I met a man – Magyar

by Cunt Incognita (Vittu in Finland)

Forced to swallow patriarchal reality daily: Fish Hook & Line.

Forced to swallow patriarchal reality daily: Fish Hook & Line.

.. today’s lyrics: PJ Harvey — Hook



I met a man. In her 60’s.

A party arranged each year by a lake outside Budapest, Hungary. I had met with Dani the day before. After the talk: Of course — I drowned the usual rejection (personal, political) by drinking. Trying to hit on some muscular 22-year-old bartender. Just being obnoxious and blee-blaa. I don’t know why the constant rejection is so hard to take. If if if…

“If” Dani weren’t sexist. “If” she would remember that she said she loved when we met in Tampere. “If” she wouldn’t say 6 different things and expect me to know what is true at what moment. If. If. If. If only. Maybe then there would be some real communication. It wouldn’t be so scary to be open. Rejection would feel more okay to take. I wouldn’t “even out” my heart swelling with love and sexual affection [and: re-jec-tion] with a drink (2, 3, 4… more… and then starting to hit on whoever happens to be in my vicinity). Wanting the hurt to go away. Rejection – like a slap on my face. A “fuck your politics – and fuck you!”

[and this is real, and this is true: if i knew when to shut up, i would be able to get laid.]

Luckily I didn’t “get laid” in my drunkenness. I most likely ended up making a pathetic display of myself. Got home with some bad hick-ups. Not remembering going to bed. Waking up with a horrible head-ache. Going to this party by the lake.

I had a nice sharing caring talk with a woman who had lived 13 years in Hungary, involved with church activity, giving free english lessons. I talked about how men don’t shake hands with new women in the scene, if there’s any recognition given to our presence it comes in the form of kisses on the cheeks. Twice people had assumed that I must be there as the “girl-friend” of somebody, not going to a meeting or an event in my own right.

She talked of an occassion where she had been with her husband. A man greeting the husband, but when she reached out her hand the guy was behaving as if she had done something shameful or embarassing.

When I talked with the woman who had invited me to the party – a feminist friend – about this, she said that the refusal to shake hands was an “extreme” reaction. I disagree. I see it as a part of the normal everyday life. Not “extreme”. Normal.

The same woman wanted to explain a situation that happened at the party as “extreme” as well. The man in her 60’s. At first we had a talk. She clearly had a thing against feminists. Saying the usual things about us hating men. Talking about men being superior in strength and intelligence. [telling my feminist friend though that she was an exception to the rule: an intelligent woman. a statement that she was intelligent enough to refuse… “i hate and despise women, but you’re ‘okay’, you’re ‘different’, you’re ‘special'”… yeah. right.]

Later I observed the man sitting by the water. Fishing. Right next to her there were some stairs leading into the water. A woman going for a swim. The man saying something. Then, when the woman was in the water, the man aiming towards her with the fishing rod. Swinging a fish hook her way. I saw the situation, but made excuses in my head. Thinking that she wasn’t doing it on purpose.

The woman came out of the water. And the man made another comment. They got loud. My feminist friend walked over. Two women being loud. The man being loud.

So what happened was that the man had told the woman not to go in the water, cause she would “disturb the fish”. The woman figured it was a public beach, and that the man could have placed herself somewhere else than right next to some stairs leading into the water. The man was calling the woman “whore”. And later after she had left, the man was saying that the woman had gotten into the man’s “space” cause she wanted to make contact with her…

My feminist friend was both being loud, angry, and laughing at the statements made by the man. The girl-friend of the man was listening to the conversation. Saying that it was “interesting”. All the time I was making parallels in my mind to my own way of relating to sexism in people. How come the sexism in the man’s behavior is functioning as an instant repellent, while I’m wide open and available to a man like Dani – also horribly sexist, with degrading and demeaning behaviors to women.

(r) who’s shared 3 years of her life caring for Dani – a woman cleaning Dani’s pants when she’s been shitting on herself because of excessive drinking – stated with emphasis that: “Dani is a bad person”. Dani sometimes disappearing for days. Staying out of touch. Avoiding discussion. Now in contact once a week, once every two weeks. Still not taking the hurt of this woman seriously.

(r) said that if there would be a relation with Dani and me that the roles would be “reversed”, that Dani would have to get used to being in the “other” position. We agreed on Dani being a person dominating relations and situations. i said that from my point of view, Dani is not interested in relations where she can’t control. (and i would definitely not want to be “dominant”. the only thing i’m looking for is equal.)

I myself recently wrote on a forum in desperate attempts to try to relate to Dani how her behavior can affect persons she’s getting involved with intimately [this when Dani tried to convince me that talking through the problems is not a good way of dealing with things, instead she was saying that she wanted to take some time to start an intimate relation with another woman… saying that this would improve the relation between her and i…] My response to this was:

i feel for you. i do. STRONGLY. but as i said in one of the last chats. I LOVE MYSELF. which means i’m not going to be engaged to a relation with a person who doesn’t take my needs into consideration. and when i say there is a severe power imbalance and SEXISM going on, then this person should listen. NOT HUNT DOWN MORE WOMEN to drag through the same ordeal that i’ve gone through. NOT WITHOUT BEING HONEST WITH THEM. saying that “one of the women who i’ve been intimate with is wanting to deal with the problems, but i don’t and she’s said that her interpretation of what’s going on is this”:

“i’m the type of guy who likes the falling in love part, like i can put a lot of energy into making that happen, but after that i kind of just hang around in the relation, and when there’s a problem i put my feelings first, even though i might be the one who caused the bad feelings with my actions, right now i’m having a severe conflict with X amount of women, and i’m not taking their concerns into consideration, i’m focusing on trying to heal myself, by spending time with you instead. but if there will be a problem, that i can’t face. i’m not gonna face it. but i will be by your side forever and ever and ever, if you just accept me exactly the way i am. and if you want to have intimacy and share love with me, it’s good if you stay in a submissive giving insecure fearful mode, cause otherwise i won’t open up to you. i have problems with domination, and can easily take over a situation with my behavior (sexually, emotionally), and i’m a combination of being dominant-spontaneous-mad which can be really harmful if what i want to do is not really going in line with respectful caring and sharing behavior. i strangled one woman in bed, and i don’t really know why. and i was also mentally abusive towards a woman i had a 3 year long couple relation with, and she is still suffering from it. i’ve also used sex-appeal to control and dominate women. i’ve been told i have problems with sexism, but i’m not doing anything concrete to deal with it. and here is the name and number and email of this woman in case you feel that you would like to have support in your reality when there’s a conflict with me 050 ….  milla@something..”

Back to my feminist friend. The lake. The man. The woman who had been refused a handshake some years ago. Made to feel that she should be ashamed for assuming that she should be treated as an equal. — This woman had been very sensitive to my situation. Me: Once again being put down by Dani. Refusal to talk about the sexism in our relation. Political and personal rejection. This woman fully recognized the hurt in the breach of trust when it’s someone you feel for intimately who has had abusive behavior towards you. [Her sensitivity to my situation felt like balm to my soul.] The additional level of hurt and humiliation when it’s someone you love who hurts you. Wounds going deeper than the occasional man throwing a fish hook after you whenever she feels her territory hasn’t been respected. Invaded. A woman being a “whore” for going to a public beach and going for a swim. “Looking” for the abusive attention of the man.

How to refuse the patriarchal reality? How to relate? One reality fully supported. The other called ‘insane’. I met a man. And what some feminists want to name “extreme” I would call display of fully accepted and normative behavior. Our everyday reality. So normal that we swallow it daily: Fish Hook and Line.


Another scene, if possible (Magyar, Dani)

by Cunt Incognita (Pina in Budapest)


To Dani:

i was told by you that “fuck off” means “come here”. words and actions and wishes and wantings can be very confusing.

finding strength and acceptance in myself after hopeless despair. letting go of the control you had over me [a love in me, eager, and later – anxious to please] that started with me pronouncing your name Da-ni-el because you said you wanted it that way instead of the way others say it: Dan-yel.

now you’re Dani. and sometimes “leave me alone” means “leave me alone.”

and i’m left with the confusion by a heart that started beating with a childlike love.

a love that observed and watched and waited. a love used to rejection. a love that saw you light up when i was standing bent over doing stretching, and you jumped up behind trying out a position, not asking: “ How would you feel about me trying out a sexually dominant position on you? Is it okay if I check what it would be like having my penis in your cunt when you’re doing astanga-yoga? Would this be relaxing for you? Or threatening? Disrespectful?” a love wanting to be wanted. to be seen. a love accepting, with a fear of not getting accepted. a love with the fear of rejection. not moving as freely as yours. not feeling as free. a love – observing watchful waiting.

i remember the boys in school. during the breaks. chasing the girls. groping. touching. i remember feeling pleased. feeling noticed. the cultural codes around me showing that this is natural and normal. i remember having mixed feelings about it. i remember fighting back. biting back.

the teachers had a talk with me, told me not to.

for some time i was a comforting love. a safe haven for you. a love listening to you complain about your other relations. a love that was new and nurturing for you. a love that now hates the idea of having been the comforting woman, instead of the sister in solidarity — the network that works fully to your advantage that could so easily turn around — instead of shattered by you: women sharing experiences, hands reached out, safe and strong — we — listening to our own voices and our own stories instead of the version that you give us.

for many months you told me to wait. you told me “later”. with words you said you loved me, and that i’m important, and. you avoided talking through the problems, and you told me that you developing a new relation would help our relation. when i tell this to others their faces get distorted with disbelief. you tell me now that my reality is distorted. i agree. it’s twisted and sick from all the things left unsaid. the things you labeled “none of your business”. our interaction for a year was not nothing to me. i lived with it 24/7. when we met here in budapest you said, with words, that it’s been the same for you (contradicting other words you said before).

i was a childlike love. and i am. still. when we’ve met i’ve felt present. sometimes wanting to say: I feel affected by you, You move me, I miss you, I want to have sex with you.

happy that i have the opportunity to say Asshole in your presence. feeling strange about holding other things inside. maybe cause you don’t want to meet. you don’t want to see or listen. you don’t care. you’ve told me a clear “fuck off”.

and i was loving and blind. and i told myself lies. and i lived in fantasies. and in memories of the tenderness that was there in the madness, oppression, repression, sexism, drinking – my own crazy crazy aggression – unfocused, random. a love knowing abuse and refusing it, a childlike heart beating through the shocks and scorn and isolation. a grown-up heart knowing no other way than wrapping itself up in sarcasm. a weak protection: “Hello, my name is Milla, i’m in love and i don’t feel cared for or respected – you don’t seem to listen to me, i want you close, but i need to escape – would you care to try my teeth?”

a love that learned to relate to you in the same way a battered child does to her parent. the conversations we had. the chats. they turned into staged plays. i felt like i was in a role. not free. couldn’t express myself freely anymore. knowing that i need to please you – follow and be sensitive to your emotions – in order to get a ‘semi-functioning’ conversation happening. like a woman in a marriage. like a woman in prostitution. knowing my position. feeling trapped and bitter, with no space to express it.

the many times you dominated the conversations. not caring for what was happening with me. the many questions left unanswered.

in me. wanting. to. work it out. why does equality feel like control to you?

you said many times that i’m weird and formal. what is spontaneous and free to you?

did you see me during this time? or was i just a reflection of your own desperation?

i feel like i know you. but i know that it’s not true.

Madness – life, life (Magyar, sexism, nationalism, racism, male violence)

by Cunt Incognita (Pina in Budapest)


In the picture above you can see both the current land that some Hungarian nationalists feel the necessity to defend – the area marked with a red line – as well as the outlines known to the majority of the population by now, since it’s commonly used on sweaters and maps and stickers – Big Hungary. A kingdom (looking like a brain) lost.

The madness has no boundaries.

I met again with the p-collective here in Budapest. It’s the third time I’m in contact with them. The fun thing is that there’s been a clear process going on within the group.

It started by one man making an announcement on the internet, looking for women with small children who would be interested in getting some sort of community together. The man had a flat that she offered to these women for a while. For some time the place was open for anyone interested in staying there.

During the times I’ve met with the people in the group, there’s been talk about how to raise children. Forms of living. Community building. And a large amount of how to relate to sexuality and social relations. This time there was a clear split in the group. The man who initiated the group, plus another man, have a (clearly insane) creative connection going on with each other. They were openly saying that the flat was a laboratory for the ideas they had. They wanted to, and did lift off the toilet-bathroom door, as well as tried to convince the women in the group not only of the benefits of free love, but also tried to guilt-trip them into to sharing it “equally” with the men in the group, especially the two men, had the idea of that any woman interested in either one of them should be able to share the same amount of intimacy with the other – all in the name of equality. They were expressing that their sexual frustration was “oppressing” them as men, and that women somehow were responsible for this “male oppression”. So now the two men are by themselves, trying to find poor women with disabilities to join their project.

The rest of the group is developing and expanding in their own way. A few of them being in regular contact with each other, thinking of finding a communal living space. One woman would like to live with the collective 3 days a week, in the same way she does now when staying over at the flat of one of the women, that is now currently in open use for the rest of the group. There are also persons choosing to interact more sporadically with the rest.

The cool thing about this process is that people have been very open and clear about what they want. The split came naturally by two members trying to impose their wishes on the rest. The rest of the group is a mix of very different individuals from different social backgrounds (this is also being discussed – how to share and/or relate to money). They co-ordinate over a mailing list, and are also in contact with each other over the phone, meeting up in different spaces (at the homes, spread out in the different areas of the city). As well as visiting eco-villages, and other places together. The discussions are endless and open. A form of organic consensus. There’s no fear of expressing differences. There’s an air of acceptance in the group.

When meeting up with a few persons from the collective in the suburbs of Budapest, we came across a group of about 20 men practicing marching in the parking lot. I went to talk with a man who was standing next to them, watching. We managed to have some conversation in my broken school german. I asked her what was going on, and she confirmed what I already thought, that this was the Hungarian guard [a paramilitary association (of the extreme-right party Jobbik), banned and declared illegal some weeks ago] walking back and forth turning left and right, right next to a playground in the quiet neighborhood.

The nationalism came on strong in a statement that went something like “This is the Hungarian guard, not Nazi and and racist as claimed by the Jewish media. It’s for the people of Hungary.” [She was correcting her language saying that it’s probably better to say “zionist” instead of “jewish”] I was asking why they were practicing marching if they’re not racist and wish no harm, and then she was pointing at the commonly seen silhouette of Big Hungary on the sleeve of one of the marchers [they were looking really funny, being obvious beginners, one man with a big smile on her face, spinning in the wrong directions when turning around. Others with sullen, serious faces] She was starting to ask me about the area of Hungary. If I knew how large it used to be, and how small it is now.

The guys in the parking lot were dressed casual in heavy-metal t-shirts and regular clothes. But this is what the Extreme Right look like when they’re not practicing:

The Hungarian Guard. Dressed to kill.

The Hungarian Guard. Men dressed to kill. Banned but still marching for a Big Hungary.

The well developed website of the extreme right: http://kuruc.info/t/40/

On the site you can click on tabs with categories as “Cigánybűnözés” – Gypsy Crime and “Zsidóbűnözés” – Jewish Crime and “Antimagyarizmus” – Anti-Hungarianism. Unfortunately the people creating the site have not made it possible for people to post comments on it…

The Hungarian Guard was founded in 2007 with 56 persons swearing an oath of loyalty to Hungary. Since then the numbers have gone up to some thousands, with many more supporting them. Members have been involved in attacks on the Roma population. [Roma are about 800 000 out of a total population of about 10 million in Hungary.]

We didn’t finish the discussion because the woman we were waiting for had arrived. And it was clear that the talk would lead nowhere. I was trying to point out that I disagreed with what was being said. Another woman took a more aggressive approach which led to comments about “Jews” and “Atheists”.

I really don’t know how to react to this on an emotional level. Cause the madness expressed by that man, is just as mad as the sexism that I encounter everywhere (television, images, porn and sex shops, massage parlors, people around me with their behaviors and words). It’s just as mad. And in a sense, just as much a part of the same patriarchal system that refuses discussion, but instead is preparing for marching and combat in the same way as the male-rage Anti-fa and Black Block. Male macho against male macho. Nothing that would lead to a change. War and exclusion. The ones who justify the objectification of another human being (Nazi, Hippie, Roma, Anti-fa — Woman) and express hatred and aggression against members of these groups through physical violence.

Or in some cases the more “soft” machos who try to impose their reality and projections on certain groups – in this case women – as the two men from the p-collective, or — Dani. Coincidently these men are now in co-operation with one another. Planning on meeting up in the country side to have some talks about life and how to live it.

Yesterday I had a talk with a friend of Dani’s. A man that was saying that it’s strange that there’s co-operation with one of the men from the p-collective since the man has had sexually abusive behavior towards one of the women in “our” circles. I was tiredly pointing out that once again there was this easy split made between “the good” and “the bad men”. Talking about Dani’s sexually abusive behavior. And her way of relating to women in intimate relations. How badly messed up a person must be if she doesn’t remember that a person she’s been intimate with for three years, has her front teeth a bit further back than the rest. (These are the things that make me feel like I’m losing grip on reality. And these are the things that make me understand how severely damaging it has been to be around Dani). I talked with the friend of how degrading it feels like, that Dani’s not open to talk through my negative experiences with her. That Dani is no different than the other guy. They both have immunity. Both of them come with different realities, serving many different stories and excuses when it comes to their own abusive behavior. Both of them feel sorry for themselves in relation to the women that they’ve hurt. And: They don’t need to talk about these things. These problems are considered to be “private” and not “collective” matters. And they function well together. Not caring to ever bring these issues up in their talks on Life and How we should live it. The oppression of women and their part in it is a side-dish that can be brought in whenever they feel like it. If they don’t, there’s collective support in skipping it. They decide when the main dish gets on the table and what it is (Mostly some general anti-fascism, being against Nazis). Desert – the “extra” topics concerning oppression (the fascist politics) within, get some token space whenever it suits their needs. A woman like myself, who is fighting for existing in the same spheres is considered to be “over-reacting” “aggressive” “abnormal”. Too “accusing”. Too “personal”. Disturbing the peace by talking about my hurt openly, and expecting to be treated with respect. Expecting to be heard out, and when not – acting out.

Yesterday at the common flat I met a really nice woman from abroad, with whom I could share perspective on the lack of self-reflection within the scene and lack of open and regular discussions on what we see and what we want to change in our immediate surroundings (for instance: how many men are doing the dishes, clean the toilet – and who?) And: If someone says there’s a problem with sexism – Hear them out! She said she couldn’t see herself be a part of a social project where there weren’t regular collective space created for reflection on the roles that we take, and how to break with them.

It felt really good to be able to share the madness of the current conflicts that I’m wrapped up in with her, in a way that felt “normal”. A level of self-reflection and awareness that is necessary for me to feel that I can express myself without getting into serious misinterpretations.

We talked about the usual things, of how to address the problems. How to deal with them. How to name them. She was for using other [less triggering] words than ‘sexism’ as for instance ‘dis-respect’. When I showed her my own stand – at this occasion written on the shirt I’m wearing at the moment: “Feminist hurt by sexism”. She said it was “cute”. 🙂 Talking with her really felt like a breathing hole in the severely unaware situation I’m in at the moment.

I feel lost. In search of something I don’t believe in. A place of acceptance. Where I wouldn’t always have to defend and prove my position, and stand my ground in order not to be pushed into non-existence. Sexism is real. Sexism hurts. I’m a feminist hurt by sexism.

Midwife crisis – Magyar

by Cunt Incognita (Pina in Budapest)


Short glimpses of the reality I encounter passing through Budapest.

Meeting with a woman who’s involved with the Birth Right movement in Hungary. Wanting to get legal recognition for midwives working in a different way – a more humane process of delivering life into this world. Letting the process take its time, and let the woman make her own decisions on how she wants to give birth.

The hospitals in their turn, are full of technical and chemical interventions that lead to the next intervention that in its turn lead to the next intervention. (A vaginal exam [intrusion], that increases the risk of infection, and therefor leads to intake of chemicals to start the contractions, and so on and so on.) A woman is treated as a baby-making machine that’s there to produce an infant within a specified time-frame, in order to not mess with the working-shifts of the doctors. The woman is taken away any control over the birth process and in some cases women have even experienced having doctors sitting on top of them pushing the baby out with hands and knees. Many end up with trauma. Depression. There has also been noted psychological effects on the babies.

A good film on the hospital birth and alternative birth situation in Hungary (the site is in Hungarian): Noras


FILM description in English: Noras – Stories from the labour room [78min]

“Suddenly, my doctor said: lie down properly on that bed, stop swaying,
don’t lie on your side… let’s give birth!”

Civilization places very strict controls on how women are allowed to
carry and to give birth to their children. In this documentary, you
can witness how very often these controls only offer an illusion of
safety and also how simple human kindness and the pleasure of birth
are lost among all the rules and regulations.

The film is in Hungarian with English subtitles.


There’s been a legal process in order to get recognition for the different way of the midwives, and the right to give birth at home. There’s been frustrating meetings between the two worlds of patriarchal technology and the more life-celebrating intuitive process based on the knowledge of the midwives.

The day I came to Budapest, it had just been made public that one of the main midwives speaking for the Birth Right movement will end up in court dealing with a case where an infant died during delivery.

Children still die in the process of giving birth. Both in and outside hospitals. The problem with the court-system is that it judges the “safety” of the process according to the hospital-model since the other is yet not recognized.

I hope that this conflict will at least raise some awareness around these issues.

Dani – Go DIY (meeting in Budapest)

by Cunt Incognita, PINA in Budapest — she=he

Dani has expressed that her "mid-term" plan is to get me to leave her alone. Which makes me wonder what the long-term plan might be. [Learning how to speak in clear messages? Dealing with the pain in others caused by her own behavior, hearing them out? Maybe even: Accountability?]

Dani has expressed that her “mid-term” plan is to get me to leave her alone. Which makes me wonder what the long-term plan might be. [Learning how to speak in clear messages? Dealing with the pain in others caused by her own behavior, hearing them out? Maybe even: Accountability?]

I wake up in the common flat, a place where Maxigas and Hajni have had talks around the the kitchen table, with people unknown to me, about me being a threat to the common well of others (one fear that they’ve managed to spread: if I write anything about the common flat on the blog, all the Nazi’s will come and burn the place) and that I need to be excluded, pushed out. Right now they’re not here [neither the nazis nor Maxigas nor Hajni], and Dani told me to go there, so here I am. Getting in contact with people who get shocked and confused when they understand who I am. “Are you Milla?!” The person that Maxigas and Hajni have painted a demon picture of, so it gets strange for people to put the pieces together once they’re face to face with me: Just a regular human being.

Waking up and once again thinking about conflicts. Feeling it in my stomach. Wanting to crawl up into a ball, never get out of bed, just lie here until the bad things go away. Would want to feel safe and cared for. But every single movement, the thing of just existing in a space, or trying to get talks about my exclusions and the hierarchies and [in Dani’s case] sexually abusive behavior and what it has felt like, wanting to understand why she’s treated me [and is treating me] this way.

With all these conversations there is the same exhaustion and stress. A small window opening up when I’m face to face, and not just pixels that can be aggressed upon or ignored. [“Sick mind”, “None of your business”]

When I try to talk with Dani about the things that have hurt, she keeps repeating that my reality is distorted, and that she doesn’t feel listened to. Like a baby she’s crying for the attention of the more understanding Ida. Or wishing that (r) who she repeatedly contacts once a week, or once every two weeks about sorting out and developing their relation, that she would want to meet with her – a woman whose face she doesn’t remember properly after a three year long relationship. And when meeting up with her instead of listening to the harm caused by Dani – as agreed upon – Dani tries to re-engage with the her, and play mind-games with her, not really paying attention to what this person went through in relation to her. When I met with (r) she was describing the relation with Dani as “torture”.

Dani said that Ida is angry with me, and when I ask why, then she just says that I should ask myself. [And at the same time Dani is upset that I’ve contacted people Dani knows and that I’ve talked openly about my own experiences with her.] Anyways: I have contacted Ida about this. In the last message that I sent to Ida over facebook, I told what Dani had told me, and that I would like to understand why Ida’s upset with me. And that she could contact me about it if she wanted to, and that I would not send any more information about what’s going on here, since I don’t know if she’s interested or receiving it well. I said that it’s important for me to get support in what I’m doing, and that sharing the information and passing it on is exhausting me, cause I’m going through such a messed up experience all by myself without support – and I need support. It’s weird for me. The non-solidarity that is there amongst women. I guess it’s some sort of competition amongst the underdogs in the patriarchal system, of getting the precious attention and ‘protection’ of the ‘benevolent’ masters. Believing in the goodness and care and love of our own pampered masters in an existence marked by the phantom-fear of the “bad” and “crazy” Masters, somewhere ‘out there’, hiding behind bushes in the dark. [always: Someone Else. Not our boyfriends, lovers, fathers, brothers, friends. Somewhere Else. Not here, not now, not between us. Not in broad daylight and in everyday interaction. This is the story we cling onto when we suffer through life, numbed by the pain stemming from dysfunctional un-equal relations.] I felt really bad about when asking Ida about how the decision of how to contact the self-critical men’s group got changed, and also desperately asking for support from her to talk some sense into Dani about meeting up here in Budapest, as we had agreed. [the deal made in finland was: a statement written in english by Dani acknowledging abusive and dominant behavior; the addition of Ida’s and my point of view in two statements written by us, sent by Dani to the group and me at the same time before July 24. Very simple. But it wasn’t performed by Dani. Instead I had to once again send emails and ask what was happening. Not getting any answers. And in the end getting really aggressive mails about this being: “None of your business” from Dani. Telling me that I can just “go and DIY”. That I can contact the group myself. (And after I did so, she expresses clear unhappiness with my action.) It’s really horrible the level of disrespect and contempt. There’s no recognition of the hurt done.]

When I made a request for help to Ida, she called me ‘pushy’ and that I need to leave ‘time and space’. [To a guy who has continuously pushed things forward by saying “Later”?] I felt this was a really strange and aggressive thing to say to someone who had just been stood up and stranded in a strange place, getting my time wasted by this person without warning, and with the notion of getting severely ignored in my wish to get healed from the damaging behaviors that Dani is responsible for. Saying “pushy” to a woman in my situation is clearly showing that there’s something fishy about the relation with the guy, if she’s accepting the abuse towards other women this easily, and finds excuses for absolute ass-holic behavior. This in my mind means that Dani’s reality, that is calling my reality ‘distorted’, have gotten a hold in the mind and soul of Ida — not a healthy relationship, and clearly showing how conflicts will be [are!] played out between them.

Dani said in the meeting that she’s not comfortable with me writing about the guy on the blog. That she doesn’t agree with what I say.

In this case it’s my turn to repeat: Dani, go DIY.

Write your own story. Don’t get mad at me for not understanding yours when you’re not willing to express it. I am not you. And I can write about whatever I want. This is me being angry [not angry enough!] This is me being sad This is me feeling unsafe and abused This is me feeling diminished and belittled This is me feeling unseen and not listened to This is me waking up – not wanting to wake up to this existence You: Go complain somewhere else. You say people you know read this, and get affected by it. And that that’s a reason for me not to write about my experiences in relation to you. If you’re bothered by it. Then try to fix the hurt, instead of making efforts of covering it up.

If this bothers you so deeply. Just don’t read it. Do the same with this as with everything else in relation to me: Ignore Lie Twist and Distort.

Cause what I’m writing about is my reality and what I’m going through. Not your life. If you have an image problem, you have every possibility in the world to express it here on the blog. You can say whatever you want. Make a post.

Bizarre – my life, my life

by Cunt Incognita (Pina in Budapest)

A dry cunt coming to get some clarity in an abusive relation with a guy called Dani. There was an agreement to meet up and talk things through. Oppression. Equality. And all that stuff that is important for the people within the "scene". Turns out that the cunt gets stood up for a weekend at a thermal spa... This she finds out through others. Not through Dani, who claims that there's an important gathering, that she doesn't wish to share information with me about. Trying to make me feel guilty for sticking to an agreement... Today: Cried like a baby for half an hour in the street. Wondering if, how, when it will get better.

A dry cunt coming to get some clarity in an abusive relation with a guy called Dani. There was an agreement to meet up and talk things through -- Oppression. Equality -- And all that stuff that is important for the people within the "scene". Turns out that the cunt gets stood up for a weekend at a thermal spa... This she finds out through others. Not through Dani, who claims that there's an important gathering, that she doesn't wish to share information with me about. Not wanting to see this cunt around. Trying to make me feel guilty for sticking to an agreement... Bad bad cunt. I dared to show up to have the talk we said would happen... Today: Cried like a baby for half an hour in the street. Wondering if, how, when it will get any better.

Dani made a promise in Finland that we would meet up and have a facilitated talk in Budapest on August 13th 14th. Once again I’ve gone through the stress of trying to get a meeting set. She says she wants to. But just needs to figure out “when and where”. She’s full of the usual mixed messages.

Yesterday I came to Budapest after spending a day and a night on the road. I started in Timisoara in the afternoon. But discovered that I had forgotten my passport and needed to go back, and start the journey all over again late in the evening.

About hitch-hiking in Romania. It’s been working perfectly fine with small cars. No molestations. Only persons warning about not hitching night time, cause men tend to think that a woman hitch hiker is a woman in prostitution.

One Romanian said that it’s difficult to get a ride where they don’t want money. But for foreigners it’s easy. After traveling the short ride from Timisoara to Arad (50 km) I would like to generalize and recommend women not to hitch-hike with truck drivers. The first driver I was with had some weird behaviors. And after a while another guy came along. The guys were talking in between and i heard the word “sex” coming up. The newcomer were fingering my arm and asking “Sex?” after which i abruptly said no and also said not to touch. At the next possible stop I asked them to pull in to the side of the road, even though they after I had made my unwillingness to sex very clear, said that “Okay, Arad”. I wasn’t willing to continue the ride after this shitty statement.

The next guy was okay. Also truck driver. Helped me get a ride with another truck. And this guy made a stop after I discovered that I had forgotten my passport. Even before the stop there had been comments on my looks. With the language problem, i just ignored explaining how i felt about that (Romanian is similar to Italian). After we stopped, she called for a truck going back in the direction of Timisoara. But. When I was getting out. She asked if i needed help with getting the backpack on. Which i said no to. Still she lifted it and put it on my shoulder. At the same time she squeezed my breast. We were standing outside the truck. I was scared of getting full on aggressive with the guy. But i still kicked her. And tried to hit her upper body. I opened the door a few times. Banged on it. Screamed “Asshole”. Threw detergent bottles that were in a side pocket of the door. She was just smirking at me.

The plastic of the truck is fixed with a metall string. So I was pulling it out of its loops. At least that she would have to do something.

Later I figured I should have poured the detergent liquids inside the car. That would probably have made me feel better. Getting angry didn’t help. I want them to understand that I’m human and that this behavior hurts.

It just gets too much. This constant repression. Oppression. Treated as body. Available. Accessible. Treated as someone who needs to love and care and when not doing this, there are these huge defensive reactions or (as in Dani’s case) indifference. The worst thing when Im exposed to these things is the hopelessness I feel. Especially now. When Im left to recover from the wounds of Daniels behavior.

Being stood up in Budapest.

Found out today that the guy is taking the weekend off at some thermal springs on the outskirts of Budapest. She was talking about this as “arranging a gathering” of some sort… She also told me that Im not welcome. That she doesnt want to see me around. (Once again political exclusion based on personal fears stemming from prejudice).

Ive made it clear to her that i was (am) deeply hurt by her behavior. And that i would like to talk through the Everyday Male Chauvinism text with her.

She’s said a clear no to that. But that we can meet up on monday. At the common flat. She continues setting the rules. She’s had a lot of experience in how to manipulate women (told me herself that she knows that she can do it. Make a woman come up and kiss her if she wants to. Exercise willpower over another human being just for the fun of it.)

Im sitting in the stairs of the common flat in Budapest. A place I’ve been excluded from. Its a pleasant inner yard. Open with light. Far from the feeling I get from interacting with the “scene”. Once again I’m in the same position of wanting to talk things through. And in this case even fully prepared to talk through my own behavior that’s not okay.

But these politics are rejected. As well as my whole existence. I spent half an hour crying like a baby, sitting on the street, today. I just dont understand how we (women, feminists) can be treated in this manner, and have it accepted.

Dani at the thermal spring. Not giving a damn. Insane (sexism is a disease). Maybe having a nice relaxing time. While she leaves me stranded.

It’s really weird that she’s now in contact with a profeminist group that’s supposed to spend time reflecting on their male socialization… She got me to Budapest. And then changed all the rules around. And she’s trying to make me feel like I’m doing something wrong.

We agreed on having a facilitated meeting. We agreed on having a meeting where I would get support. She was even agreeing on having it filmed before.

Anyways. Working hard on not drinking. I’ve looked up english speaking aa-meetings. If the meeting will take place monday (unprotected without the support ive clearly stated that i need), then i will for sure go to the aa thing on tuesday. Cause it will be heavy facing the same non-understanding and superior behavior as from the ‘anarchist’ “comrade” from the LoveKills camp. As well as the truck drivers. Same difference.

Where the hell is the love?

Usual, Unusual – LoveKills #4, 2009

by Cunt Incognita (Pizda in Timisoara)


For more info on LoveKills click here: http://www.aro.ecobytes.net/lovekills/home_en.html

I wish… for #5.

Next edition of LoveKills check-list:

  • Simple definition of what sexism is (and what it isn’t) [plus discussions]

  • Simple definition of what consent is [plus discussions]

  • Anti-sexist structures / practice / awareness-raising including Power of Definition & Partiality

  • Structures for conflict-resolution, dealing with conflicts (collective and individual)

  • Alcohol, Party-policy…? (What is the camp for?)

  • Open space / General & regular meetings to self-organize (co-operate, co-ordinate) the camp, share [emotional, political] realities and connect/network, exchange knowledge (transparency – for instance: what needs to be done?, how is the camp organized?, who has different information?, what’s the money situation at the current moment?) [in other words possibility to change the camp according to the wishes and needs of the participants on a day to day basis]

  • Space to discuss and reflect on our roles in society / at camp. Space to give each other open positive-negative feedback.

  • Decision-making according to (some clearly stated, and structured, inclusive, and real) Consensus-model

I spent some time at a small anarchofeminist gathering in Romania [27.7 – 2.8] initiated by the LoveKills collective. In a country of about 20 million, where pictures of dictator Ceauşescu in 1989 was replaced by religious icons in the schools, and an anarchist movement predominantly circling around the punk scene (music, drinking, hating&fearing nazis), it’s a great thing that a handful of persons managed to find each other and make the efforts to create a space for other like-minded beings with similar needs to connect and interact with one another.

This is highly unusual. I sincerely hope the collective will find the strength and the will to learn from this years experiences and transform into something closer to its true form (fun, creative, energizing – it’s possible!) for next year(?). LoveKills has the potential of setting a trend that is needed within a scene – unfortunately still – recreating societal patriarchal norms, and lacking the tools (awareness; strategies; structures) to get into necessary self-reflection.

[I’m aware that there are as many experiences (diverse, different, alike) as there were participants.]

My subjective experience at the festival was the usual repressive traumatizing chaotic existence of an outspoken anarcha-radical feminist activist woman pointing out sexism. A strange psycho-drama of where I acted out exhausting repetitive explaining, crying, crazy – going unconscious and obnoxious – drinking, and dis-organized solitaire resistance.

At the camp we had at least two conflicts that in my mind could/should have been brought to general attention [how?!] in order to find hands-on practical solutions on how to practice the anti-sexist theory brought up in the many workshops. Instead it seemed to me that a lot of freedom-fighting individuals were losing well-needed energy and time that could have been spent connecting with one another, in order to repeat a message (respect, anti-sexism, solidarity, co-operation) to persons not ready or willing to take it in.

Conflict One: One male member of the collective was continuously drinking, and had authoritarian behaviors towards the rest of the group. As I understand it, this was discussed within the collective throughout the camp, without any real changes from the man. The conflict eventually led to a split. I hope it’s for the better.

I myself was disturbed by the ridiculing way she interrupted one member of the collective at a plenum where practical information about the camp was shared with the rest of the participants. One woman started to explain about the bathing,washing-place, that the water was in a large canister, and that there was a soap and a cup to take the water with – at this moment the man was saying “And then you take the water, and wash from left to right” – after which the woman continued with a tired expression, to explain that she actually had a point with this information, wanting to remind persons to be careful not to get soap in the water when dipping the cup into the canister. This was just one out of many unnecessary interruptions made in the same manner.

Conflict Two: Was a conflict regarding repression that I myself was facing at the event. This came out in a general bullying attitude expressed by a few individuals [with especially one woman having a particularly nasty attitude towards me], culminating with a situation involving the friend of the man from the collective, who was also practicing excessive consumption of alcohol at the camp (24 hour drinking, with sleeping breaks). This man had an open anti-feminist stand (as well as a few others attending the gathering), saying that feminists are ‘sexist’ against men. She was convinced after having a conversation with me, that I had been traumatized because of rape, and that I now hated men. At one occasion she woke me up at 7 o’clock in the morning, sitting on the bed where I was sleeping, trying to convince me in a very aggressive way, that I should sleep with her “like a teddy-bear” and that I was a hateful person for rejecting the suggestion. I offered the sofa to her, but she said that the backpacks on it were “too heavy to lift”, and when I got out of bed to put the bags on the floor, she was declaring “NO!” with a loud voice. She continued sitting on the bed in spite of me saying that I felt uncomfortable, and that she should go elsewhere. Both verbally as well as physically (she was untying her boots, taking them off) she was making it clear that she didn’t accept a no as an answer.

I kept repeating that I felt uncomfortable and that I wanted her to go away. That I have a right to set my own boundaries without being called man-hater or “not anarchist”. That she herself was the one with the hateful and disrespectful attitude. I also told her that I didn’t want to have this discussion with her now, when she was drunk, but that I would bring it up again with her at another moment.

Eventually the other woman sleeping in the room said that the man could take her bed. This was repeated many times. She went out into the kitchen to change her clothes (she had also stayed up drinking till early morning, and just gotten into bed).

After the woman had taken the bags off the sofa, lying down, still repeating “Go to bed. Go to sleep” it took about five minutes before the man went to the other bed to sleep. And this only after I had finally pulled my sleeping bag over my head, as a clear sign that I would not continue the discussion. [There are differing opinions for how long the situation continued. I say: 15-20 minutes. The woman said: 2 to 3 and later “okay maybe 5, max 10” minutes. The man: At first when I brought the situation up at a general meeting loudly declaring “it’s not true! One minute, not more!” later agreeing on that the situation could have even lasted up to 20 minutes.]

The repression [utter disrespect!] I was trying to deal with and repeatedly tried to bring up in spite of emotional exhaustion and insensitive ways of (some of) the persons trying to support, was very often dealt with as a ‘personal’ problem that I was ‘exaggerating’. The support was random and could switch from one moment to another, one woman – making a brilliant workshop on electricity – who had at first offered support in getting a meeting on this issue, changed her mind after hearing the stories of other persons, as well as listening to the guy telling her that she had already apologized to me [not true] and that she admitted that she had done a mistake [up for interpretation]. The woman who had first offered support was now instead telling me that she would feel used by me if she got a meeting together, and since there was nothing ‘sexual’ about the situation that I “exaggerated” what had happened and when I was showing sadness, beginning to cry, she said: “This is just what I mean, you just victimize yourself” – there seemed to be huge differences in how we define ‘sexism’ and what we define as ‘personal’ or ‘political’. Concepts like Power of Definition and Partiality were far from being general knowledge and practice in this space.

My days at the camp were mostly spent dealing with the negative consequences of this conflict, in being faced with ignorant damaging attitudes (for instance: the open denial of sexism) and also the lack of sensitive emotional and political support. My only way of dealing with the conflict was to endlessly repeat the story, over and over again, to see if I could find persons relating to my reality.

I lost a lot of energy trying to arrange meetings with the man to talk the situation through in spite of her unwillingness to deal with it.

I was exposed to listening to her story over and over again. She figuring I’m a man-hater, and that she had thought she could cure this by waking me up in the morning and coerce me into being her teddy-bear. As she described it: “Like overcoming arachnophobia” you put spiders on the arm of the person till they get used to it, and overcome their fear. It was an insult and offense having to listen to this sexist madness over and over again. In one of the discussions right at the end of the camp, we were about ten to thirteen people in a group talking about this issue. Apart from being drunk as usual, and standing right next to group taking a piss, and in the talk constantly interrupting everyone else speaking. She finally admitted that it was a mistake to assume that she could cure me this way. And yet: Still sticking with the assumption that I’m a sexist man-hater, in need of healing.

[when i spoke of domination, power imbalances, oppression existing at our camp, in our everyday interaction this man was stating that: “No there is no oppression, because we are amongst friends”.]

The repression of my politics really gets to an absurd level when I sit and listen to a man passionately declaring “i HATE sexism”, and with this meaning that I – a feminist activist woman, that she clearly has some phobia against – am a part of the problem and not the solution… And herself then being the anti-sexist hero, declaring that it’s shocking that we as anarchists do not share bed-space with anybody who so wishes, and even considers it to be an anti-sexist act to coerce others into physical intimacy.

At the camp there seemed to be a general unawareness of what sexism is, and the gender roles we perpetuate on a daily (every second, every minute) basis. The woman who slept in the same room was asking me if I would have reacted the same way if it was a woman and not a man waking me up. I tried to explain that I didn’t really know. It all depends on the specific situation. But that I would find it likely that I wouldn’t be okay with sharing bed-space with a person who previously had declared me “paranoid” “man-hater” “sexist” and being drunk 7 in the morning.

I forgot to ask her about herself walking into the kitchen changing clothes there. When we had been alone she had done it in the room. Was it a ‘sexist’ act of her to treat this man as ‘other’ and not change her clothes in front of the guy? (According to the logic used in the discussion group, I guess it would be seen that way. At least if I would have done it…)

A woman with experiences from separatist and queer space in Berlin was asking the man if she would behave the same way towards a man. The guy answered yes to that question, after which the woman came to the conclusion that this wasn’t an issue that had anything to do with sexism, since we both said we would have acted the same way even if the sex of the person would have been different.

Too bad it was a hypothetical question. I would have liked to know if the guy had asked to sleep close with any men at the camp, refusing to take rejection. As far as I know, this is not the case. Instead I got to hear that more women had been exposed to the same behavior as I had. The guy coming in drunk [and sexist] demanding to share sleeping space even though other space was pointed out (once again going “NO!”). She was even exposed to harsher rejections than mine. One woman had after the man refused the sofa, said that the guy wasn’t even welcome in the same room anymore.

Was this also perceived as ‘sexism’ towards the guy? [Political exclusion..?] A camp full of man-haters?

It was a camp with many levels of awareness, and few means (and little will) to communicate the differences without recreating an oppressive atmosphere for the ones with a greater consciousness (sensitivity) of these issues.

I hope the next camp will be different. Not so scared of conflict. Prepared for conflict.