Women are Like Cakes:

The contemporary woman must surely be even more paradoxical than the nineteenth-century woman.

On the topmost layer rests the force of thousands of years of tradition, spread thin, like an icing prepared separately, for it holds little substance in the eyes and ears of illiterate millennials. This cream is composed of all of the “archaic prejudices” for a woman’s virtue: sensitivity, passivity, meekness, vulnerability, dependency, maternity, receptivity, elegance, and grace. It is by no mistake that these are also the words of poetry and artistry, yet just as the Philistine dismisses fiction as “made-up stories”, so the feminist dismisses femininity.

Beneath the cream, therefore, there rests the hardened crust: the modern politic of feminism. Its forerunners, foremost among whom is the fiery, ram-like Emma Watson, are more than happy to jump on the post-modern train of deconstruction, if you’ll pardon the mixed metaphor. To them, or leastwise ACCORDING to them, “woman” is a being independent of those roles “assigned to her” by expectation, whether it is natural or social. Regardless whether the “good girl” originates within a social order led by men or in the sexual psyche which men inhabit, she is invariably a mask forced upon the female body.

As such, the “natural qualities” of femininity, as they’re expressed upon the topmost layer of our cake, are mere persona, and they express neither the Facts of Nature (for postmodernism rejects all such facts, though millennials simply pick and choose which facts to believe in, citing Science here and Philosophy there, arbitrarily) nor an Intrinsic Imperative to Conform to Society (for postmodernity also rejects all attempts to “create Social Order”, and millennials, likewise in Ethics as in Facts, pick and choose their utopian projections, arbitrarily). Thus the feminist, quite literally, expresses “all which is wrong with Society”, since her episteme implies the rejection of any possibility of “being [objectively] Right”, either according to Nature or Nurture, as well as either Fact or Ethic: What Is or What Ought to Be. Woman “is” nothing, intrinsically, except for what she wills herself to be, and it is not so that she OUGHT to will herself to be either one thing or another; if anything, the feminist posits: “you ought NOT to concern yourself with what you ought to be, except by your own estimation.” It sounds almost noble, but that there can be no promise of reconciliation with men under such circumstances.

When one digs even a centimeter beneath this crust, it comes as no surprise that feminists care little for accommodating men, since they are often forced NOT into cooperation with them, as was the old paradigm, but rather into competition. The bulk of the upper layers of the modern woman’s psyche are the fresh realm of the contemporary Career Woman. Divorced from her domestic roots, the modern woman finds her entirely egocentric point of reference in Wonder Woman, a sort of perversion of Superman whose only distinctly “feminine” strength is her ability to always get the “Truth” out of wrongdoers. By all accounts, the Warrior Princess stereotype, not really an archetype, though it is treated as such, is simply the dated male role in a female body. Yet this is an apt caricature of the Career Woman whose blazer is simply a suit jacket tailored to the upper half of an hourglass. Just as Corporate Culture engenders in effeminate boys an unnatural aggression, so it does for Woman, who becomes indoctrinated in the martial laws of Social Darwinism in the Work Force. How can any political theorist mistake feminists for Marxists? Only by analogy to the Dark Side of Communism.

Thus we ought not to be surprised that, underneath the veneer of the corporate go-getter, we again find the vulnerable Mother, the disowned Daughter, the scorned Sister, and an entire pantheon of uniquely feminine archetypes (some posit nine in number) which outnumber the relative simplicity of the traditionally male role, rendering its lazy conversion into female derivatives much more insulting. Who would want to be a merely hackneyed perversion of the “Warrior” archetype under the paradigm of Modern Warfare, especially when one could become instead the Queen of Light? Perhaps I speak from effemininity, but I envy the “archaic” girl.

Thus we discover that the topmost layer of adornment on the modern woman, one so oft omitted or brushed off, for it is deemed to have neither substance nor nutritional value, is in fact that juice which drips from the very base of the cake. It was not that men fashioned women in their own image, but that they admired them in their most natural state, and it was by adherence to Nature that expectations developed, for expectation is the lifeblood of Society, and expectancy is the very womb from which all decency springs forth. In offending the superficial persona, Emma Watson also offends that furnace wherein the mask was fashioned, as well as the passions which kept it warm. It’s not ironic, though it is poetic, therefore, that, just as English philosophers found in Zen Buddhism a release from the machismo of Western Life, so it is that modern American fans of Japanese Anime can point to a phenomenon seldom revealed in Western Media: the stereotype of the tsundere. The tsundere woman is hard on the outside but soft and damaged on the inside. Beneath what she pretends to be, there is that all-too-human vulnerability christened the Divine Feminine.

[({Dm.R.G.)}]