The Political Weaponization of Female Hysteria

By simultaneously provoking their anxieties and pandering to their egos, the establishment has conscripted leftist women as the unwitting enforcers of NWO tyranny.

As my wife recalls it, she knew the evening was bound for disaster as soon as we walked through the restaurant doors. Raised in the suburbs of Seattle, a city seemingly intent on cannibalizing itself, she is capable of distinguishing a leftist on sight - her voice thick with trepidation as we greeted the party seated and waiting for us beneath a life-sized portrait of Pancho Villa.

I was more oblivious. Although it has been over a year-and-a-half since my immigration stateside, a process greatly delayed by the Covid hoax, I am still learning to spot the subtler manifestations of progressive psychosis. As far as I could tell, these ladies (alongside a scattering of visibly testosterone-deficient husbands), were nothing more than acquaintances of my wife’s newest friend-cum-hairdresser – a friend adamant, as something of a social epicenter within our adoptive hometown, that we’d totally, totally hit it off. And at first we did, at least in that stilted, semi-apologetic way of people in their early-to-mid-thirties, only as the waitstaff cleared away the appetizers and conversation veered sharply toward politics that the extent of our incompatibility became apparent.

“It’s just gross,” said the most dogmatic of dining companions, an assessment met with a murmur of generalized agreement. “It’s like they wanna send us back to the 1800s or something, with back alley surgeries and teenage girls bleeding out across their bathroom floor. I mean, the Supreme Court knows that’s what’s gunna happen, right?”

Beneath the table, I felt my wife’s hand grip my knee. Over the course of the last two years, I have no doubt many readers found themselves, as you humble narrator most assuredly has, being forced to endure levels of stupidity far, far beyond that which they would’ve thought themselves capable. For a while, western civilization seemed ready to just about drown in it – hordes of masked zombies prowling the supermarkets, peaceful protestors torching the streets – such wall-to-wall subservience and imbecility that to challenge every instance of it would be a shortcut, first to a smack in the mouth and second, to a complete mental breakdown. It really is no exaggeration to say that learning to recognize who could and who could not be reasoned with became a survival mechanism for simply getting through the day – a mechanism, as my wife twice reminded me on our drive over, which might easily be compromised by La Casa Navarro’s notorious pitchers of frozen margarita.

Now, it would seem almost self-indulgent of me to dedicate all that much page space to the reactions elicited by my “evils of abortion” speech. By this point, I’m sure the learned reader can have little difficulty imagining how a table full of leftists responded to the news that Roe v Wade was based on a lie or Margaret Sanger’s soft spot for eugenics.

Safe to say, however, the silence.

Was.

Cacophonous.

Perhaps one day, I will properly paint for you, the wide-eyed, open-mouthed, clenched-asshole indignation of that scene, but for the moment, it seems a far more worthwhile exercise to explore why it is women – and overwhelmingly women such as these – who have fallen prey to the establishment’s emotional and psychological manipulation.

Of course, wokism (and all its component absurdities) are far from the first totalitarian ideology to target the fairer sex. One of the most significant drivers behind the Nazis’ rise to power was their ability to convince women to accept a new role within Aryan society, while more recently, ISIS and other Islamic terror groups have undergone something of a PR overhaul in an effort to attract more female recruits. Yet even with these examples in mind, neither can it be denied that, throughout modern history, propaganda has largely sought to appeal to masculine motivations. The reasons for this seem obvious. Certainly, one does not need to bow to dubious claims of male privilege or some nebulous notion of patriarchy to acknowledge that, as both breadwinners and heads of the household, it was men who have traditionally been charged with establishing his family’s political and indeed spiritual character, representing their household both on the battlefield and at the ballot box.

To twenty-first century feminists, this no doubt sounds like a grave injustice. And perhaps, by today’s standards, it is. But so too did it confer an enormous amount of responsibility, a responsibility which good husbands and good fathers endeavored to rise to so that they might form a bulwark between their loved ones and the ever-clasping tentacles of government.

That said, neither can I blame millennial women for growing disillusioned with this dynamic. It was their boomer dads, after all, who constituted the last and most watered-down iteration of this archetype, living up to their role as guide and mentor with only as much vigor as it took to open the front door, pick up the remote control, and select which three-letter bullshit artist was going to be indoctrinating his family that evening.

This tenuous oppression was obliterated once and for all, as so many things were, with the advent of social media. While the Huffington Post and the New York Times might bitch about some alleged Big Tech boys club, the fact is that it has long been women, as a majority of users (and certainly those who share and like most actively), who have determined (in accordance with Silicon Valley censors) the tone and tenor of online political discourse. Understand, I am not for a moment claiming this actually changed anything. The official policy of drone striking children overseas while indoctrinating them at home, of bleeding citizens dry while heaping insurmountable debt onto future generations remains the government’s sole raison d’etre. Now though, they pitch this scam through a feminine lens.

As subscribers to Midnight at the Matinee might remember, a couple months ago, I published a series of articles on how, throughout the course of the last century, psychoanalysis has been used by advertisers in order to exploit customers on levels they are entirely unaware of - marketing, not the actual product, but rather, the impression individuals have of themselves as the owner of that product. As both the principal purchasers of a household as well as those most motivated by self-image, it was women who were their primary targets. One need only consider Edward Bernays’s success in breaking the taboo around ladies smoking or in Ivy Lee’s rehabilitation of the Rockefellers, to see how impactful these female-centric, ego-inflating techniques were to prove - techniques every bit as explosive when applied to politics by the election campaigns of Bill Clinton and Tony Blair.

To a very great degree, it was this optics-driven approach that formed the veil behind which the double-dealings of neoliberalism were conducted, and yet, even this seems relatively benign when compared to the influence politically-encouraged emotionality has wielded in the age of the internet. After all, while Twitter, Facebook, and Reddit might (laughably) tout their platforms as a stage for the free exchange of ideas, the truth is that mainline social media exists predominantly as a tool for their predominantly female userbase to present an idealized version of themselves to the world. Even to call this ‘virtue-signaling’ is not strictly accurate. You see, however much your average feminist enjoys the warm glow of approval from their ideologically homogenous friend group, what they are really doing when they hashtag the anniversary of Trayvon Martin’s death or copy-paste their grief at the latest mass shooting, is reassuring themselves that they are the kind, decent people a vast majority of humanity sincerely wishes to be.

This is hardly an impulse limited to liberals. But while most of us obtain validation through developing a moral conscience and then acting in accordance with that conscience, contemporary leftism has stripped adherents of the ability to do either. In the propaganda-addled minds of these progressive young women, everything that society once knew to be good – serving one’s family, nurturing one’s children, helping one’s community – has become a symbol of subservience and a vestige of an inferior past.

The elite understand the resulting void better than anyone. In the same way the fashion industry fostered a generation of teenage bulimics in order to hawk them dieting fads and just as clothing stores utilize unforgiving lighting to illuminate girls’ self-diagnosed imperfections, the modern political class has propagated a culture of degeneracy and ethical relativism so that they might hold sway over a generation of women desperate to prove their moral worth. This, in essence, is the reason for femininity’s knee-jerk embrace of each new social cause/establishment interest to come down the MSM pipeline, no matter whether this cause is as self-serving as Black Lives Matter, as unnatural as transgenderism, or as suicidality altruistic as unfettered immigration.

There has been no feminine trait, however, that has been more cynically exploited than fear. Needless to say, it was during Covid when this rhetoric reached its zenith and yet, what most of us now clearly see, is that this was just the most hysterical assault in an ongoing terror campaign which has included everything from white supremacy, the undying boogieman of “climate change”, as well as the latest cabal-sanctioned delirium, monkeypox.

Rest assured, I am not trying to absolve leftist women of anything. If you’re bone-headed enough to still be tuning into CNN, The View, or God forbid, that asshat Jimmy Kimmel, then frankly, there’s only so much sympathy anyone can have. Nevertheless, I must admit that I am often struck by how many there are on the saner side of the gender debate – those of us who not only recognize the differences between men and women, but who actively celebrate them – who seem reluctant to acknowledge these differences when it comes to our ideological opponents. I mean, we wouldn’t expect a women to be able to lift the same weight as a man, let alone beat one in a fight, and neither, I contend, should we expect them to put up with the same level of emotional pressure - a pressure which has never been more invasive, sophisticated, ubiquitous, or catered to their sex’s particular frailties.

I hesitate to even describe them as such. Throughout the millennia, females have evolved, as the physically smaller and more reproductively important of the species, to flee from danger much more readily, while as the primary caregiver, they been hardwired to respond to irrational cries for help, regardless of whether those cries emanate from a hungry child, Jussie Smollett, or the MSM’s blue-eyed boy, Volodymyr Zelensky.

And I get it; liberal women are goddamned excruciating. The sad truth is that most have been so thoroughly inculcated with leftist dogma that it is going to require a full-blown paradigm shift in order to snap them back into any semblance of sanity. The one’s in the pussy hats won’t wake up even then. The period we are now living through, as more Americans are beginning to realize, is but a brief calm in the midst of the most ambitious psy-op ever conducted, and while I cannot deny the cheap thrill derived from triggering a tableful of easily-triggered feminists, so too am I careful not to lose sight of who our real enemies are.

These are the assholes funding the Gender Studies departments. They are the hack journalists and late-night funnymen spouting divisive, terrifying fictions and the vapid celebrity mouthpieces who spin fairytales of men as rape-happy oppressors. They are idealogues obliterating women’s sport. They are the so-call “philanthropists” pouring billions into warping the minds of little girls’ and they are the sick sons-of-bitches who tweet out furious condemnation of the latest Trumpian vulgarity while out browsing for sex-slaves with their buddies Jeff and Ghislaine.

I guess what I’m trying to say here, is that the tyranny which has taken shape around us is not yet being enforced, for the most part, by UN stormtroopers or Biden’s jackbooted thugs, by digital IDs or doctors knocking on your door with syringes. Rather it is being enforced by legions of propagandized, panic-stricken women. Don’t get me wrong: men have endured far more than their share of vilification, and I sure as hell don’t expect many to be lining up to scale a mountain and slay the dragon to free some blue-haired harpy who’s banged half of Manhattan. What I am trying to express, however, is that in the months that are to follow, the wall-to-wall media mindfuckery which has held so many women captive over the last two years is going to be coming at us with even greater regularity and with even greater intensity. Yes, there will hunger. Yes, there will “pandemics”, “environmental disasters”, and all manner of other manufactured crisis. None of us really know how bad it will get, but what I do know, however - or at least, the faith which I cling to - is that this storm is eminently weatherable so long as husbands, fathers, brothers, and boyfriends, once more rise to the responsibility which reality has charged us with, and again form a bulwark between the women we love and the bullies who would cruelly exploit them.

“Did you see the way that Diane looked at you?” asked my wife as we made our way back to the car, her hand outstretched and upturned. “I’m not kidding, I actually thought she was trying to make you burst into flames.”

I deposited my keys as instructed, pleased that my wife had enjoyed the evening as much as I had. Our car was parked a little way up, the lights from the downtown bars spilling out onto the street. Most were filled with students and professors from the nearby college - places I usually avoided like the plague - but now, with my whistle whetted and babysitter paid until midnight, I stopped outside, suggesting only semi-jokingly, that we might pop in for a nightcap and a debrief on who we’d found been most insufferable.

My wife smiled but kept walking. I offered up another half-hearted appeal but when that went unheeded, I followed without complaint - women far from the only gender with a few rough edges to iron out.

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