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E. Jean Caroll’s Nasty Little Game – the Animus of the Childless, Family-less Boomer.
Will Gen Z Outliers Save the Human Race?
I got into a scrap this week over E. Jean Caroll’s lawsuit vs Trump for sexual assault in the dressing room at Bergdorf’s. Trump was cleared of rape but not assault and while no doubt he’ll fight it (“I don’t know the woman. She’s not my type anyway”), it was yet another attack funded by a left-wing billionaire to take down a man the scolds in our culture detest.
My perspective drew from ten years around women like E. Jean in New York, alpha females to the max, pursuing in no particular order, rich men, the zipless fuck and/or sexual adventure, fame, power, extraordinary wealth. I was married at the time, exhausted, just out of grad school, to one of those guys everyone loves, walking with him through Soho was a royal progress, me the little shadow that enhanced his greatness.
Our friends were the innovators of today’s sexual marketplace. It was a time of great flux. Everyone wanted to be or was an artist, ambisexual, multiple partners, nights were hunting time for most of our friends, gay and straight. I woke up every morning thankful I was in love because out there, it was the Serengeti of predators, men and women clashing, taking, cruel, women friends broke over and over, got up and went out again. Women like E. Jean were particularly scary because they had a lot of ferocious energy and talent with which to pursue money and power through their sexuality. Nigh impossible to get beyond VP of American Express or Editor in Chief, and those jobs were vanishingly scarce. So it was rich men through which you could gain power.
I can see exactly what happened if it happened at all. There is zero corroborating evidence it did. They ran into each other in the revolving doors at Bergdorf’s. She saw a story in the making, made a joke, he returned, she flirted, he flirted, he followed her to the third floor – separates – and then he cornered her in a dressing room. They made out for a few moments, then she pushed him off. They laughed and that was it.
Trump did not lack for partners, some women around wealthy or powerful or famous men are predatory in the extreme and they will throw themselves at them. You can do anything to them and they will smile and like it. “You can grab them by the pussy” and they will like it. I spent years interviewing the rich and famous in various fields, so I watched, it was embarrassing as hell. The contempt in the eyes of the man, the shame and disappointment of the woman.
He attempted to rape her? Of course not. He saw invitation.
This opinion got me sworn at big time by readers of a girl-substack. I was to believe all women or else. I was saying she was ‘asking for it’, same as “wearing provocative clothes” meant you were asking for it. I finally said, look, this is the same as Blasey-Ford. There is zero corroborating evidence that Kavanaugh and his pal tried to rumble her, but I know in my bones that Blasey-Ford, was like all the hot girls at the hot school in DC in the 80s, looking for fun and sexual adventure. Then she, like all my friends, walked right into raw nature. Nice to think you can overcome it with willpower, rules, hectoring and chemicals, but you can’t – we are human, we feel through our flesh, our hormones, our tumultuous biology. It is our great gift and great curse. It makes us creative, tender, empathic, stronger than strong. Allied to spirit, invincible. Should Trump have responded? No. But the time was what it was. Everyone was infected.
A new book, Feminism Against Progress looks at the results of our attempting to transgress against nature from a millennial point of view, and finds it just as distressing. Because our friends didn’t make it. Aside from the hundreds of artists, musicians and would-bes my husband knew, we started a store in Soho that became insanely successful, and met thousands more hipsters, international this time. A lot of them didn’t make it either. A lot of them died. For a decade, the chronicles of early death were devastating. The sexual free-for-all in lower Manhattan in the 80’s and 90’s was anything but healthy. HIV, alcoholism, Hep C, drugs, breakdowns, one after another after another after another died. Uptown, my friends married, safe by the skin of their teeth. But I know hundreds of women who went down that route who didn’t marry, and are childless. Heartbreakingly, regretfully, childless. It is the great unsaid truth of the last two generations. Yes, they built careers, some were very successful, some not so much. A lot of those women are behind the fierce left, the vengeful left. The raging face of disappointed feminism. E. Jean Carrol. Hillary’s crazed supporters.
Mary Harrington in Feminism Against Progress played around in the digital identity space, toyed with bisexuality, and various other permutations of sexual and social arrangements and found herself exhausted and unhappy. She married and fell pregnant. Another attempt at surmounting fate, becoming not-human, failed. The love she felt for her child, the intense physical, elemental bond, shocked the hell out of her. Her husband was able to pay the freight so she stayed home. Had she known what she was missing, she says, she could have had more children, because this was more meaningful than anything else ever could be.
And then she wrote a great book, proving family and work are not mutually exclusive.
It is human to want to transcend nature, to self-define, to breed, build a happy family, do meaningful work and make money and a name for yourself. To expand and extend. But there are costs.
Harrington points out that much of the disarray from Gen Z, its pursuit of safety, its inability to engage is because of their being dropped off at day care at the age of two weeks. She claims almost 80% of us are forced by a brutalist marketplace to leave our children in the hands of others. Personal attention was supplanted by administrative attention. Care operators, fearing lawsuits and bad reputations swaddled these kids in proscriptions against risky behaviour, forced rules upon rules. Lack of maternal care means they now find identity in administered space, a bumpless space, where they can remain disengaged from real life, but still have a kind of a life. Disengaged with the real world, they find meaning in exploring other identities. Add in porn which means 12 year old boys have access to more beautiful women than Emperors and Kings, add in the jiggle bunnies of TikTok and OnlyFans, Grindr and you have a generation where 20% are having a lot of meaningless sex, and most kids aren’t. Most kids are withdrawing. They’ve seen so much ass, so many gape-mouthed kisses, so much flesh, they just…refuse.
Gen Z is refusing the pill.
I had to read this twice. TikTok searches for getting off the birth control pill are sky-high.
They are, in fact, refusing the whole game. The vaccine Gardasil, which aims to make those engaging in promiscuous sex steer clear of cervical cancer? Nope. Not going there. Yuck. They know that many sexual partners alters your body and brain chemistry. The pill makes them depressed, it throws their cycle off, they are saying nope. This is Your Brain on the Pill is a best-seller. By over-riding their biology, they are losing a precious part of themselves, and they’d rather not.
For four generations now, our cruel reductive hectoring culture has told us there are too many of us. The trans thing has been seeded and promoted by powerful billionaires, at least in part, to deflect breeding. Trans kids not only sterilize themselves, many of them can’t orgasm. Our schools have taught us that sex is no more important than any other body function. These ideas are entirely false, evil even. They have led to a birthrate crash that threatens the future. Other than sub-Saharan Africa, we are not even close to replacing ourselves and the results of that threaten catastrophe. Add in MNRA vaccine damage, GenZ will have to fight for fertility and family as hard as primitive man.
Humans cannot become disembodied and stay human. They are not digital atoms in a fantasy world. If they force themselves, they will lose every tender emotion, every wild and magical moment of embodied sexual love, access to their creative selves, access to their spirits. Cyborg theocracy means we will become machine, empty and soulless, without affect.
It’s not going to happen, young women will refuse it, and young men will see a future with them. Women run the private sphere still, it is there we find everything we need, love, warmth, rest, our souls, the energy to create, and nothing, not the metaverse, not transhumanism, not cyborg theocracy, or the grim prisons envisioned by our billionaire overlord fascists guided by the foulness that is Klaus Schwab will replace the family, the homestead, peace.
Of course I don’t mean sexual assault is excusable, I mean don’t be a freaking idiot and walk into danger.
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