That’s the difference…so no to long live that difference.
Well, obviously that needs to change. I presume, though that “Women and children first” would also get thrown out.
There is that American expression “Oh get over yourself”. Seriously, there are so many things one could take offense to, but why give anyone the satisfaction of seeing they upset you? Often it is not even what they intend. Should we be more sensitive to other people’s feelings? Of course, that would be nice. But half the time I think people are looking for something to be offended by. As a young person I tolerated all sorts of remarks from men that these days would bring down wrath upon them. Was I damaged? No. Truth is, back then one sometimes enjoyed that guys noticed you. Of course it could go too far, but were women really more abused back then? Personally, I think society has just gone soppy. Men don’t know how to grow a backbone and women often try too hard to prove they are “equal”. Fact: men and woman are not the same. Vive la difference.