Iāve spent the last few days watching Clem Ford endure an almighty shit-show of poorly spelled hate speech, presented by the outraged Internet at large.
It didnāt take long for the words āslutā, ācuntā and ārapeā to lose all meaning for me. But the ferocity of their use? The rage with which they were wielded? The violence of the mob? That was very meaningful. It seemed particularly brutal and I worried for Clem.
She didnāt even flinch. Evidently, you canāt bully someone like Clem into silence. All you can do with your fury is highlight how powerful a person becomes when they donāt need your permission or require your approval.Ā
When I was able to drag my eyes away from the wall of illiterate bitch slurs, I realised there were all these onlookers; men and women acting as witness to Clem staring down a public beating without shrinking from it.
How potent an image that is.
I mean, the true genius of patriarchy is that it relies on a passive management of the genders. Itās the threat of violence, the threat of abuse, the threat of debasement that does most of the work. In large part, the threat of something is more effective at forcing inhibition than the experience of that thing. We self-regulate because an anonymous power may or may not be surveying us, and may or may not act against us. Social sanction, rejection, humiliation and exile are commanding tools, and theyāre brought to bear on women constantly.
But the secret is theyāre largely impotent, and where theyāre not, you canāt assuage them with good behaviour. And itās a truth we can demonstrate quite easily. Clem does it all the time.
So it is hugely important for people to see these looming consequences in action ā to see a frothing mob do their worst, spit this bile, make these threats ā and to see Clem carry on as if nothing has ever been lorded over her. For women, for menā¦ It underscores for all of us how impotent these deterrents really are.
Itās unfair that weāve left it up to a handful of commentators to be our tributes. But Lindy West, Rebecca Shaw, Clem Fordā¦ We see women like this face barrage after barrage of bullshit every fucking day. We see them summon whatās usually insidious and unacknowledged and passive and shadowy and square up to it, every fucking day. And no matter the fallout, we see them come back, and mount another offensive, every fucking day.
Iāve always been outraged on their behalf. Itās not acceptable that this happens. It never will be. But it will contribute to change. Because when the barrage comes, it brings with it a very dangerous illumination. It highlights for everyone how scared these faceless hordes of men are. How easily threatened. How weak. And this is a damning truth, this is what needs to sink in for people: that such a MAJOR cross-section of our species can be so disarmed, can feel so disempowered, by the existence of one, or two, or three women acting on their own authority.
What if five of us do it? Or 100? What if a full 10% of us realise whatās going on and call your bluff? Because thatās where this is going.
Honestly, I donāt know what I can do for feminism, but Iām suddenly very Down To Feminist. Iām suddenly very keen to ignite the simpering ire of men who fear women like me. Women who have always been too angry, too smart, too sure of themselves. Women who have never been acceptable. Women who are immune to the bullshit and the dross and the limp, passive aggressive mewling of tiny baby men. I am more than happy to take a public beating, I am more than happy to be unfuckable, or unrapeable, or in need of the D, or too fat, or too frigid or too slutty or an ugly dyke or a cunt or a bitch. It would be my pleasure. My delight. Come at me. See what happens.
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