If you’re not familiar with the term “misogyny” you have probably missed the fact that the “feminist” movement started a few eons ago or you aren’t tuned in to Hillary Clinton’s campaign to overcome it in what she and others describe as the “War on Women”. Misogyny is, of course, defined as a hatred of women. What you probably don’t know (because you’ve likely never heard it) is that there is a male version of this term, “misandry”. So, you may ask, what does all this have to do with the price of tea in China? Fair question.
I decided on the title of this post because I just came across an old copy of Ogden Nash’s poetry which included his famous, “Candy is dandy but liquor is quicker” poem. And, of course, misandry rhymes far better with dandy than does mysogyny. And I love introducing my readers to arcane and otherwise obscure bits of vocabulary. But beyond all this, there is a method to my madness which has less to do with politics than it does with living in a civilized society.
It’s a good thing that mysogyny (and I guess misandry) exist – or at least are perceived to exist. If it weren’t for them, those who talk the most about the subject(s) would be utterly tongue tied and have nothing to say. As it is, they have, in my opinion very little to say – but they still insist on saying it at great length. Thank goodness for freedom of speech.
But if misogyny exists is it, perhaps, inherent in our vocabulary itself? Maybe this is the reason that the left considers one of their major objectives to refine, sanitize, delete and alter our language so that it conforms to their view of how the world should be, rather than the way it is. I first noticed this “purification” process beinning about twenty years ago when I was watching the Kentucky Derby. Suddenly, I was struck by the singing of Stephen Foster’s My Old Kentucky Home.
The original of Foster’s work read:
The sun shines bright in the old Kentucky home.
‘Tis summer, the darkies are gay.
One lawmaker in Kentucky found the words “darky and darkies” to be offensive and got a bill passed which altered the author’s original work to read “people”, replacing these two terms throughout the song. On the surface, as attitudes and speech have changed since the mid-nineteenth century when the song was written, this might be more reflective of the way we think and speak today. Although one can hardly imagine what the verbage of this song might look like if it fell in the hands of what we euphemistically describe as “rap artists”. While they were at it, one can only wonder why they didn’t also alter the term “gay” to read straight and LGBTQ – but it’s hard to rhyme those terms I guess.
Unfortunately, like so many things that people who are self-described as “politically correct” missed is that they didn’t understand what motivated Foster to write this song. Most people, on hearing My Old Kentucky Home envision a song about the idylic pre-bellum South with ladies twirling parasols as they are escorted on the family manse by the young beau who is courting them. In fact, the song is a lament sung by a slave who has been sold from his Kentucky birthplace to a new master in the deep South who will make him work in the sugar cane fields and probably meet an early death.
But returning to misogyny for a moment in view of the dedication of some to expurgate our language so that only permitted terms can be uttered (and I suspect their theory is that if we can’t say it we won’t think it), a recent sad event occurred which seems to have gone under the radar of the “Thought Police”. That tragedy was the shooting of NYC police officer Randolph Holder and remarks made by film actor and director Quentin Tarentino’s comments at what might be best described as an anti-cop rally held in NYC a few days after the officer’s murder.
Police departments and associations throughout the country called for a boycott of Tarentino’s forthcoming movie and any further projects in which he might be involved. I happen to be vaguely unfamiliar with Tarentino’s works. The last one that I saw was Pulp Fiction which was released in 1994. When I say that I saw the movie it would be far more accurate to say that I saw a bit less than one half hour of it before I walked out. Some friends dragged me to the movie but I found the language and violence to be way over the top – so I left. Fortunately, there was a bar across the street so I enjoyed a few single malt Scotches until the movie let out and my friends joined me.
Now we return to political correctness. While I thoroughly support the police in their effort to show their displeasure by withholding their hard earned dollars from flowing directly into the coffers of a director who obviously has high disregard for them and the job they do, isn’t their effort in organizing a “boycott” inherently misogynistic? Why isn’t it called a “girlcott” or the more inclusive “peoplecott”?
As most of those on the left are hoping that they can change the world into what I view as a miasmic fantasyland, I think I’ll just call it an Epcott.