Ah, yes, Valentine’s Day - the day women everywhere remind their
menfolk how incredibly lucky they are to have such strong, beautiful
princesses, and what awful, ungrateful, Neanderthal monsters (read:
ATMs) they are. Viewed through the distorting lens of post-modern,
“third wave feminism”, V-Day is the Special Olympics of relationships;
it is a treacherous mine-field through which menfolk are commanded to
run, the ultimate goal being the tangible and public declaration or
reaffirmation of their love and commitment to their “Goddesses”.
For
men, theirs is the Herculean task of attempting to triumph over years
of social conditioning, subliminal manipulation and inculcation
spoon-fed to and internalized by their Goddesses. The Goddesses have
been fed a steady diet of “Disney Princess” fantasies since early
childhood, a diet hand-crafted by those with an almost always financial
interest in the Message. All of the elements of the message -
consistency, efficacy, ubiquity - have been thoughtfully selected by the
creators and purveyors of visual, literary, electronic and
entertainment-related consumables, for the singular purposes of control
and manipulation.
Behavioral modification and conditioning are not
novel concepts. Feed children a steady stream of “you’re a perfect,
special snowflake”, treat them as if they were geese being tube-fed and
fattened for their unctuous, future foie gras livers, and you create a
consumer for life. More importantly, perhaps, you have elicited a
desired pattern of thought or behavior or both, patterns that will
invariably serve to fulfill your desired agenda or objectives. “You’re a
special, perfect princess and you don’t have to anything at all but be a
pretty, pretty princess! And someday, your dreamy, dashingly 9.5,
tailored suit-wearing, 7-figure earning, respectable job-having, only
slightly-but-not-irretrievably damaged prince will come for you!"
Yes,
ladies, that handsome prince, man of your dreams, when not working his
lucrative yet still flexible and respectable job, will lavish you with
all of the love and attention and (squee!!) gifts you’ve always been
told you not only want, but deserve!! The Message™ woven
through the fabric of just about everything tailored and broadcast to
little girls repeatedly reminded you that “You are a Goddess! A
Princess!”, and that you absolutely, unquestionably, simply because
you’re a girl, definitely deserve all of that, and more!
Together you and your Prince Charming will live happily ever after!
That is, at least until the divorce, brought about when that terrible,
awful man cheated on you with his younger, more attractive secretary.
Men are such pigs, am I right?!!
Fear not, Goddess or
Princess, or whatever moniker of faux-empowerment you’ve assigned
yourself. You totally are a strong, beautiful, curvy woman who don’t
need no man! Know why? Because you’ve been told that’s how you should
parse your failures, your insecurities, your foibles in order to remain
comfortably ensconced in childish immaturity. You’ve been programmed to
buy into the fucked-up, multiple personality disorder-riddled Message,
sold a bill of goods so fucking hollow and insidious that you’ve likely
never imagined for a moment it could all be a lie.
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