THEY CAN FIGHT BACK
As a child I got fucked my brains out so by older girls I have since found big, strong, and powerful women very sexy indeed. I grew up around strong, beautiful women who, even as a child I understood already, were used and abused only because they themselves allowed it to happen. However, only, it seemed to me, specific men got to treat the women as they chose. The men not favoured by these strong women in my life had it rough and tough indeed.
Beliza never got to do it to me, never seemed interested. One of the most beautiful, most desirable older girls I ever came across. She had her eyes on another, much older guy. Bastard! He used to even send me to go and fetch her from her home for him most evenings they had their dates. They would eventually get married. Coming back home as a grown up man after many years abroad, and feeling good about myself, I go to pay a courtesy call on Beliza’s family. She was even more beautiful, more radiant as a mature woman. Although she was outwardly warm and welcoming, she, without saying it verbally, told me to fuck off. Witch!
In youth street fights I’ve been beaten clean and square only once. It was in my early teens. I had almost overnight become abnormally big physically given my age then, had started to train Karate, and had also started to earn a bit of my own pocket money. So, I was in my neighbourhood a flashy and self-confident young man at that time. This in practice meant that, among other things, I wanted a girl, any girl, I got her. But not Tumi. Shit!
One day a group of neighbourhood girls are quarrelling about me in front of my home. Scandal! It turns out that the other girls were all out against Tumi because it was clear that I was interested in her. Though not especially beautiful, she was a tower of a girl over the rest and, therefore, very sexually attractive to me. I break up the group, and then pull Tumi aside to tell her in a macho way to go away and make noise elsewhere. Embarrassing me in front of my mother! Being the self-assured, over-confident young man I was, I hadn’t registered how furious Tumi actually was. The next thing is that she grabs me by the collars, swings me to the left, the right, and then places me in the centre to deliver the meanest ever head-butt. It’s a miracle I never sustained I broken nose. Witch!
My reverence for women is not only based on them being powerful sex objects. But the strongest manifestations of women’s strength and resolution to either deter or give in to men’s domination and power abuse, have for me been in the sex-power relations domain. Commenting on my handwriting many years ago, one of my professors at university mentioned that it was clear that I was brought up under strong female influence. True. Although, starting with my father, there have been giants of men who have influenced and inspired me in my life, the giantesses far outnumber and out-class the men.
I was taught to read and write by women. Women taught me how to love and appreciate beautiful things, they taught me how to love life, how to sing. It was my grandmother, she having finally decided to leave a tyrant of an ex-lover, who taught me how to see in the dark, how talk to animals of the night, how to talk to God both in times of trouble, and in good times as well. My mother taught me how to fight my own battles, let God take care of weaker souls.
Weaker souls don’t fight, can’t fight. God is a busy man. So, my strong women fight. They fight for themselves. God help them wicked men.
(Read also: Guns, patriarchy and violence against women , Bert Oliver, Mail & Guardian, March 09, 2013)
March 11, 2013
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