Bill Price (Welmar) is about to have a baby. One of the things that this includes is a sense of hope — that he (and his wife) will be able to continue to raise their children and build their lives together. But one of the things you have to do is get through the gauntlet around childbirth, which includes the mandatory “men can hit you” propaganda.
So what I see at the birth center is pure, hopeful nice young parents and parents to be, and then a bunch of feminist pamphlets littering the place. It’s like dogshit in a cathedral.
Maybe I’m naïve, but I see family as sacrosanct, and I think allowing these feminists to intrude upon it right where it starts is a gross violation that calls out for punishment. The many women working at the birth center are competent, well-meaning and conscientious. I don’t blame them at all. But some higher-ups in the hospital and Washington state’s government decided to dump their trash right there — right where hopeful parents-to-be are about to experience a transformative experience that may well be the most important step in their lives.
We have to do figure out how to deal with these people. They’re a problem crying out for a solution.
When I was having children, women generally spent three or four days in hospital post baby. This meant that they got established breast feeding, that they could ask about home. We had a system of nurses visiting home — to weigh the child, check on Mum. And every Mum had a GP and midwife. Now you have one lead maternal carer, 12 hours in hospital, and propaganda.
Once you pay attention, you see it everywhere. Ubiquitous reminders of subjugation, or “ritualized humiliations” as Heartiste calls them, are the historic norm in the life for a conquered people. Liberty means that the public space is yours.
On my first maternity hospital visit, I saw pamphlets titled “Breastfeeding for African-American Women.” I resisted faux-innocently asking the nurses if they have similar pamphlets for “European-American Women.”
Also, in our LDR recovery room, there was a domestic violence poster inside the private bathroom door, presumably so that the woman could safely read it. Its list of “does your partner do this to you” items ranged from “kick you” to normal things husbands/boyfriends do like “does not let you wear what you want.”
Now, good luck finding new children’s book’s that don’t pair a white girl with a brown or black boy, or that don’t reverse traditional gender roles in the story (such as the adventurous female character coming to the rescue of the timid male character)
Yeah, destroy the hope of young couples. Tell the woman that her man can be a brute. Assume that all men are either the best… or the worst. Do not provide support for women when they need, it (such as when they have young infants) and assume that women and men are interchangeable. Destroy the culture, and destroy the next generation.
The elite need a bit of confrontation, and Ann Barnhardt has some words for these preachers of suspicion.
Look, you depraved bats. You have now destroyed the lives of fully three generations of people in Western Civilization. You have all but destroyed the institution of marriage and the family. You have murdered upwards of one billion babies in the name of your satanic cult, and you have almost – but not quite – destroyed the Church. And you know what? When you look in the mirror, it isn’t a damn bit better, is it? Not only are you not any happier, you’re actually even more miserable, aren’t you? It’s never going to get any better for you, because you will ALWAYS be a woman, because that is what you are. You will never, ever be a man, and you will never, ever be able to do the things that are exclusive to men. All you can do is present a perverted, grotesque, mutilated, piss-poor counterfeit.
I like being a female. I thank God that he made me a girl. I like that I don’t have hair growing out of my face (much). I like that the circumference of my wrist is 5 5/8ths inches and that the most that I have ever been able to bench press in my life is 135 pounds. I like wearing skirts and dresses and feminine shoes and hats and makeup. Furthermore, I wish that I had someone to submit myself to, to ask and consult and rely upon for provision and decision-making. I realize that the fact that I do NOT have a husband is not an asset to me, but rather a profound poverty and deficiency. I can accept this state in life. What I cannot accept is some 65 year old self-absorbed androgyne in a bad polyester pantsuit and hideous sandals who fancies herself my psychological better wringing every last shred of feminine consolation out of my life, and destroying my culture, my country and the Church. I resent having to act like a man because you have castrated all of the men, who now keep their shriveled balls in a jar atop their television sets. We have had enough of you and of your cultural poison. Repent and retire, or may you rot in the deep cinders for what you have done. With THIS playing on a continuous, eternal loop….
I will not inflict Doris Day on this blog. Go to Ann’s for that.
But any society that tries to destroy the hope of young couples that they can raise their children, and assumes that most men and women love each other, instead mandating that all women are asked if their husband beats them (now, if we asked all men if their wives were aggressive, there would be complaints) they should not be surprised that many young men would rather play video games and keep their sexuality in cyberspace. A society cannot continue like this. And what cannot continue, will, eventually, stop.
[…] The feminist humiliations and suspicion reach everywhere. […]