by Andy Nowicki
As a self-proclaimed "low status male" now well into his forties, I have never suffered a midlife crisis, because I never knew “glory” in my youth. Or rather, the only “glory” I ever recall predates puberty, and thus bears no relation to the subject under discussion. (For me—as I have explained elsewhere—glory belonged to those days of golden innocence, before the onset of sexualization, and the concomitant corruption it brings.)
The Toronto van massacre undertaken by an apparent “incel” in April of 2018 first thrust the formerly reclusive “involuntary celibate” subculture into the national spotlight. A month later, when some sources claimed that the SanteFe school shooter also had apparent incel-esque motivations, this already much-maligned demographic was subjected to yet another round of hostile scrutiny from a vindictive and dishonest media establishment.
It should be emphasized, in both cases, that the murderer’s rumored incel identity might prove to be entirely erroneous. But whether real or fabricated, a perceived notion has gained traction: namely, that lonely, low-status men are growing increasingly angry and embittered at their predicament, and are pursuing ever-more desperate means of catharsis—including the commission of mass murder—to halt their perpetual humiliation and stem their forever-unchecked misery.
It should be emphasized, in both cases, that the murderer’s rumored incel identity might prove to be entirely erroneous. But whether real or fabricated, a perceived notion has gained traction: namely, that lonely, low-status men are growing increasingly angry and embittered at their predicament, and are pursuing ever-more desperate means of catharsis—including the commission of mass murder—to halt their perpetual humiliation and stem their forever-unchecked misery.
As the author of a series of works going under the title Ruminations of a Low-Status Male, I feel myself possessed of an obligation to address the incel phenomenon with an eye towards broader, civilizational concerns. I began this series with a blunt and unqualified statement: “I am not a successful man.” I meant what I said then, and I mean it now.
Thus, I in no wise speak condescendingly to anyone on this subject. I certainly do not perceive the incel as my inferior. He could even be said to be my spiritual “brother,” in a way. I do, however, view the incel mindset, as I have come to understand it, as fatally lacking in wisdom or foresight. In fact—to posit the very sort of “horseshoe theory” so commonly reflexively mocked in certain circles today—I think a case can be made that embracing the incel perspective is little better than embracing the very perspective that the standard incel is most likely to despise.
Indeed, in a dialectical sense, the incel “contains his opposite,” namely the so-called “Chad”; that is, sexually successful man who is always able to maintain a harem of desirable women, or—again, in incel-speak—“Stacies.”
Chad and Incel both, after all, share identical values. Both perceive sexual success with women as a goal worthy of sacrifice. Both are brazen status-seekers, insofar as having and maintaining high status tends to assist in a man’s continued obtainment sexual success. In the case of the Incels, however, the status they wish to attain hasn’t been granted; thus, they might more properly be called status-enviers and status-coveters.
The Chad, meanwhile, gets the status he seeks, and is rewarded with sexual success; he prides himself on having gained this type of status, and puts a premium on keeping it.
Should he (the Chad) ever find himself losing access to sexual success, he will suffer a crisis of doubt. He will be tortured by the idea that he “might not have it anymore,” and will feel moved to find desperate means to convince himself and the world that in fact he does still possess that suddenly elusive “it.” The notorious “midlife crisis” of the aging Chad is the equivalent to the plastic surgery-prone “cougar” phase of the aging Stacy; both are borne of a pitiful awareness that their glory is fading.
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As a self-proclaimed "low status male" now well into his forties, I have never suffered a midlife crisis, because I never knew “glory” in my youth. Or rather, the only “glory” I ever recall predates puberty, and thus bears no relation to the subject under discussion. (For me—as I have explained elsewhere—glory belonged to those days of golden innocence, before the onset of sexualization, and the concomitant corruption it brings.)
I do not consider myself an incel, but I suspect the incel has a similar immunity to youthful nostalgia, at least with regard to “glory” as ostensibly relates to the possession of high status. You can’t miss what you never had, although you certainly can continue to resent never having had it, which is what incels tend to do; hence their very embrace of the “incel” title.
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“Incel,” after all, is a mash-up of the phrase “involuntary celibate.”
“Involuntary” signifies that one’s celibate state is not by choice; it further strongly implies that if the incel had it in his power to relieve himself of his celibacy, he would. In fact, he dearly wishes that he could become sexually successful with women, and ferociously resents how women have rejected him.
Of course, much bogus rhetorical hay has been made by many a smug nitwit regarding the fact of the incel’s resentment. The ideological party-liners of our day have viciously condemned the incel for ostensibly believing himself to be “entitled’ to sex.
One hesitates to speak of individual cases, but broadly speaking this glib critique is extraordinarily disingenuous and moreover, hideously unkind. Desiring companionship, after all, is quite human; feeling frustrated at getting continually rebuffed in no way implies that one views oneself as possessed of entitlement.
Further, one is moved to wonder: would prostyltzers of SJW-favored categorizations of the population make such a hostile and dismissive retort when those within their favored ranks complain of being rejected? Would preachers of “fat acceptance” tell overweight girls that they are acting “entitled” if they report men not being willing to date them? Would trans-activists respond so unsympathetically to trans-women complaining of “cis”-prejudice amongst straight males?
In addition to this instance of brazen hypocrisy on display, the very act of incel-shaming on the part of our loathsome establishment reveals their free indulgence in lying cant and contemptible cruelty.
Scolding those who are down and out as if they were the villains is not only absurd, but—when performed without irony—patently obscene. And ramping up levels of mockery against those with the least amount of social status—as left-leaning establishment sources have continually done when discussing incels—is the very definition of the very bullying behavior those same left-leaning sources make the most noise about ostensibly being against. (It is almost as if—perish the thought! establishmentarian leftists habitually behave like vile hypocrites…)
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Unfortunately, infamous spree killer Elliot Rodger is commonly identified as the proto-incel figure, and the pre-massacre videos he recorded in 2014 reinforce a sort of “entitlement” notion in an almost comical way. “Look at me, I’m magnificent!” Rodger preeningly declares at one moment, mourning how the beautiful blonde sorority girls he desired all went for musclehead jocks instead of superior specimens like himself.
But even if Rodger’s case, the discerning observer can easily see that the arrogance he projects is nothing more that sheer bluster; he talks himself up because he feels put down and asserts his superiority entirely defensively.
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In any event, Rogers’s response to his circumstances is of dubious relevance when considered in light of the incel phenomenon, generally speaking. The incels’ folly lies not in their displaying any proclivity to mayhem, nor does it even lie in their frequently manifested spite and bitterness. For the most part, incels are not violent men, and their anger and frustration is in a way understandable, given that their biologically-ingrained desires are continually being frustrated. Would we scorn the hungry for being denied food? Would we scold the thirsty for desiring the cooling taste of water?
Instead, the incels’ folly lies in their buying into the societally-reinforced notion of status: the notion that if you aren’t a romantic success you are nothing; that a man’s worth is determined by the amount of validation he receives from women. These are the baleful bugaboos that the incel must learn to overcome.