Guys, Watch out for these three types of feminists

Cyprian Nyakundi is a well known (some would say ‘infamous’) blogger who writes on all sorts of controversial subjects. Recently, after radio manager and personality Caroline Mutoko posted a congratulatory note on social media to comedian Chipukeezy for landing some continental gig, Nyakundi went hammer-and-tongs after all the men he accused of hanging onto women’s ‘thongs’ to get to success.

He referenced personalities from Maina Kageni to Walter ‘Nyambane’ Mongare. But if not for Caroline Mutoko, and her ‘discovery’ and giving opportunity to artistic talent, Shaffie Weru may well be a sound man in ‘Radio Africa’ or Jalango be stuck telling his jokes to fellow broke jesters in the parking lot of the Kenya National Theater.

Everyone of us needs a mentor/benefactor to open up certain ‘spaces’, give opportunity for one to showcase talent to the wider world. That is why Caroline was such a great choice for Safaricom’s ‘Blaze’ talent show on television. But then there is the brand of so-called ‘feminists’ out to cut the cojones of men, everywhere where they can find them. These are a dangerous lot. So let me outline three types.

The NGO activist feminist

This type are often single moms or divorcees, successful in their professional life – but failures in their personal lives, especially when it comes to relationships with members of the opposite sex. And they are determined to spread the misery. Woe betide thee if they have you in their gun sights, especially if they work for a ‘feminist’ NGO. Many will seek to take only prominent men to court, or misadvise their female spouses in front of television cameras – so that they can forward these video clips to their paymasters and mistresses abroad to ‘get dough for the last quarter of the year beginning October 1, 2017.’

The professorial prude crude feminist

These ones have ‘absorbed’ an atmosphere of contempt or hatred for men through painful personal experiences combined with schooling themselves on misandry (‘misogyny’ against men). Maybe her dream man slept with her sister, or walked out on her many years ago. Maybe she is barren, and stuck with some funny weed-smoking idiot as a ‘partner’ (who calls himself a painter, but really, he just mooches off her).

In any event, she is bitter as nuclear rain over North Korea. And her language is peppered with choice clichés from fringes of the feminist movement. ‘Stop mansplaining yourself from your corner of male privilege within the hierarchy of male patriarchy and consider this a teachable moment,’ she will sneer, the corner of her mouth hanging like a turd stuck there.

What she means is because of that thing between your legs, you possibly cannot have a point.

The ‘artist’ feminist

These ones consider themselves artists because they have set up a blog called ‘Diary of An Angry Lady’ where they can self-indulge with mean musings of misandry (male bashing), but at the cocktail party will introduce themselves as ‘feminist essayists.’

Or it could be that ugly poetess with shaved head hair (like one fresh from a prison with lice) but hirsute chicken hanging out from under both armpits (smelling of sweat because her kind of ‘feminism’ does not believe in either brasseries or underarm anti-perspiration products) – not knowing that ‘naturalista’ is meant to be a look, and not a smell. ‘My lesbian breasts,’ she will shriek at an open-microphone poetry event (where the title of the poem should be, in all honesty, ‘My mosquito bites.’). Because, of course, she is pro-LGBTQ (Lesbian, Gay, Bi, Trans-Sexual and Queer), on top of being feminist.

If as a man you dared bring up the fact that the most serious problem facing the country today may be constitutional crisis in forty days time or that a hundred thousand per Kenyan in foreign debt that will haunt our children’s lifetimes when the Chinese come calling, you’ll be shushed.

‘The refusal to provide public toilets for the trans-gendered and the male patriarchy’s oppression of cis-gendered blogger poetess lesbians …’There’s no winning, or even reasonable discussion, with these neurotic types of femi-nazis.

If she says, “I’m a feminist,” do an about-face and walk away fast. She has complete and total antipathy for all males, and thinks your opinions lie in the No Man’s Land, pun unintended, between ‘Useless’ and ‘Irrelevant.’ As a friend and former senator (who once worked in Human Rights) told me three years ago: “That is why I never attended even ONE party I was invited to by those funny ‘feminists.’ ”

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