Mark Zuckerberg...a pimp by another name

This is the male who was inspired by "Hot or Not" (a horrible memory from my college days). This is the male who objectified women and girls from the start. This is the male whose apps are infiltrated with hate groups and sexual exploitation. I can't go two clicks on Instagram without running into image-based violence. It's all "bot" accounts with a woman's face and a link to a camming page that the kids call "OnlyFans."

The pimps are everywhere. They're ubiquitous. As a girl I remember watching "Pimp my Ride", people casually saying "Pimped Out" on MTV Cribs, and repeatedly playing the song "Big Pimpin' by Jay-Z.... Sean Carter - the man who targeted the teenage girl Beyonce, the one who is a rapist but will most likely get away scot-free. I was a girl listening to his songs. These are the male pimps who promised little girls like me it was no big deal, all a joke, it wasn't objectification, it was empowerment. But really the secret message was that they weren't talking about me...but about that girl over there. The Madonna-Whore complex in musical form.

How many of those little girls are now dead? How many are alive but dead on the inside? Girls. Girls. Girls. The name of his hit song...and the neon sign outside the stripclub.

I used to be one of those girls, dead on the inside. Only as a woman at the age of 41, I'm starting to feel my body once again. And just this small taste wakes me up to scream...I want to destroy these pimps. I want to rip them into shreds. They stole every bit of my childhood away, just like the males that physically violated me. These two isolated sets of men actually were deeply connected through their female oppression. Each one priming me for the next. I was a young adult when Facebook hit, just graduated college and ready to live my life. Twenty years later and now I know how I got so numb for so long.

The irony of male supremacy is that it would be my post about this truth targeted as defamation. It would be my comments shadow-banned. I would be the one seen as extreme. Shit's so topsy-turvy and I can't find my footing. Each day a new memory of the nightmare of growing up under male violence resurfaces. As aware, wise, thoughtful as I am it doesn't matter. My mind has been psychologically tortured since my sex was observed at birth. Women really don't have a fighting chance to escape infiltration. Any bit you do is a fucking miracle.

Male supremacy and white supremacy are like all parasites; they adapt and reform. Don't let the latest aesthetic of these men fool you. Nothing has changed. They can look like rockers, like rappers, like politicians, like the I.T. nerd nice guy trope. They all mean to make the world's oldest oppression the only profession for the majority of women and girls. They're lazy, unintelligent, uncreative men. That's the kind of man that pimps are. So he has to spend centuries creating a whole marketing scheme, that the pimp is clever and inspiring. So much circle-talking and delusion all to avoid actually doing some real work. All to avoid actually innovating. Despite these men's utter mediocrity, they are still absolutely a threat because brute force and tribalism can kill off whole civilizations. These male supremacists are gathering together throughout the world. They are organized, militant, dangerous, and come from every demographic.

I've always been organized but called myself a pacifist. Now I'm questioning everything. How do we fight those who dehumanize us, peacefully? And if we're forced to defend ourselves with violence, how do we prevent getting lost in violent power and control? How do we break the cycles these men started? How do we stop the further destruction caused by male supremacy? These are some of the questions that keep me up at night, while I scroll on Instagram observing my own cognitive dissonance. Mark got me addicted so I couldn't leave this life.