Human Nature

I was misanthropic before I even knew what it was to be misanthropic.  I was young and a dilettante in life, I was rowing clumsily in the lake of wisdom, appropriating feelings that were never mine.  What did I have to be misanthropic about, then?  Sure, it made me feel special and different, and somewhat aware, but it never occurred to me to question the origins of my ersatz despair.  And I wonder, how many of us walk around with apocryphal pathologies that we trained our minds to believe.  How many of us have sacrificed real, unmitigated happiness because we deluded ourselves into believing something we never really felt?  But then again, how many of those schmaltzy feelings were later vindicated?

Depression is one of those feelings.  When you’ve hit rock bottom and you have nothing to look forward to, then yes, depression is a normal feeling.  It doesn’t need any explaining for a person to come to the obvious conclusion that certain situations in life leave us feeling utterly miserable.  And that’s completely normal.  But how can someone be depressed when they have myriads of stuff to look forward to?  That’s when it enters the realm of mental illness.  As does bipolarity.  How many of us have juggled differing personalities, as a result of being trapped in complex, diametrically opposed circumstances?  Whilst feelings of elation and misery are a juxtaposition, it doesn’t mean we cannot entertain both at the same time.

But many of us fake it, because we believe it to be true.  We feel placated by our desire to have something to label what we’re experiencing at a particular moment.  We feel vindicated without actually being vindicated.  But my opportune run-in with my deep-rooted fears helped me understand the drive behind general misanthropy.  I hated what had become of the human race, so morally depleted and consumed by their glib desires.  So utterly bereft of any substance or real direction.  Always at loggerheads with one another, one cutthroat religion battling another.  It was all fun and games until I realized that that’s not what misanthropy is about.  It’s normal to take one single glance at this cesspit and philosophize what I just did.

My real foray into misanthropy came at a cost.  Delving into my own arsenal of bitter emotions, I grappled with something that I couldn’t really situate.  The noble savage absconds from his primal abode to fight for the death, and he’s not really noble of course.  He’s consumed by irreverent motives, he endeavors to leave the battlefield without hearing a single plea for mercy.  Because he’s bludgeoned them all, and mercy isn’t something he understands.  He’s good when you know him, but he will still bludgeon you on that battlefield.  It’s a game, with distinct results at the end.  Either you, or him.  That’s when you know, misanthropy is a valid feeling.


Why I’m A Feminist In Mauritius

I’d ask myself the question, going over the possible reasons about whether I should adopt the label or not, encumbered by the various reactions (euphemism for insults) that would naturally ensue.  I do not understand how a very straight-forward concept has been warped by so many of its detractors, to the extent that sometimes the negative outweighs the positive.  And I’m somewhat in between of that spectrum, I understand that everything is nuanced in life, but do those who are more than eager to throw a whole movement under the bus, understand that very nuance?  I’m afraid not.  Why else, would one clamor for a revisionist stance on women’s rights?

I was born on the Paradise Island, I grew up here, I’m more than ”well-acquainted” with the culture, I’m a product of it.  And I despise it-the culture.  I was born a woman, and there lies my only crime.  So my life should be a whitewashed version of what it ought to be, similar to that of a reprobate who’s serving a life sentence.  I cannot be anything but a woman and by that I mean, their definition of a woman.  Their nurturing, feminine, grossly sexualized, timorous, servile counterpart.  If I cannot be those things, then tada-here comes a barrage of unwarranted, unfounded criticism.  Behold the blitzkrieg!

Let’s keep it real, multiculturalism rhymes with tolerance of the intolerant (okay it doesn’t, but you get the jibe).  Somehow, it’s acceptable in 2018 to expect women to abide by rules set in the dark ages.  Sure, those rules aren’t engraved on a mound in Port-Louis nor are they evinced religiously in the media; those are our mores, our norms.  And you might be asking yourself- Aren’t you just reaching?  Which is pretty normal, because those in a privileged position aren’t going to just open their minds all of a sudden, we are after all a deeply flawed species.  But no, I’m not reaching.  I’ve experienced this society from within-a society that gangs up on females for the crime of bodily autonomy, a society that expects mothers to be slaves to their families, a society that tells women they shouldn’t enjoy sex.  A society that turns a blind eye to domestic violence and abuse and then ponders-What is wrong with us?  Well, everything.

I have to google the definition of the word ‘Paradise’ because in our case, it’s such a misnomer.  Let’s just say it’s a paradise for those who wanna escape to luxury hotels whose walls guard them well from the perils of this deeply primitive society.  And what fuels that aversion, that deep vituperation, is the fact that women still don’t have access to reproductive rights.  It’s 2018 and religious crackpots are still dominating public opinion.  And I know, many people ( I mean it, many) don’t give a fuck about our ordeals as women, because they’re not attuned to the concept of empathy or extending their understanding to those they’ve marginalized and dehumanized their whole lives, but do try.  It will help you become a better person (if you want to).

What about those Soviet-era grannies warming the benches in the Parliament?  As women, we ought to recognize that, not every woman is a feminist.  These female MPs-cum-crooks have done nothing for the female cause, here in Mauritius.  Zilch.  Nada.  And what should they have done, you might ask?  Well use their fucking ostentatious degrees and positions to accomplish something…anything.  I don’t care how many females have been chosen for positions within the government, I don’t care about the copacetic lip service, what I care about is action and by action I mean, solid, undisputed action to address inequalities that hamper women’s pursuit of happiness here in Mauritius.