Twenty-four years ago, I watched a police officer shoot a man. It was right outside a supermarket, the Acme Market on Route 40 in Havre de Grace, Maryland. A ferocious thunderstorm had rolled through, all noise and eerie green light, while we were shopping, and the parking lot was still flooded with rain.
Word had filtered in from the rest of the shopping plaza that a man was out there with a knife, waving it at people, menacing them. And there he was—an old man, with glasses and a Santa Claus beard—just a little ways down, to the left. I couldn't see the knife myself.
Someone had called the police, and a squad car came speeding up through the sheeted water and an officer got out. Maybe there were other officers around, in the background. It was all confusing but in certain respects it was very clear. The officer had his gun out. He shouted
Drop it at the man. From where I was, I still couldn't see the knife.
The old man didn't drop anything. He walked toward the police officer. The officer told him, loudly, to drop it, over and over. The officer backed up, gradually, from the open front door of the car to somewhere near the back of the car, gun up, in a firing stance.
Drop it.
Comment: So this is feminism? We can hardly believe it. This is merely a program of oppression and violence. Of kicking men "in the throats and groins." Of body shaming, and sexual objectification and dehumanization. And what is worse, laughing about it. This is what a female psychopath looks like. They are different than the male variety, but just as alien, disturbed and pathological. Everything is a justification, even the misrepresentation of history. Every act and thought justified, rationalized by a pathologically distorted view of history and masculinity. A complete lack of appreciation for men. Will you attach your name to this? Does this woman speak for all women?