A New Kind of Anti

A New Kind of Anti:
Staring Down the Barrel of a Gun

Cut by: Davita Cuttita

Gonna get TRIBAL on your ass!

“The truth is permanent; everything else just falls by the wayside.”Dave Chappelle

As those of you who are reading regularly (whom I adore!) know, I am anti-feminist.

Now, I know some people may be wondering how a girl can possibly be “anti-feminist”, as I attest to be. This does not mean I don’t support women’s rights; you can do that without being feminist. Allow me to explain myself.

It’s not popular, it doesn’t make friends, it doesn’t get decent hits from blog readers. If you don’t like that, by all means; stop reading now and go elsewhere because it’s unapologetically me; just like the tribal warrior woman in the above photo. She’s the mirror image of who I am, deep down on the inside.

I’m not alone either. There are other excellent female anti-feminists out there I should probably go shooting with. Or at least to lunch.

I attempted to illustrate a new woman-centric mode of thought called I called “feministing” in one of my early posts; Feministing 101, but in my opinion, I grappled terribly with the issue and as of late, have been re-thinking my usage of my personal redefinition of that word.

When I was about eight or nine years old, a friend of mine introduced me to a magazine called Lunar. It was a feminist magazine for little girls and we would read them voraciously in the library each time they released a new edition. I firmly identified myself as a feminist then and continued to do so until I was about sixteen and cut it off completely.

Looking up to Mom and getting rid of Barbie (which I never owned) just wasn’t enough anymore.

Knowing I didn’t have to live up to society’s standards of beauty and knowing that I could be and do whatever I wanted when I grew up wasn’t enough anymore.

Feminism is not for everybody. If you read the fine print, it says so.

We have to remember the bones of feminism, its structure, its medulla—is all about improving the status of the middle class White woman so she may be like the White Man. When it extends its hands to coloured people, it says “Come, be like the White man”.

This is where it gets messy because in general, the White man holds the majority of the power and wealth in the world and we soon begin to think that being intelligent, having wealth, having rights, having power—a voice—is a White trait inherent to the White man.

This of course; is not true. Power, wealth, intelligence, freedoms and rights are not White traits but thanks to slavery, genocide, racism, prejudice, stereotyping and many other factors; sexism included; White males (and females) do have a considerable leg-up priveledge wise. However, many of us are still programmed to believe the aforementioned are inherent White characteristics and live by this; without even realizing it. It has penetrated every aspect of our lives; it is in our homes, on our television sets, in our history books, our (beauty) magazines, and our places of worship.

“Come, be like the White man! Share his values! Agree with his rules! Learn his history! Look like him! Worship him!”

I saw this and I snapped. I decided to bite the hand that feeds.

I am aware that there are branches of feminism for African American Women. I am not African nor American.

I am aware that there are branches of feminism for Black women, Coloured women; but I still could not follow the Siren’s call because something was STILL WRONG. I could see I was heading for the rocks and fought for dear life.

I am a Jamaican woman at heart. Although I came to Canada as a child, I still was raised in the same manner and instilled with the same values as any other Jamaican girl. Although, I still do have my own individual ideals on some issues; personal, spiritual and social; some no doubt a result from living in this society.

A lot of feminist values/issues—abortion, redefining and broadening gender roles, challenging the beauty standard—do not apply to my homeland. Why? Because as a collective, Jamaican people are working too hard to survive. Many of them have traditional Christian values despite their level of religiousness or lack thereof. You could be dead tomorrow from a bullet to the brain for something trivial. Jamaica has a population of two million–the same as the city of Toronto. Yet, from January 2008 until now over 480 people have been killed by gun violence and gang warfare. In Canada, with it’s population of 33 million people 54 people are killed each year by gun violence.

Feminism? These people need food, water and medication. So much of feminism goes against the grain of my Jamaican culture in a manner that either consciously or unconsciously realigns our values and traditions with the “understandable, common, infallible White, Eurocentric, wholesomeness” and I will not submit to it.

I am not denying that feminism has/had a (minimal) presence in Jamaica, but that presence is simply overshadowed by crushing poverty, violence and death. I have lost many loved ones to gunfire, disease and destruction. I still have loved ones there, suffering in a grip of poverty and starvation and although I do my best to send money, keep them alive; it’s not enough.

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse keep riding my island’s tropical breeze.

A lot of Black feminist scholars from America or other parts of the Caribbean have commented on Jamaica, but I can’t seem to find even half a dozen Jamaican feminists doing the same…anywhere.

Maybe they exist(ed), maybe they don’t.

I want to be the woman nature intended. I do not want to be like anyone else. I want my God given rights, not the White ones—they are lies. These same false doctrines are the legs of feminism, the same legs that stepped on the throats of my ancestors years ago.

About a week ago, I watched a documentary entitled The Greatest Silence: Rape in the Congo. The writer, director and producer, Lisa F. Jackson is a White woman who had been raped in America and it was heartbreaking to watch her journey. A common repercussion of these violent sexual encounters are the shredding of the walls between the uterus and bladder due to men forcing hot coals, sticks, branches and even guns into the woman’s vagina in an attempt to maim her after rape. These women become ill, incontinent and some die as medical treatment is received only by the lucky few. Others become infected with STDs, including AIDS and HIV or become pregnant. All are stigmatized by their society. During one segment of the film, we see a young mother feeding and caring affectionately, lovingly; for the daughter that resulted from her violent rape—what will be her fate when she becomes a young woman? We also see the faces of children who are abandoned and orphaned…two year olds who have been raped crying; their traumatized minds believe the video camera is a gun.

At two points during the film, with a guide and some U.N soldiers, Jackson is able to interview a group of rebel soldiers who have committed numerous rapes. One of her questions introduces the Western, (White), feminist perspective. She asks “Why do you rape? Is it about power or sex?”

Alas, the translator says the man does not understand this question—his level of education and intelligence disenfranchise him. He cannot comprehend this intellectual discourse. He just wanted to have sex and this was the only way for him to achieve it, as far as he was concerned.

Feminism? These women had to stand up to forces that would make a feminist, hell, an ordinary person piss themselves. They’ve had LOADED WEAPONS shoved up their genitals, survived maimings, bore children and continue onwards with chores, child-rearing and making money. Some of them continue onwards with school, with learning trades so they can support themselves. How do these women keep doing this on their own accord without feminism?

Because they want to survive, they want to live, they want to be the woman of their own dreams; not a definition or redefinition.

Feminism? Whatever! UNICEF and Always Maxi Pads have done more for all these women than feminism has ever done or ever will do for them. Most feminists just want a safe place not to look at the colour of your skin and take it seriously; anyway.

Racial issues? Minorities? Police beating a Black man to death?


Hey, I didn’t make this up; they did say it.

I spoke with Grandpa Dinosaur over the phone the other night, stating that I thought she might be becoming a feminist. I believe we were inconclusive on the matter and jokingly made the analogy that it was like an action movie where the bad guy and good guy put their differences aside for a moment and work toward a common goal before turning against each other in the end. She responded that she’d rather do that—work with someone who’s intentions she didn’t find completely admirable, than fight alone.

I’m different. I’d shoot the “bad guy” in the face, ransack his corpse for ammo and weaponry, then continue with my war. He would’ve shot me if I was of no use to him to begin with. Hell, he would’ve shot me for my gun! Right in the back of my skull, too; like a coward so I had no chance of defending myself. Perhaps Brownfemipower can vouch for me on this one, right Amanda?

Just to clarify something quickly;(because I know internet people love themselves SO MUCH that whenever you say something negative about something they like or follow, they assume you are insulting them personally) I do not hate feminists.

AGAIN: I do not hate feminists. That is all.

As Coloured People, we do suffer considerably and racism is still very much alive. However, in a lot of ways we still have things to be grateful for, as most; if not all followers of feminism have the good luck of residing in one of the G8 Nations.

We do not have to worry about being taken out of our beds at night and sold into slavery (again). We do not have to walk with a male escort or friend to most locations during our day out of fear of rape like the women in the Congo. We make more than a dollar a day unlike the other 3 billion people in the world and have running water, some sort of food, electricity and even when we do not have these things, there are plenty of places to go to achieve them. Furthermore, we have the chance to go to school, work and improve our quality of living; even if it’s just a new TV, pair of jeans, cup of coffee at Starbucks or a pack of gum. We have the education and luxury to even understand what the word ‘feminism’ means and discuss it freely and openly.

We are still a proud few. We are part of the global 20%, the one billion and change that consumes 86% of the world’s resources.

Because of this, Feminism; no thanks.

I cannot support you when you cannot, will not, will never, understand my culture or any non-Western one for that matter.

I cannot support you when you are just another part of the Eurocentric machine; extending thine arm into the values and psyches of the world and painting them all White.

I cannot support your inability to call bullshit on yourself.

I cannot support you as your intellectual high-horse bars so many.

I cannot support your voice for the few and the “despite of race” you incur.

I cannot support your ignorance of the world.

I cannot support your inapplicability to so many non-White cultures.

I will not let the children die in silence anymore.

I will not move in movements or play in politricks; I will do the Right thing and the Realistic thing.

The Truth.

I will do my best with my education, resources, time, strength, faith and willingness to work hard for and understand others, there will be no more seperation and compartments for problems; only justice.

For a long time, I lay in wait. You made a big mistake, Feminism.

Because I have unwavering realism and am unmerciful of the Western Machine’s attempts at Whiting us all out, labelling and dividing; then lying to us; saying that it was “empowerment”.

I have never lost my taste for survival and cunning. I’m Jamaican, it seems you’ve forgotten!

But I am neither bitter nor hateful. At the same time; I am not sorry.

I have your weapons now.

I am not like the others…I am not afraid to use them and can guarantee just one thing:

I will aim for the forehead.


~ by davitacuttita on April 30, 2008.

4 Responses to “A New Kind of Anti”

  1. Thanks for this. I really needed to read this right now.

  2. You’re very most welcome, thanks for reading. I really needed to write it.

  3. Oh my word, why didn’t I know about you before?? This was just marvellous, I have been ranting about this forever, all be it as a white, privileged woman. I HATE that none of these women realised just how bloody lucky they are to be able to spend their BICKERING when people are dying! Anyway, thanks for putting it so dam well.

  4. Hello Eve,

    I’m happy you enjoyed the post! It took me a very long time to put these thoughts into words and am so pleased that you agree and understood what I was trying to say.

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