All throughout last week I was enjoying past issues of feminista!, the grandly-named “Journal of Feminist Construction”.
Just a quick look-through will prove beyond a doubt that feminist journals always maintain the highest standards of quality writing.
At the very least, you certainly won’t get the impression that a significant number of the contributing authors call themselves feminists to distract people from how intellectually-stunted they are.
The cover-art is a lovely depiction of a young womyn in the process of becoming wicked high and/or possessed by the feminista spirit:
And one of the finest examples of this genre is A Call for Young Women To Get Mad!
Its author, Delaie Woodlock of Australia, has the middling English and awkward diction to prove she is a vagina warrior of extreme pissed-offedness. One who takes no shit from no one!
Not from men. Not from society. And certainly not from the team of psychologists who have irritated her so much throughout life.
What is most inspiring about Ms. Woodlock is that she is not afraid to question the very concept of sanity itself:
When we discover the reality, that merely believing you are free doesn’t make it happen or mean it is true, of course we get even more depressed, unresponsive and suicidal. Then to add to our pain we are told our brains are what are making us mad. We have faulty biology, broken brains, and out of control emotions. Our madness is solved simply with a mind-altering drug and we are not only turned into emotionless robots but also cash cows for pharmaceutical companies. Pathologised. Psychiatrized. Duped.
For those of you who have an unruly, mad woman mind like I do, I urge you to question the mental illness industry. For years I was bounced around by shrinks who either blamed me, my brain, or my mum for my fears. I have been drugged and gone through the terrible withdrawals. I still suffer from bouts of agoraphobia and while patriarchy is in power, I probably always will. But I refuse to let them silence me. I will not be blamed any longer. I can’t live in a constant state of happiness as long as women, animals, and the earth continue to be raped and murdered. Know that it is okay to get in dark, wild moods, to lock yourself away sometimes, and to be scared. If you can, try to reject any form of drugs (some call them chemical lobotomies). I know that some women’s pain is so overwhelming that it needs to be soothed by drugs, and that just makes me madder. Question the malestream mind-fuckers and find an alternative feminist therapist if you need to.
YES! At last, someone has the ovaries to say “malestream mind-fuckers” without a trace of irony!
My fellow so-called “psychotic” womyn of oppression, I ask that you join me in bashing the useless, male-dominated myntal illness industry.
For years, I was subjected to wrongheaded shrinks who were negligent in not recognizing that PATRIARCHY was the root of my problems. It has been a classic case of misdiagnosis. These bastards even went so far as to blame my mom, with no mention of my pigheaded father who was never around to abuse me.
I’m living proof that so-called “psychologists” are a collection of frauds! Not to mention theRAPISTS. It should be clear that the patriarchy is the downfall of womyn everywhere. But be advised: my voice WILL be heard!!!! I will not stand idly by while men exist, er, that is, while men continue to harbor so much control over my precious myntal health. Those bastards are hiding in my air-ducts, like the bugs that crawl out of the shower at night sometimes to mock me.
So-called “doctors” told me to take pill after pill, yet nothing changed in the world around me. Why didn’t they make everybody else take a pill, huh? The fuckers!
In fact, I was sometimes physically tied-down and forced to take pills by vile heteronormative fascist womb-butchers!
By all means, consult with womyn mind-healers only. Only a womyn could possibly have the intelligence and competence to properly handle a womyn’s myntal health. Not that there’s any difference between the brains of men and women, mind you. Except that the male brain is pitiful and limited, while the female brain is not. And no different from it.
Someday, when we achieve a proper utopia of ekwalitee, I’ll feel better. But until that day, I can only suffer in silence without complaining because I refuse to complain about anything.
Dont listen to anyone who claims to be from an asylum or the police. They are secretly in league with the saucer-people who scheme to pump poison gas into your house through the toaster!
And don’t let anyone tell you that you’re a raving crackpot who badly needs so-called “professional help”!