Poetry

Ode to a Misogynist

By: Connie Woodring

I don’t blame you for hating women, but let’s start at the beginning.

Born of ova (female) and sperm (male) you can only divest yourself from half of your existence.
Your first sensations are of safety, comfort, warmth in the body of a female.
Unless she is being attacked by a violent partner or ingesting toxic substances, you will live a
care-free life for the next nine months.
Unless you inherit genes for disease/deformity from your relatives,
you will emerge into the world intact and ready to take on the world that hates women.

Quickly forgetting the debt you owe her for your existence, you decide to hate women as soon as
you realize it is not safe to be around her.
You long to be back in the womb. The womb she ejected/rejected you from.
To add insult to injury, you are at the mercy of a woman who feeds and cares for you only when
she wants to.
You have no say in the matter. So, cry!!!

Your cries are your initial sounds of hatred.

Who is out there to save you? Your father? Perhaps a grandmother who seemingly doesn’t act
like a female. If your father, uncle, grandfather or brother do not come to your rescue, do
you still love them?

Soon enough, allies are coming. Male friends who play videogames, basketball and soccer.
The mantras begin: “We don’t want any sissy girls playing with us.” “They think they are equal
to us. They are just weaklings.” “Don’t play like a girl, or we will kick you off our team.”

Safe and secure among your comrades, they turn on you without warning with new mantras:
“Look at this magazine. Full of hot babes.” “I would love to screw that new girl, Marsha.”
“Hey, if you’re not interested in girls, that means you’re gay.”

Your lifelong dilemma begins. Love women you hate or ignore them and be damned as a
gay.

The first time your penis enters the vagina, you realize you are inching closer to your life’s
aspiration of returning to the womb. There will be no other reason for making love to a woman.

You never discuss your dream with anyone, especially men. Do they all feel the same way?
The mantras continue: “You can’t live with them, you can’t live without them.” “All women are
whores. They have all this power over men, even though they say they are powerless. They know
what they are doing with their bodies. We act like their slaves. We need to control women so
they don’t control us.”

You do your duty to society (not to yourself) and get married. You are suspicious, fearful,
insecure. You follow her, you interrogate her, you accuse her. You are obsessed with the fact
that she will eject/reject you like all females do. But you don’t cry!

Today is the day she (and all females) will pay. You kill her in cold, silent rage. You sacrifice
your free passage to the womb. You long to kill all wombs so they cannot inflict pain on men.

As you sit on death row, you know you will soon be asleep, quiet, comfortable, womb-like.

Categories: Poetry

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