Feminism: A simple case of adult P-envy?

Are we all suffering today because 50 years ago a few women wanted their own male appendages?

I am not a psychologist. I think that much is clear :-)
But there are certain aspects of psychology that strike a chord with me.
In today's post, I am specifically interested in developmental psychology.


I remember that in the post on MGTOW, I was baited into questions to the tune of 'do you wish you were a man' or some variation thereof, and I quipped back saying those days were long gone.

By 'those days' of course, I meant 'under age 5' kind of days.
Those days when I was fascinated by how high some of the boys in my kindergarten class could pee.
And being dismayed that I couldn't do the same :-)

Some of the more unkind men reading this might say, 'things haven't changed much, then, Spacetraveller'...
But I assure you they have!

As soon as I started sprouting strange protuberances on my own chest, I forgot all about high-pee boys.
Or rather, my interest in them changed somewhat. Let's just say I was no longer interested in how high they could pee anymore :-)

My point is, I moved on from one developmental milestone to the next, in a fairly typical fashion. I was, in this case, firmly within the Gaussian distribution.

I stopped having p-envy when puberty kicked in for me, much in the same way as a boy leaves behind his mother in his Oedipus complex when he becomes a man and seeks his own female company. In fact, p-envy ends well before puberty if I am not mistaken.

Now, I realise feminism is not as simple as all that.
It has many facets I know nothing about.
It is a bigger political animal than I give it credit for.

But I am going to concentrate on a small aspect of feminism which could explain a lot.

I was watching British boxer Amir Khan give a little 'masterclass' on boxing to two reporters who were doing a documentary on him. The reporters were male and female.
After the boxing masterclass in a gym-like setting, the two reporters were put into a boxing ring for a mock boxing match, with Amir Khan as the referee.
It was absolutely hilarious to watch.

The man was only marginally better than the woman at boxing, and one could clearly see that he was being chivalrous and allowing the woman to land punches on him for comic effect.
In fact the reason it was so funny was that her punches were so wildly out that even a blind boxer would have been able to avoid getting hit, and he, to (over)compensate, was actually getting into position in such a way that those ridiculously off-target punches would land on him.
He was not managing to get any punches in himself, because he was too busy receiving hers.

To make it even more hilarious at the end, Amir Khan declared her the winner, his explanation being that she was the only one actually landing punches. Which was technically true.

I laughed so hard, I was in physical pain at the end of this boxing 'match'.

But, after the laughter came the overwhelming sadness.

This little 'charade' I had just witnessed demonstrated in no uncertain terms what has been lost, perhaps for good, in this modern era.

Chivalry. Lighthearted banter and 'friendly fire' between the sexes.

The male reporter hadn't really been 'beaten by a girl', of course. It was plain for all to see. The two were complicit in creating this little 'act' for the entertainment of the TV audience.
The woman made a big show of 'winning'.
The guy looked suitably crestfallen and even made a little 'attempt' to appeal to Amir Khan who was having none of it: his decision was final.

Everything was made funnier by the fact that this guy was like, twice the size of the girl, and even taller and bigger than Amir Khan himself. It was like the characters in this 'charade' had been handpicked for maximum comic effect. It worked. I laughed until it hurt.

This woman was 'validated' by the guy much in the same manner my friend had ''respected" the men at the dinner party in her home. No cost to the giver. But invaluable to the receiver.
It was easy enough to do, knowing my friend. It didn't cost her anything to 'respect' the men.
It was goodnatured fun. It made a nice evening extra special.

To state the obvious, more and more, that sort of thing is getting lost in modern society.
Like Tango dancing.
Exchanges between men and women are less cordial than before, for sure.

It seems the only time there is passable civility between the sexes is when one party wants something from the other.
A man may validate a pretty stranger just so he can get her to a four-poster in double-quick time.
A 'not so nice' girl might put on her 'nice girl' face just long enough to get a man to commit, and then shortly after, this Medusa appears from nowhere.
There really is no such thing as a free lunch anymore.

Yes there was plenty wrong pre-feminism. This is why I have a healthy respect for first-wave feminism which brought me certain rights that my female ancestors from a hundred years ago would never have dreamed about.

But then things got all crazy and weird, and now both women and men are worse off.
Because today, a man in that male reporter's position would find nothing wrong in knocking out  a woman half his size within two seconds of the boxing 'match'.

Some of his charming brothers might even cheer him on chanting, 'kill the b*tch!'
This very scenario unfolds all the time in The Manosphere.

The following three lines are a shameless lament of the death of decorum. I know the causes of this, but point no fingers. Ever the (not so) quiet observer, I feel I am as much part of the problem as the next guy (or girl).
A sinking ship not long ago...
The heavily pregnant women on trains and buses who can't find a seat...
The old lady who passes a line of able-bodied youngsters as she struggles up some steps with her heavy shopping.

How did we get here?
The same Manosphere has an answer for this:
Apex Fallacy.

A few women from 50 years ago saw how 'good' life was for a few men at the top of the food chain.
They perceived this 'good life' as pertaining to all men.

So they set out to get this 'good life' for themselves. At all cost.
But no-one told them that their very own natures would NOT allow them to enjoy that which was not designed for them.

Did a few grown women see how high one boy could pee on the wall?
Did a few grown women never outgrow their natural p-envy?

If so, why would I associate myself with someone who is behind me on the developmental chart?
Would that not put me in the same place as them?
I don't want to be a 5 year old again.
I enjoyed being a 5 year old. When I was 5.

Being neither bible scholar nor basher, I must say, this by St Paul appeals to me a great deal:
1 Cor 13:11: "When I was a child, I used to speak like a child, think like a child, reason like a child; when I became a man, I did away with childish things."

This little guy in Brussels is not doing too badly...

My 5 year old self would have been impressed...