Feminists Call The Cops When I Show Up. Here’s Why

I’m a slut, and I have been shamed. Yesterday I rocked up to the Amber Rose Slut Walk in downtown LA, alongside Rebel Media broadcaster and libertarian political candidate Lauren Southern. Event organisers called the police when they realised we didn’t buy into their barmy conspiracy theories about patriarchy and rape culture, and we were escorted from the event by the LAPD.

Southern and I represent something horrifying to the loony feminist Left: we’re not straight white males, yet we’re both relentlessly critical of hysterical, fact-free narratives about an American rape epidemic (which is just wrong), the idea that society supports rapists (also wrong, we put them in jail) and the notion that somehow western culture subtly encourages others to become rapists, sexist, and misogynists (hilariously wrong).

Our opponents would like us to be angry, old, doddering, white male conservatives. Instead, they get a sassy gay shitposter and a fearless hot blonde female politician, both of whom who refuse to be drawn into the senseless victim culture that the Left has sought to construct around both our identities.

We aren’t alone: young, smart, tech-savvy millennials are rapidly turning against the zany excesses of the modern progressive Left and its fear of free speech and free expression. Increasingly, it’s simply uncool to be a social justice warrior. Cultural libertarianism is on the rise.

This is why Lauren and I are feared. We represent a young, fresh challenge to the rapidly-weakening authoritarian hegemony in cultural and social debates. And we have great hair. Accusations of bigotry that they like to use on straight white men simply don’t work on us. When we point out that there’s no such thing as rape culture in the west, and that if they were really brave these women would get on a plane to Riyadh, we are met with mystification and fury.

Feminists got lazy over the past thirty years and assumed they could write off critics by crying “misogyny.” Now the resistance to bossy, nannying prudes is growing, that tactic has become useless. Instead, they have to resort to feeble allegations of “self-loathing” and calling in the po-po. For people who claim to hate the patriarchy, these women waste no time in appealing to it for help, whether it’s the police or the bankers who administer their trust funds. (Or, as in the case of Amber Rose fans, whoever cuts their welfare check.)

Honestly, this “self-hate” nonsense. I mean look at me. If you were living my life and looked like this, would you hate yourself? When would you even find the time? I’m not saying that most of my critics are fuelled by jealousy, but they are.

It doesn’t take much to make a feminist angry. Their screeching intolerance is typical of a movement in crisis. But, let’s not lie… it’s a joy to behold. Especially up close. And a new wave of dissident cultural libertarian critics, comedians, politicians, journalists, academics and new media stars are taking full advantage, not because we want to use feminist shock tactics in reverse to convert people to libertarianism or even conservatism, but because we believe in full and unfettered classical liberalism and we reject any and all attempts to police culture and language.

The anger displayed by these third-wave feminists, and how quickly they slide into hypocrisy when we go off the reservation, is delicious. Some people say SJWs are only vicious behind a screen, but seeing the whites of their eyes at the Slut Walk was almost scary. Instead of discussing their views like adults, or trying to win us over, feminist activists immediately began plotting our ejection.

As we left the event, they shouted that the “trash” was being “taken out.” If the Slut Walk is treasure, I’m proud to be trash. And anyway, everyone knows Oscar is the best thing about Sesame Street.

None of this fazes us, obviously. Our opposition to victimhood culture is why we showed up, and I make no apologies for being a reporter at the scene and simultaneously provoking these dangerous loons with a sign that said: “‘Rape Culture and Harry Potter’: Both Fantasy.”

Provocation has always been an essential component of the best cultural journalism, and there’s nothing authoritarians hate as much as the sound of laughter.

What yesterday provided, once again, was a window into the mentality of the feral, furious, identitarian Left, and into their insecurities and their weaknesses. More than anything else, they fear women and minorities who don’t buy into their irrational ideologies. It isn’t hard to see why: Lauren and I are only two people, and look at the damage we’ve done to them.

Woe betide the authoritarians when other members of their coveted victim groups start to wake up to the absurdity and viciousness of the people who claim to speak on their behalf. I mean, if these lily-livered feminist losers can’t handle a blonde chick and a queer, what are they going to do when we succeed in waking men up?

Things are going to get ugly when the social justice warriors turn against their former allies in a cannibalistic orgy. Indeed, it’s already happening. Authoritarians, for whom ideological purity is more important than healthy relations between genders, races and orientations, are going to be left out in the cold.

For a few minutes, feminists succeeded yesterday in turning Pershing Square in downtown Los Angeles into a giant, Oberlin College-style safe space, ejecting two journalists from a public square for wrongthink. It’s worth meditating on that for a moment.

Slut Walkers like to imagine that they’re continuing the tradition of radical student protests in the 1960s. But this couldn’t be further from the truth. Students in the 1960s believed in free speech, and wanted to be exposed to challenging ideas. When Buffalo Springfield sang, “What a field day for the heat, a thousand people in the street,” I’m pretty sure they weren’t anticipating 250 mentally fragile feminists pulling gold iPhones out from God-knows-where to summon the patriarchy to make the nasty gay man go away.

Seriously, that was it. 250. I’ve literally banged more people than showed up yesterday to Amber Rose’s exhibition of promiscuity. If they’d really wanted to make an example of me they should have done just that: used me as an example. I’d have been happy to give out tips. Instead, they ejected the only real slattern in attendance.

If they really want these things to fly, perhaps they need to appoint a Slut Queen. I am more than happy to put myself up for consideration. But they’ll have to drop all that feminist rubbish and get some hotter guests before I agree to anything.

Today’s Slut Walkers and campus activists are so terrified of challengers that they establish safe spaces on campuses, demand trigger warnings on course texts and call the police when someone shows up in real life to ask them questions. Slut Walkers, far from advocating for promiscuity, are insisting on monogamy of political opinion. Just look at the social media explosion afterwards.

Slut Walkers and their allies aren’t radicals, by the way. From the moment we arrived at the event, it was apparent that we were attending a heavily commercialised parade, not a grassroots movement. Sleekly-designed logos surrounded a vast, expensive stage while security guards patrolled the area.

The Slut Walk’s organiser, Amber Rose, a woman who owes most of her fame to dating rap stars, had turned the afternoon into an orgy of unglamorous self-promotion. The money-changers were in the temple and we weren’t even kicking over tables, just making fun of them, but we had to go anyway.

Amber Rose is straight from central casting for daddy issues, having performed as a stripper at the age of 15 after her parents’ divorce. But her stunning braveness didn’t end there, with contributions to the grassroots cause such as launching her own eyewear in 2009 and her ratchet couture clothing line Rose & Ono. A fashion abortion if ever I’ve seen one.

Rose was married to Wiz Khalifa and dated Kanye for years so any claims of jealousy towards this author are at least in part correct. Now she’s dating rapper Machine Gun Kelly. Pro tip for Amber: if your boyfriend is named after a famous bootlegger and gangster, Breitbart suggests removing yourself from their immediate vicinity before making your spurious rape charge.

There’s no doubt some young women are taken in by the anger and tribalism of what I prefer to call Whore Hike movement. Everyone likes to play the victim sometimes. But the numbers are dwindling: women who identify as feminists is at an all-time low. You can’t blame them: most women can see that walking around with electric tape over your nipples doesn’t make you a strong, empowered woman, a good feminist, or a scary slut. It makes you a dumb bitch in electrical tape.

If I’d said that as a straight white male, it would be easy for the opposition to dismiss me. Racist and sexist though their argumentative strategies may be, they are tactics that have worked for a long time. Time’s running out, though, which is why feminists are resorting to the last refuge of discredited ideologues: censorship and force.

Turnout was terrible yesterday, which is heartening. Though of course holding a Tramp Trot in LA was never going to be particularly successful in the City of Angels, where seeing hundreds of barely-dressed, garishly coiffed and excessively pierced single women is more commonly known as “Tuesday.”

It looked like a bunch of fat Barbies dressed by someone’s closeted 7-year-old nephew were melting in the sun to the sound of Destiny’s Child – that musical detail being the most acceptable part of whole venture. They say you should be able to dress how you want and not get raped, and I guess they were right because the only thing that got raped yesterday were my eyes.

The whole concept of a Slut Walk is bizarre. Like, if they can still walk, they’re not being very good sluts, are they? And the last place you’d want a slut is on her feet. I don’t do poor people drugs, obviously, but if I did I’d have been asking for some of the Slut Walkers’ weed, because it felt like you had to be dumber to think any of this was a good idea.

I’d have investigated all this more thoroughly, but I got thrown out before I could ask Slut Walkers whether their lives would have been better if they’d known their dads, how many abortions they’d had that day and how long they’ve ever held down a relationship – or a job.

Look. I don’t necessarily want to spend the next thirty years of my life clowning around in order to expose hypocrisy and double standards. I’d much rather debate these wrongheaded women (and men) in television studios and show their thinking up for the woolly nonsense it is. And I often do.

But so long as loopy feminists are damaging women with their fact-free drivel and falling back on the tactics of third-world dictators to silence criticism, lovers of free speech and unfiltered cultural expression like me and Lauren Southern will keep showing up to expose these hypocrites for what they are.

Because these deranged harpies are hurting ordinary women, and demonising men in the process. It’s no coincidence that the broads most loudly professing sexual freedom and promiscuity are the angriest, unhappiest – and ugliest – around.

PS, it’s been fun getting to say “slut” so many times in a family publication. Slut, slut, slut, slutty-slut slut. Slut!