textfiles/politics/SPUNK/sp000807.txt

The Best Of The Anarchives Volume One

"Fuck Off You Pathetic Asshole!"

Anonymously contributed

A while ago a girl asked me, what would you rather be, raped or
killed? My reply was neither. An easy answer? Maybe. She said
she would rather be raped. What she didn't know was that when
your raped the pain doesn't stop when the man walks away, the
pain never stops. At least when your killed your dead and you
can't feel anything. Sometimes I feel dead inside, numb but I
know that the numbness will thaw and eventually I will feel that
pain again and again.

I was raped when I was seven by my babysitter's son. I remember
little of the actual act I only remember the guilt, humiliation
and embarrassment I felt. I told my mother about it and nothing
was done. I even kept on seeing the same babysitter long after
the rape occurred. I confronted my mother a year ago and asked
her why she didn't protect me. She had no reply that could make
up for what had happened. So far the only people I've told about
the rape are a few close friends and my mother. I've sat by
watching some of the most horrible acts against women, not
saying a word.

The repercussions of rape are countless and buried deep in my
subconsciousness but every time a guy utters a sexist or
demeaning comment or touches me when I don't want to be touched
I feel raped all over again. Raped of my dignity and pride as a
woman. A definition of rape is a capturing or snatching away by
force. One day at school when I was at my locker a guy who I
hardly knew came up to from behind me and whispered in my ear,
"Hi, beautiful. Looking good today." Feeling trapped and
embarrassed I just smiled and he went away. That boy made me
feel beneath him, something pretty for him to look at and touch.
He made me feel cheap and mindless. He also made me feel angry
at my self for not saying, "Fuck off you pathetic asshole!" At
that moment when he was behind me with his hands touching my
waist he had power over me. he was the God of my destiny. He
raped me of my own self worth. It happens all the time to me and
women everywhere. As you're reading this right now a women is
smiling and pretending that it doesn't hurt. This has got to
stop!

People say, "Well why don't girls just tell the guy off." to
understand the answer to this you have to understand that women
have been taught to judge themselves by their appearance and not
by their brains. So some girls are actually, in a sick way,
flattered by sexist comments. Others are just afraid to say
anything because they've learned to smile and keep their mouth
shut. Recently someone told me that they're sick of women
whining about how men rape them and then they don't do anything
about it. First of all women shouldn't have to deal with this
shit in the first place. But we aren't protected so we have to
fight. An important way of fighting is to have self-respect. By
having self respect you don't let a guy steal away your self
worth. Remember you're more than a beautiful womanly body. You
also have an amazing personality, and you are way smarter than
any stupid idiot who puts you down. Get some courage and an
attitude. The next time some jock makes a comment about your
breasts tell him that he's nothing but a loser who bullies women
because he himself is insecure about his penis size, or
something to that effect. You can also take official action by
reporting any sexual harassment to a principal or councillor at
school. The most important thing is to stop feeling guilty. If
you were raped tell someone because you don't deserve to go
through the pain alone feeling isolated and embarrassed.

Women are in no way responsible for rape or sexual harassment.
These acts are committed against women by men. These acts will
never stop unless men take responsibility for what they have
done and begin to unclench their fists. Until then women must
band together and begin to fight back. For now I will tuck that
smile away into my pocket and save it for when a man treats me
with respect and as his equal.

I'm A Feminist, Dammit!

by: Laura Reynolds

	I recall a conversation Lisa and I had a couple of years ago
about the label of `feminist'. Lisa being the wise woman that
she is, insisted that she was a feminist and that I was one too.
Instantly I visualized myself as an overpowering, pushy, ugly,
and sexually oppressed woman.

	"No," I shrieked, "I'm no feminist!" But since then I've come
to realise that being a feminist doesn't mean that you have to
give up your femininity but rather that you fight for the right
to express it.

	Feminists have received a bad name mostly because of  fear.
Women have gained many rights as an organized movement such as
the right to vote. In an attempt to dismantle the woman's
movement society has created a not so appealing image of
feminists. Some men fear that feminists will take some of what
they've got, power. It's easier to remain in control if the
oppressed group stay passive. When revolt begins it seems that
the oppressor, in a desperate attempt to remain in power,
tightens their grip on the oppressed. This is evident in the
emergence of the beauty myth which has women enslaved by their
own bodies. Feminists today have a hard time balancing their own
personal ideas of beauty and still refusing to give into the
beauty myth. However it must not be forgotten that feminists
believe in equal rights. Those rights include wearing as much
lipstick as you want, wearing short skirts if you want, and
being able to get the same job any man can without being
harassed.

	Although it is beneficial that a movement contains unity, all
feminists do not have the same ideas on everything. For example
Camille Paglia thinks that by being weak women are inviting
oppression. She is also very media centred and likes modern
technology. This differs greatly from other feminists who feel
that men should take more responsibility for their actions and
others who feel the world should return to a more natural state
where women are one with nature. Just because you may oppose one
of these feminist philosophies does not mean you can't call
yourself a feminist. If you are a man or woman who believes
women are equal to men and you actually voice this opinion, then
you are a feminist.

	Some are weary of labels which they consider limiting. When I
hear this argument I wonder in amazement, what greater freedom
can you experience then fighting for your own human rights? To
me it is an honour to be considered a feminist because it means
that I am a woman who doesn't accept a subservient role in
society but rather I question and challenge it. I feel immense
pride in the struggle that women have endured to be considered
at least human and I would never forsake my own sex by denying
and forgetting all that women have fought for.

	So to all you non-believers, Feminism in your face!!



SKOOL

by: Julie Birrell

	The building is red; the burnt brick colour of a dying fire's
glowing embers. It is huge, sprawling and menacing, spread out
like a giant octopus, groping with long tentacles towards me,
reaching seductively, pulling me in. Each window winks darkly, a
thousand evil eyes watching my every move, taking in each motion
with sinister precision. Huge ancient trees stand in the shadow
of the looming building, their life and ancient glory blotted
out by the all-encompassing aura of the stagnant edifice. Wet
grass swishes as I walk slowly towards the front doors. They are
beckoning, enticing me into the somber reality of the structure.
The door opens easily, and sighs shut as if content with it's
latest capture. As the latch clicks with deadly finality, a
scent slams into my nostrils, ravaging my olfactory nerves. It
is the smell of old books, Stagnating knowledge and dead
inspiration. My fists clench as if ready for combat, I heave a
sigh that shakes my body to it's foundations and flight off the
feeling that the walls are closing in slowly, encompassing me
with the sure death of lost individuality. I move my feet up the
stairs with effort and enter the main foyer. Thus begins another
day at school.

	Unfamiliar faces swim before my eyes, mixing and melting into a
sea of flesh whose tide comes in every forty-five minutes with
the grating greetings of the bell. The bodies are merely shells.
Eyes stare blankly, taking in information, processing it,
spewing it back out in an endless, morbid cycle. I thread my way
through the crowd of walking zombies, clawing desperately for
something or someone to hold on to before sinking into the abyss
of their unified mind. Their sameness oppresses me, envelopes me
like quicksand, dry and lifeless, scratchy and
uncomfortable...suffocating.

	I see something suddenly, a breif tap of familiarity on my
peripheral vison. I turn quickly, a terrible hop blooming in my
heart. There it is: the familiar gait, a weary hand through the
hair. She smiles when she sees me-it's like coming home. I bask
in the comfortable light of her grin, feeling warmth  return to
my limbs. A small area of clean air gathers around us as we
talk, and become fresher and newer wiith each short burst of
laughter. This is my lifeline, the key that quietly unlocks the
door to survival. Alone, I fight desperately not to be overcome
by the horror of school. Together, we draw on each other, and it
eases the struggle.

	At school, I am a number. I am graded with numbers, my
futuredepends on numbers. I hate numbers. They are cold and
unfeeling, shutting out the whole experience of
emotions.Therefore, I find it hard to swallow the fact that my
abilities are evaluated woth numbers. I deserve more thatn
having it sucked out by a number. To office staff, I am a number
before a record, a record before a name, a name before a person.
I want more than that. I want more than orders from people who
simply have authority because they were numbers before me. It's
dehumanizing. I feel. I think. Why doesn't somebody realize that
I am not succumbing to the sameness, the loss of identity I want
to learn. When are they going to stop evaluating me and let me
start learning?



Anarchy and peace



by Paul Q.P.

The first realization we have to make is that we, as people are
individuals and almost infinitely diverse in our views and
philosophies. 

The second thing we need to recognize is that we, as part of an
eclectic culture\species are essentially the same in our
rudimentary needs and beliefs. For instance, most of us have a
need to fustify our existence with a purpose, or a god, or a
cause, job, partner, children etc.

On a more basic level, we all need to eat, but we all have our
particular preferences. It can be said that we are as a garden,
all brought forth from the same soil, yet all blooming into
different flowers.

The third truth of life, which is widely recognized but usually
represed, and those willing to deal with it are called morbid or
pessimistic, is that our time as individuals is extremely
limited on this rock, which some of us like to call Earth.

However, in this truth lies another, sometimes ignored yet
always around us, that our time as a species is also finite, in
fact our entire universe is said to be on a high sppeen
coolision with nothingness.  

But let us not dwell on the realities of life, it's not healthy
for a developing mind. Let us instead deal with abstractions,
they are much easier to handel.

Having realized that we are all essentially the same, while
being extremely diversifed, and that death will come probably
before we are ready for it, one must ask a few questions. Not
the philosophical dribble of 'who am I?' or 'what am I doing
here?', but something a bit more concrete; 'Who are these
fuckers telling me what to do?' or more to the point; 'What or
who gave these fuckers the right to tell me how I should live?'.

To answer such a question we need to clarify some terms. Who are
these 'fuckers'? I've heard them referred to as the ominous
'They' or 'the system' or 'bureaucrats' or 'suits' or 'the man',
but whatever we call them, the fact that they are people does
not change, to quote the proverbial slogans of CRASS;

'Systems just aren't made of bricks they're mostly made of
people, you may send them into hiding, but they'll be back
again.' But it still leaves the question of 'who are they?'
unanswered.

Well 'they' are people like you and I, that's one thing we know
for certain. Secondly they are very different from you and I
because of their upbringing, their life experiences, their
wants, their taste in food etc. Thirdly, like you and I, they
will die one day, propbably sooner than we, as they are usually
older.

We know they are people. 'So what' you might ask. You'd be
surprised at how many people seem to think of the establishment
as a big unidentifiable mass. A belief like that is not healthy
as it gives those in power the advantage of intimidation. So it
is fundamentally imperative that we recognize these 'fuckers' as
people, to get rid of the intimidation factor.

But let us get more specfic. Who are these people?  On a
personal level, they are your parents, your teachers, sometimes
your friends. They are the vice principals, the principals, the
bureacrats, the superintendents. On a larger scale they are the
police, the army, Queens Park, Ottawa, the U.N., the banks, the
managers, etc etc etc.

These people are not evil, they are not all power hungry
mingfuckers, they are not all out to get you. But a lot of them
are. It is up to you individually to recognize those who would
help you and those who would turn you into a cog in their fucked
up machinery.

Do not be irrational in your decisiions, it is always better to
get help if you can, than to do things on you own. Use the
establishment as it would use you. Remember the establishment
does have its' good points. Nothing is black and white now that
we have colour T.V.'s.

If the establishment is comprised of people like you and me than
what has sustained it for these thousands of years? Actually our
systems of government have been very unstable, experiencing
revolution almost like clockwork (take some history you'll find
out the specs). It is hard work sustaining power. So how do they
do it?

A lot of people will have you believe that knowledge brings
power. That's bullshit, as Kurt Vonnegut puts it; 'Knowledge is
so much junk to be processed one way or another at great
universities.'

Idon't mean to say that knowledge is useless and that we should
all stay ignorant, but most of the shit we are taught in schools
is useless to us, but they teach us because they need fresh
minds filled with their propaganda and bullshit to use up and
discard once they are warped beyond recognition.

Learn to learn on your own, read the books they don't want you
to read, listen to the music they censor, tell them to fuck off
with their brainwashing scam, because they will never teach you
anything that will not benefit them first.

If you think I am paranoid then you are living in a world of
dreams. Do you actually believe that your parents and teachers
and government officials are spending millions of dollars
teaching you just to give you knowledge for your own benefit?
They are scared shitless. Scared that their fucked up system
will collapse without new support, without new brainwashed
puppets. Scared because they know they eill die soon and they'd
like to live off your anything they 'give' you is for you,
they'll demand it all back, or throw you out on the street and
call you one of the unfortunates to be pitied by the rest of
society.

A lot of people maintain that money brings power. That's true,
in a sense. But money is more of a device used to sustain power,
once it has been obtained.

We are living in an age where money is the great class divider.
What are our classes based on but income? Your net financial
worth determines your place in society. If you really believe
that the government or banks or major corporations are racist or
sexist, then wake the fuck up. The bank of Canada doesn't give a
fuck if the money they get comes from a woman or mans or Black
or Indians hands. It's all the same money.

The problem is that most of the money lies in the hands of white
males. But we are fooled into thinking that there is a division
made between Blacks and Whites and Jews and Indians and
Orientals. There is no division, we are all considered a mass,
which offers those in power a way to make tonnes of money, a
plateau from which they can reap the harvest they've planted. At
tthe same time it gives us reasons to hate each other, creating
divisions, keeping us scattered and ignorant of the truth.
Unable to unite, unable to fight, the power.

Why not just make lots of money and join the elites? Because
you're dreaming if you think you will. Sure you get the
occassional lucky person winning a few million in a lotery, or
getting lucky with the stock market. But these sums are
irrelevant, unless you obtain billions or trillions you can
forget about having any impact on the structure. The few people
that do become millionaires from being poor are just symbols to
sustain the belief that it is possible to join the economic
elites, and secondly for every success story there are millions
(without exaggeration) of failures.

Knowledge is a tool you can buy, from any local university, for
a mere $10,000 or $20,000. Money is something you'll never
obtain, unless you have it to begin eith. Knowledge or money
does not bring or sustain power, they have something much more
effective. It is called FORCE. They use it all the time. Don't
believe me? You don't have to, go to your library and look up
some headlines from 1991 and 92, concerning L.A. and Toronto
riots. Even then you will not be exposed to the full scale of
their force. Next time there is a riot in Toronto (and there
will be a lot more) go downtown and check it out. Study their
power carefully; they have clubs, little guns, big guns, tear
gas, horses, plastic bullets, real bullets, little bombs, big
bombs that destroy whole cities with a single bang, anything you
might need to beat down a few thousand people.

That is the extent of their power. That is why no revolution has
succeeded without violence. But violence is no solution. It
leads to more violence. And besides the army and police have
enough force to crush any violent uprising, barring a nation
wide incident (look at Oka).

There is a more effective way, but much harder. Don't play their
game, don't let them pull you into their fucked up machinery,
think on your own, they are no better than you. Just look what
our predecessors have done to our economy, our planet, our
minds, they are vampires ready to suck your blood. Avoid them
when you can, and be quick to make friends, numbers will make us
strong, and weaken their grip. As Chuck D puts it "How to fight
the power, cannot run and hide, but it shouldn't be suicide,
Move as a team, never move alone, but welcome to the terordome".
We have to walk a fine line between becomming irrational or
getting sucked in, but don't give up hope, they've fucked up our
world, but we have to try and fix it. Anarchy can work not as a
political ideology but a way of life. We all need to be
involved, it's really fucked up out there stay together and
don't get caught up in the machinery.  

"Be exactly who you want to be, do what you want to do, I am he
and she is she but you're the only you, no one else has got your
eyes, can see the things you see. It's up to you to change your
life, and my life's up to me. The problems that you suffer from
are prblems that you make, the shit we have to climb through is
the shit we choose to take. If you don't like the life you live,
change it now it's yours. Nothing has effect if you don't
recognize the cause, if the programme's not the one you want,
get up turn off the set, it's only you that can decide what life
you're gonna get. If you don't like religion you can be the
antichrist, if you're tired of polititics you can be the
antarchist. If you don't like the rules they make refuse to play
their game, If you don't want to be a number don't give them
your name, If youdon't want to be caught out, refuse to hear
their question, silence is a virtue, use it for your protection.
They'll try to make you play their game, refuse to show your
face, If you don't want to be beaten down, refuse to join their
race, Be exactly who you want to be, do what you want to do..."

                                                        CRASS
"Big A Little a" 1980 



Out Of Touch



by Jesse Hirsh

Act One

Scene One

Setting: A english office, on a spring Monday morning. Two
characters are involved, Mr. Tenderass, a History Department
head, and Joe Schmoe, a student.



Mr. Tenderass: So you're trying to tell me that you think that
teachers are not people, or at least when they're in the
classroom they're not. Is that correct?



Joe: Yes sir. I feel that a teacher has a responsibility to his
students, and that comes first, before the teacher is a person.
This means that if a student criticizes a teacher, then he is
criticizing the teaching abilities of the teacher, not the
individual actually doing the teaching.



Mr. Tenderass: Yes I see. And you criticize one of these
teachers by saying that you chose a poem you have studied for
them because it would "freak the shit out of" that particular
teacher. Well that is not a criticism of that particular
teacher, but a personal assault. You flagrantly abused that
teacher, scaring her, knowing full well that your actions would
harm her emotionally.



Joe: But sir-



Mr. Tenderass:  NO BUTS! You must learn a lesson young man, that
it is not acceptable to criticize your teachers in that way. For
that matter I find it very disturbing that you would actually
think that teachers are not people.



Joe: Well sir, its not that I don't think teachers aren't
people, that's just the way I feel. I've been going to school
for almost fourteen years now, and for fourteen straight years
I've had teachers shove loads of useless information, useless
rules, and in this case useless assignments down my throat until
I almost choked from the lack of real substance. And if you want
me to believe that I am a freak for feeling this way, then I'm
sorry but they're are numerous others who feel the same way.



Mr. Tenderass: Well I think that you are a very unimaginative
person for thinking that way. Teachers are people too! We have
feelings you know. We're not all a bunch of Nazis or something.



Joe: I didn't say that-



Mr. Tenderass:  Whatever! You still offended Ms. Weakwilled, and
I demand that you give her an apology. After all I expect better
behaviour from an OAC student. As well I think you should
re-evaluate the way you think about teachers. It is wrong to
think that way. Now run along...



Joe: Yes sir...



Scene Two



Scene: Later that night in the bedroom of Mr. Tenderass. Mr.
Tenderass and Mrs. Tenderass are having a discussion about their
days at work.



Mr. Tenderass: So did anything interesting happen in your day
today dear?



Mrs. Tenderass: Not really. The bank foreclosed on a couple of
houses, and I approved another mortgage to a beautiful young
couple just starting off. They looked so cute. It reminded me of
you and I when we first started off. A couple of kids, just out
of the peace corps, happy 'cause we had just changed the world.
Nothing could go wrong back then. We had the energy of youth,
love beads, long hair, genuine Grateful Dead paraphenalia, a
bean sprouter, and an authentic African shirt. Your dad gave us
the money for a down payment on the house, which was very nice
of him considering he had paid for you to get through school. We
were all set for our new lives. And look where we are now. I'm
manager of the local bank, and you're the head of an English
Department. Boy would our old friends from school be jealous
now. Wow, weren't the sixties a great time honey?



Mr. Tenderass:  Yes dear they were. Back then the youth had some
direction. Not like the youth of today. For example I had an
incident earlier this morning with a student, which left me very
cross. He had no respect for his elders. For that matter he
seemed as if he had very little respect for anything at all. He
went on saying that teachers are not people, and that their
first duty is to educate. I've always felt that a teacher can be
an educator and a friend to any student in need. I learnt that
in the sixties. So this student makes a personal assasult on one
of my teachers Ms. Weakwilled, and I felt compelled to deal with
him.

	You know dear, back in our day we had respect for our teachers.
We would never swear to them or say anything out of line. We
always looked at them as the great people that they were. I mean
that's why I went into teaching. But I simply can't handle
students like this insubordinate son of a bitch who I had today.
His kind do not belong in the school system. They really mess it
up. Do you know how hard it is to conduct a class when trouble
makers like him question all that you do? It is almost
impossible for me to conduct an orderly class when student's
openly questions how I might be distributing marks in relation
to the efforts put into assignments. Why can't everything be cut
and dry? Hopefully, if the board listens to my suggestions, they
will have standardized tests implemented into high school, at
somepoint in the next three years. That will weed out, and
remove problems like that Joe Schmoe kid.



Mrs. Tenderass: Now honey buns, why don't you relax and go to
sleep. Everything will look a lot cheerier when the sun comes up.



Mr. Tenderass: Yes, I suppose you're right dearest. Goodnight.





Scene Three



Scene: Mr. Tenderass is having a dream. The dream takes place in
a school, school yard, and the rest of Mr. Tenderass'
imagination.



Mr. Tenderass: Hey! Kid! What are you writing on that wall? Hey
wait a minute come back here! I want to talk to you! Damn long
haired freak. Let's see what he wrote. "Don't trust anyone over
the age of twenty one... this incudes teachers." Why that little
punk. I'm going to make an example out of him. (Running sound
heard) I think he ran out towards the courtyard.

	Hey come back here! Don't go down that hole, I won't let you
get away. I guess I better follow after him.

	Damn it's dark in here. I can't see a thing. Maybe I better
light a match. (Match sound) Ther that's better. Where am I? I'm
in a hallway. I guess I better ask a student if they know where
that little hooligan ran off to. Excuse me? Young man in the,
ugh, vest is it? Did you see a naughty student with long hair
run by with a big marker in his hand?



Student1: No way man. I can only see the pretty lights.



Mr. Tenderass: Crack kills kid. Get out of my way. I have to
find this student and teach him a lesson he'll never forget. If
he gets away I'll never forgive myself. Hey you, the girl with
the purple sunglasses, flowers, and ugly beads, have you seen a
long haired little hooligan running with a big marker in his
hand.



Student2: Why would I want to rat on a peace loving individual
like the one you described Mr. mad English teacher sir? I mean
why don't you just take it easy man. Lay back and enjoy the
scenary dude.



Mr. Tenderass: Get out of my way you peace loving slut. I have
no time for the likes of you, I am a respected English
Department head. I have no time for your drivel. Wait! That's
the hooligan there! Running into that storage room. Come back
here your freak! Ha Ha. Now I've got you. Cornered in a one-door
room with no where left to run. Why don't you show yourself you
sniveling little beast. Let me see who you really are.... Why,
you look a lot like...Oh No, it couldn't be.... It's
me...Noooooooo.....

         /-/\-\      The Anarchy Organization      |
        / /  \ \     Free Minds For Free Lives   ( | )
     --|-/----\-\--  yakimov@ecf.utoronto.ca      \|/
       \/      \/    jterpstra@trentu.ca         `_^_'