Quote:
But the most spectacular case so far -and one completely ignored by American media- is that of Swedish feminist Joanna Rytel.
Earlier this year, she wrote an article called "I Will Never Give Birth to a White Man," for a major Swedish daily, Aftonbladet. [Jag tänker aldrig föda en vit man, April 11, 2004]
Rytel explained why she hates white men -they are selfish, exploitative, vain, and sex-crazed- and just to make things clear, she added, "no white men, please -- I just puke on them, thank you very much." ["Dom spyr jag bara på, tack."]
She wrote that other than the women's restroom, she can find peace only in the segregated women's ISLAMIC prayer room in the mosque in central Stockholm:
"At least Muslim men don't mind that women have their own community in peace and quiet." She added that she might let a white man follow her home, but only because "I can have someone to talk with all night long about my hatred towards white men."
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This reminded me of an article that I found a few years ago, at the peak of one the Nordicist hostilities against Europeans on Skadi. It was on an online feminist magazine, which I can't find anymore. I've found bits and pieces here and there. Don't miss it:
Quote:
Now sit, Ingvar. Sit!
Young women in Sweden, Germany and Australia have a new cause: They want men to sit down while urinating. This demand comes partly from concerns about hygiene -- avoiding the splash factor -- but, as Jasper Gerard reports in the English magazine The Spectator, "more crucially because a man standing up to urinate is deemed to be triumphing in his masculinity, and by extension, degrading women." One argument is that if women can't do it, then men shouldn't either. Another is that standing upright while relieving oneself is "a nasty macho gesture," suggestive of male violence.
A feminist group at Stockholm University is campaigning to ban all urinals from campus, and one Swedish elementary school has already removed them. In Australia, an Internet survey shows that 17 percent of those polled think men ought to sit, while 70 percent believe they should be allowed to stand. Some Swedish women are pressuring their men to take a stand, so to speak. Yola, a 25-year-old Swedish trainee psychiatrist, says she dumps boyfriends who insist on standing. "What else can I do?," said her new boyfriend, Ingvar, who sits.
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Another one that I've found on one of the sites that quotes the above text:
Quote:
Back in Germany, men are losing their last bastion of masculinity: "German men are being shamed into urinating while sitting down by a gadget which is saving millions of women from cleaning up in the bathroom after them.
The WC ghost, a £6 voice-alarm, reprimands men for standing at the lavatory pan. It is triggered when the seat is lifted. The battery-operated devices are attached to the seats and deliver stern warnings to those who attempt to stand and urinate (known as 'Stehpinkeln')." Why not instead manufacture toilets with the seat permanently attached down? And won't the WC ghost simply make German men urinate standing but without lifting the seat?
German men were being admonished to pee sitting down by a gadget called the WC ghost; when the device detects a lifted toilet seat, it says, in German: "Hey, stand peeing ("Stehpinkeln") is not allowed here and will be punished with fines, so if you don't want any trouble, you'd best sit down." It was reported that the term for a man who pees sitting down, "Sitzpinkler," is a synonym for "wimp."
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These articles are from about 6 to 7 years ago, in 2000. At the time, they reminded me of what I had seen in England through the 90s.
As an example, one evening my ex-wife had asked me to go with her to a friend's of her for dinner. I didn't feel like it at all. I had already noticed how her friend looked at me, as if wishing that my ex-wife wasn't present to jump on me. She had noticed too, as she told me. She also told me that her friend had an affair with her boss. She had a successful career in a big company, a husband who was a lecturer of Architecture in some university, and two children..
One day, she arrived home and told her husband that she was leaving him and that she was taking the children with her. The man did nothing but to implore her not to leave him, broken in tears. What she didn't expect was that her boss, as soon as he saw her arriving with the children, refused to take her in. Of course he wanted a bitch, but not the sons of a bitch.. excuse the language.
When my ex-wife told me that when her friend went back home with the children, the husband only said how happy he was and never asked a word again, I first felt deeply sorry for him. But soon my feelings changed and I started to feel a deep contempt for him and much despise for her.
I told my ex-wife that I wasn't happy that she was a friend of such a bitch. She excused herself by saying that she didn't even like her, but since they knew each other from South Africa, where they had been working in the same company and lived nearby.. My ex-wife was a South African of an Afrikaner family. The bitch was South African too, but of a British family. The husband was typically English.
Anyway, I felt curious to meet such a.. man? So I agreed to go for the evening. Most unpleasant. During the dinner she wouldn't stop talking nonesense about her successful career and how often she had traveled to Spain and how much she like it. He looked as if he was on a corner apart on the table, as.. I couldn't explain in English. I tried to break the ice with him, asking a few questions directed to him. His answers were short and shy.. and always finished by her. It was starting to annoy me much.
After the dinner, I felt that I wouldn't be able to make it till the end of the evening without some help. So I asked for a whiskey while they drank Amarula, a South African drink somehow similar to Bailey's.
More of the same. She wouldn't stop talking to me. I would have thought that my ex-wife and her had much to talk to each other about South Africa, clothes, and whatever else. As she was talking I said "Excuse me..", smiled, turned my face at him and asked him about his lectures at university, as if I was interested in whatever he taught there. He managed to say a few words before she took the word from him and started to speak for him.. again!
And again, and again.. no matter how I was clearly ignoring her and interrupting her to try to make room for him in the conversation, she wouldn't give up.
I don't think that I'll ever forget those two. A few days later my ex-wife told me that her friend made her a comment about me, as an advance if you know what I mean. My ex-wife broke all relations with her.
I met him again a month or so later. My ex-wife told me that he had called her because she had left him again, and that he was literally destroyed. She asked me to take him out and try to cheer him up. I thought that if he got drunk I might still get a quarter of a man out of him. That was easy, he got drunk before finishing the second bottle of wine.. and broke into tears in the restaurant. I couldn't think of anything better to tell him but to jump into the Thames for a swim.. so I took him home instead.
I sometimes wonder about him. I'm not sure if I should blame it all on her.. or on him. It is the egg and the hen. For women to have turned like that, men must have allowed them to first. Or not?
England is a land of contrasts. It is either wimps.. or pimps.