Like so many people, I’ve been watching the thermonuclear war that’s begun within the Republican Party with my heart in my throat. Much has been written about the large numbers of voters rallying behind the current GOP front runner — including the overall indictment of the Left Behind Economy that is killing the middle class — and the particular brand of evangelicals that favor Ted Cruz.
Political talking points between these two candidates have been dominated by sexist comments recently, concerning these men and their wives, and who has the hotter wife, and the GOP front runner also commented that women who receive abortions ought to be punished.
Plenty of people reacted with horror, watching this drama unfold, and I’m not the only one who’s decided listening to the news has become a miasma, with radioactive clouds of hate blowing everywhere.
Then there is my personal life. Small and mundane. So far away from the events taking place between these two political candidates — but so intimately close all the same.
A man I know, a Republican who supports the GOP front runner, recently upset me a great deal. He lives in Durango. He did something extremely inappropriate. This unmentionable something involved sexual content, a phone, and the debasement of women I do not know. In my opinion, this man did something cruel, though he viewed his behavior as good fun, nothing that caused any harm. I saw the essence of his attitude being reflected in the news, and I’m sure he did too, like a sick stamp of approval.
What the man’s behavior made clear was that he sees women as objects. Brainless toys. Human beings so lesser, they exist within a frightening paradox — on the one hand, he is focused on having sex with as many of them as he can. On the other, they are so far beneath him, they are nothing at all.
Which is also the ethos of modern pornography. The universe of adult films has seen an upsurge in portrayals of violent, debasing sexual acts against women. A long list of activities with names that conjure violation and shame.
I’m so alienated from the porn industry, and the plethora of new videos produced every year, that my contact and awareness is limited to what I glean from the news and my friends. My isolation is vital, a determination to keep myself sheltered from the horrors of that world, because the few exposures I’ve had to adult films just scar me for life. My empathy level is too high to witness that kind of degradation and pain. It’s the opposite of arousing to me.
Not so for this man who upset me.
He adores the porn industry, especially the proliferation of free porn. He also struggles to stay housed and employed. He drives a flashy car he can’t afford. He hangs out in bars, charging drinks.
He owns a Colt .45. And a rifle.
To look at him, you probably wouldn’t assume he lives with constant eviction, playing roommate roulette. He’s 38 years old, unmarried, childless. And still falling deeper and deeper into debt. He dresses well. He has a super nice phone. And his electronic device can transmit — via email and messaging — sexual images and videos I can only call living hell.
So today I channeled my outrage and horror into a poem. Because sometimes the only place for emotion that strong is a poem.
Violent pornography is everywhere, and it’s being consumed by children and teens as well as adults. For the young, the videos are a sex ed class. The effect of these films on our youth is as scary as the thermonuclear war taking place within the Republican Party. Both are part of a cultural matrix we’ve built for ourselves, nailed together with a warped lumber.
Which is the point of my poem. It’s telling a story about the material we use to assemble a culture. And the ugly complicity of missed expectations.
Honestly, you women have it easy
Compared to me
But you call me toxic
The one who can’t ever succeed
No matter how hard I try
The house, the picket fence
The two-car garage someone shipped overseas
While I went on unemployment
I take the blame
Wear the failure
You complain I want you
To be skinny, with nice tits
And makeup and long shiny hair
Like the girls in the triple X films
And I do
At least you can starve yourself
Bleach your hair
Shave your event pass
The ticket I mangle and pound
To make you scream like the women
Who get paid to lie down and
Take a beating
But I can’t just
Explode in your face
Ruin your makeup
Watch you smile
Through my mess
You expected a castle
Diamonds and gold
A bloodline, a carriage that would gleam
In the sunset
You told me I needed those things
To be Charming
But I’m never gonna be rich, baby
Never gonna ride a white horse
Doesn’t stop you
Pointing your finger
Saying this is all my fault
You’re the one shaving
You’re the one putting on all that makeup
You starve, and I eat
But no matter how many ribs I can count
Your bones won’t alchemize into gold
And maybe I’m not big enough
Not hard enough
To throw down my dignity
For minimum wage
Dressed in a loud, tacky uniform
Sewn with shame
But I can still make you scream
My rage measures up
Even if the rest of me never will
You see my fists, girl
The bullets I load in my gun
I can spray them in your face
Just as easy
So don’t you dare tell me
I’m the toxic one here
You’re the one
Who made me
To the fairy tales