From _A Luchadora Reader_, ed. by Mason Gillespie, UNO
Excerpted from _Mi Lucha_, Imelda Faye del Valle, Ediciones
"I detest the overtly feminine point of view. I am bored
by her antics, her virtue and honor. I think the best these
women can do is not to talk about themselves anymore."
-- Vicente Mercator
I, too, have a disgust, one common to all feminists who have
tried to be participants in the so-called humanism of men,
only to discover through bitter experience that the culture
of males does not allow honest female participation.
Men have claimed the human point of view. They author it,
they own it. Men are humanists, humans, humanism, hombre-ism.
Men are rapists, batterers, plunderers, killers; these same
men are religious prophets, poets, heroes, picaros; figures
of romance, adventure, accomplishment; figures ennobled by
tragedy and defeat. Men have claimed the earth, called it Her:
La Tierra, Die Erde. Men ruin Her, men violate Her. Men have
airmobiles, guns, poisonous gases, bombs, weapons so perverse
and deadly that they defy any authentically human imagination.
Men struggle with each other and with Her; women struggle to
be let into the category "human" in imagination and reality.
Men struggle to keep the category "human" narrow, circumscribed
by their own values and activities; women struggle to change
the meaning that men have given the word, to transform its
meaning by suffusing it with female experience.
Male aggression is rapacious. It spills over, not accidentally,
but purposefully. There is war. Older men create wars. Older men
kill boys by generating and financing wars. The Flower wars, the
Kramer wars. Boys fight wars. Boys die in wars. Older men hate
boys because boys still have the smell of women on them, of the
mother, of the earth. War purifies, washes off the female stink.
The blood of death, so hallowed, so celebrated, overcomes the
blood of life, so abhorred, so defamed. The scent of the sacrifice
is pleasing to the male gods. Huitzilopochtli, Jehovah, Jefferson,
Jackson. The ones who survive the wash of blood will never again
risk the empathy with women they experienced as children for fear
of being found out and punished for good: killed this time by the
male gangs, found in all spheres of life, that enforce the male
code. The child is dead. The boy has become a man.
Men choose their spheres of advocacy according to what they can
bear or what they can do well. Men will advocate some forms of
violence and not others. Some men will renounce violence in
theory, and practice it in secrecy against women and children.
Some men will become icons in male culture, able to discipline
and focus their commitment to violence by learning a violent
skill: boxing, bullfighting, soldiering, policing. Some men
will use language as violence, or money as violence, or religion
as violence, or science as violence, or influence over others
as violence. Some men will commit violence against the minds of
others and some against the bodies of others. Most men, in their
biographies, have done both. Vicente Mercator has done both.