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The Sexual Harassment Frenzy is Madness and Must Stop

 

So, about that #metoo business…

The first time I was felt up, I was twelve. I’d transitioned from the village school, which went through fourth grade, to the middle school in the next town, which hosted students from all the villages around and which was an industrial center that attracted populations from distant parts.

The peculiar system of Portuguese schools at the time was that you were allowed to fail some ridiculous amount of years before they stopped letting you enroll.  I think it was six years of failing the same grade.  So we had 18-year-olds in a school where the oldest should have been 12.

I don’t know how old the guy who felt me up was, and I don’t think I ever knew who he was.  I was just walking past and he grabbed me.

Okay, at twelve, I had a fully developed figure, but Mr. Hormone hadn’t hit the brain yet.  I had an idea of the mechanics of baby making, but no idea whatsoever of what the implications were, or that people did this for fun. And I had crushes on stars and such, but not a very good connection with the real people around me. And this was way before parents telling teachers about “bad touches,” particularly in the village.

So I should have had no clue this was a bad thing but I did.  I still remember that moment vividly and the sense of “dirty” and that I’d like to shower a lot, maybe with very hot water.  I think it was the expression in the guy’s eyes, the intent and malice in the ogling.

And yet this is not a #metoo.  I do not wish for all men to be punished because an overgrown adolescent with a weedy mustache couldn’t keep his hands to himself forty-three years ago in Portugal.

Men are not a collective organism.  No, it’s not #allmen.  Most men would rather perform self-castration than grab a 12-year-old girl. And the vast majority of those who would want to grab a 12-year-old girl who looked 18 would control themselves.

Here’s the thing, all this #metooism?  It presumes that there is something fundamentally wrong with males.  And that it’s up to males to stop all other males from behaving badly.

I have no clue where this kind of crazy comes from, except, of course, Marxism, which thinks of individuals as widgets, defined by one characteristic.  You belong to all these “collectives” and you’re supposed to keep everyone else in your collective to certain behaviors.

So, say, for instance, I’m a woman, a writer, a mother and an owner of cats.  So, by the power of belonging to those collectives, I should be able to prevent all women behaving like idiots, all of them.  I should be able to prevent bad writing or plagiarism.  I should be able to prevent child abuse and over-indulgent mothering.  And I’m the speaker for crazy cat ladies.