The Divine Feminine

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t78Ko3qES7Y

For a long time, I wanted to make videos about the Divine Feminine and Divine Masculine. I wanted to look at and respond to what others have contributed to this topic, but, whenever I did, I never came away with any clear or useful insight. Therefore, the project sat on the back burner until now. I realized that, by attempting to center everything around what’s already been said regarding these terms, the only way to contribute to the topic as-is in a way that salvages these concepts would require an endless cycle of suggesting one or another interpretation of some specific aspect of either the divine feminine or masculine, to deconstruct it, and to then revive it through speculation, tinted with nuance, endless new decorations to be explicated only to then be put out of its misery. I must reluctantly thank God for delivering to us Cuties on Netflix, Cardi B’s Wet Ass Pussy, and the affirmative-action-based ascendancy of Kamala Harris in such rapid succession that both the Divine Feminine and Divine Masculine have revealed themselves to me, and not “revealed” in the super gay, arbitrary, and, dare I say, traditional sense, like a drug-induced vision or jesus in toast or the random article link on Wikipedia or the casting of bones of my McDonald’s chicken wings, but literally, actually, clearly revealed. And you’re going to hate it.

Let’s start by looking at the first part of these terms: the Divine. This is where the concepts go tits up, because the most important aspect of the concepts “Divine Masculine” and “Divine Feminine” is, counter-intuitively, not actually Divine but very human. We are immediately misled because we are invited to think of something spiritual, something transcendent, ideal, or perfect. And we flounder from one good or goodish or virtuous or virtue’ish impression to another like a stoner in a museum. How beautiful. But is it too beautiful? How balanced. But is it too balanced? Am I beholding it correctly? Or is it even possible to not behold correctly? And then someone whispers in your ear “actually, blue and red are secondary colors, and magenta and cyan are the real primary colors.” Woah, man. Wait, no… woman. Should we stare into “the divine” and begin to examine it, as long as our syntax maintains a minimally necessary abstinence from absolute grammatical holocaust, whatever incoherent monstrosity we’ve cobbled together can be exalted as profound, breath-taking, or “deep,” scaling with how literally mind-numbing it is.

That is the human purpose of the human concept “Divine”: not to bring light to darkness but to bring darkness where there once was light. This is why it consistently stands in contrast with empirical reality and plain reason. Remember: God is a woman, and Satan is her ex-boyfriend. He went MGTOW, so God created an instagram story denigrating men as trash and assuring us that she’s the kind of woman who is never the problem in the relationship. She wrote a diary from her perspective accusing him of everything she is guilty of. The Abrahamic treatment of Satanism, paganism, and the occult is not merely parallel to the Feminist treatment of Patriarchy: they are one and the same.

This is most easily exposed in Feminism. It’s flamboyantly abusive and seems to treat the overplaying of one’s hand as an Olympic sport. It is predicated on comparative claims regarding the male and female experience, yet it only examines the female experience. That isn’t to say it says nothing of the male experience (frankly, that would be an improvement). It says whatever it wants to, and, since the actual examination of the male experience never occurs, nobody stands up to boldly declare “but actually” except a bunch of hairy smelly rapey misogynist wife-beating neckbearded pedo-incel Hitler monsters (don’t you wish they’d cut the bullshit and just start calling us niggers?). But if we characterize this hypocrisy as divorce from reality, then feminism has married, divorced, re-married, then kidnapped, raped, and murdered anything and everything that dares cast a shadow. Because it also offers precious little resistance to the post-modern fuckery that assaults all (non-pseudo) intellectual pursuit. Men, more accurately understood as niggers, need feminism in order to better understand the masculine and the feminine. Women, more accurately understood as God, the Sundering Gash of the Heavens, as “woah, man,” keepers of the hoo-has of mystic woo, have the sixth sense: the exclusive access to lived experience.

The universe becomes a multi-verse with as many gods as there are women, each with their own Word, their own sacred power to make and to unmake, consistency be damned. Anything I feel like damning right now be damned, and should one of my subjects object, I will remind him that he must be a woman to understand. I will remind him that if he does not bend the knee to the Sundering Gash and respect his position as the shit under my stiletto that he must not value equality. Thus, Patriarchy Conjecture is born. Religion is much more effective when you have a Devil. If, at any point, a goddess encounters something confusing, hypocritical, or contradictory, something uncomfortable that she cannot ignore, whatever it is that challenges her divine identity, is that thing not the very definition of evil? Who or what but something wicked should stand to oppose God herself? But Feminism did not create this dynamic anymore than it created sex itself. It arose naturally from the traditional fundamentalism inherent in sex-gendered roles, which, itself, arose naturally from sex difference, largely, though not exclusively, based on the relative scarcity of eggs.

When we consider the reality of scarcity and humans’ various methods of overcoming it, it is as obvious as the light of day that eggs are king. This is the truth that Divinity is designed to hide. We are repulsed by the idea that this power, the power to trade on the pussy, would be brought to light. This truth exposes female power as an accident. Dumb luck. Or, perhaps, privilege. What if egg-privilege were subjected to the same treatment as the other privileges? We’d prefer not to think about that, so, by the Divine Feminine, we remove the eggs from the light. And aren’t the men glad we’ve done this? As uncomfortable as it is for women, to consider that the Divine Feminine was really a shitty Cardi B music video all along, this revelation is far more brutal to the men whose Divine Masculinity is to live an existence of constant apology expressed in infinite shades of simping and pussy-begging. This is why conservatives and traditionalists are repulsed by Wet Ass Pussy. Wet Ass Pussy is a hard truth, and most of us are not ready to stare directly into it.

Consider the perennial go-to measure of female oppression, their supposed lack of political power, in a world where Kamala Harris could become president via a combination of political blackface and fellatio. With standards this low, the historic absence of a female president suggests that literally no female has ever even wanted it. Why do more work for less power? To go from goddess to president is a considerable demotion. At least, it used to be. In 2020, there is now a progressive voting block that isn’t just willing to look past whoredom but to exalt it. When the divine feminine (being a literal whore) was brought to light, they respond with adoration. Simping is king shit.

Recently, the most vulgar revelation of the Divine Feminine came in the form of the Cuties trailer. At one point, a mother says to one of these 11 year old girls that she is becoming a woman, and the movie’s description presents plain thottery as the epitome female empowerment. Of course, the primary issue with this film appears to be the sexualization of children, which ought to go without saying. But I believe that this movie’s premise offends on another level, first, because it cuts through the spiritual gender narrative, exposing the actual vapidity of the divine feminine, and, second, because it attempts to then re-create this narrative with prepubescent girls. It’s the artistic equivalent of re-imagining Christianity where God is a child playing with his toys, occasionally destroying them or pretending they can talk or have super powers and then expecting Christians to really appreciate such a trite and insulting depiction of their God.

Yet no amount of conservative revulsion will hinder the emergence of the Divine Feminine revealed. Divinity means power, and Femininity means trading on the pussy. The greatest gods among us are the whores who command the highest price for the lowest effort, and this ratio is the mathematical measure of the Divine Feminine. I take some comfort in the fact that these gods are at least still subject to the laws of economics, though it pales in comparison to our ominous future where the power of female sexual market value is so secure that it has evolved beyond the need to even pretend it’s something else.