My Joseph is the quintessential perfect white son. I worry about him, his freedom and sense of agency, and the ability for him to change the world with so much stacked against him. I can’t sleep at night – I toss and turn in bed, thinking about his future.
When Joseph was five, a female teacher called him “thunder thighs.” At 12, a ghoulish older woman whistled at him, licking her lips. At Thanksgiving, his alcoholic Aunt Beatrice foamed, “You need to smile more. You and that constant resting douche face.” When he was 15, on his way to class, a gaggle of female construction workers hollered at him and said, “Nice legs. Wrap them around my head.” He ran off scared, and swore to take an alternative route.
My Joseph is a victim – like so many millions of white men – to toxic, radical feminism.
He’s 16 now, applying to colleges and keeping his nose in his studies. He’s the president of the debate team and the treasurer of our county’s student Republican club. Number one in the class, future valedictorian, I hope! I’m so proud of him, my perfect white son. He’s put up with so much toxic femininity. And look at him now: a future leader!
Social structure has inoculated him, along with all the other white men, into believing he’s a second-class citizen. He must be wire-hanger thin, demure to predatory women, and silent if a feminist sexually assaults him, especially if said feminist is about to become a Supreme Court judge.
The current political climate is precarious and filled with uncertainty for white men. Radical feminists now want to control our bodies—our means of reproduction, the thing that hangs between our legs. On Saturday, the Senate swore in a radical feminist as a Supreme Court judge. A 1973 law deciding men have the right to suppress their sperm count now hangs in the balance. These radical feminists continue to peddle in toxic femininity, striving to go back to a time when male bodies were their property.
What can we do as parents for scared white boys? Like all teenagers, Joseph wants to fall in love and hold someone dear to his heart. “Hold her so tight she can’t breathe,” he says. I tell my Joseph that he’s more than an easily disregarded body, more than a means to an end, more than a radical feminist’s conquest.
He will not go on solo dates due to the dangers of radical feminists with axes. They are hacking up our sons and mincing white male bodies like onions!
White men can no longer sit back and let radical feminists control our destiny. We will no longer be led like sheep to the slaughter. November 6th is around the corner.
Josephs everywhere must come out of their lily white shadows yelling #HimToo!
