BEAUTY AND THE PATRIARCHY

by Michael Grant

I'd like to preface this article with the observation that I think Andy Nowicki is a thoughtful, articulate observer of the New Right, as well as the moral and spiritual wasteland that lies beyond it. That said, in his article "The Patriarchy" and Proper Manhood he seems to have committed the intellectual equivalent of one of those stagger-steps one can't help but do when walking past a lovely woman on the sidewalk.

I'm going to do the equivalent of filming this fumble with a high-speed camera, slow down the footage, and show exactly how and where he went wrong.

'THE PATRIARCHY' AND PROPER MANHOOD

Be a "man of steel," not a "playa"

by Andy Nowicki

Recently The Patriarchy, a Facebook page geared towards young nationalist men, ran a series of posts, each of which featured an eye-catching picture of a highly attractive young woman possessed of an apparently impeccable traditionalist orientation and mindset. In each case, the text below the comely lass took the form of a pep talk: “Come on lads, don’t give up! Play your cards right, get your shit together, and something like this could be yours!!!”

Responses to these posts, which I am paraphrasing here, ranged from  expressions of sullenly cynical Return of Kings-esque bon mots (“No way a girl like that really exists in the West – these days, they’re all a bunch of fat, skanky liberal feminist sluts!!!”) to effusions of simple mouth-agape admiration (“Whoa, she’s HOT!!!”) to displays of good-naturedly brazen, jovial braggadocio (“Get away from her, you bunch of losers… she’s MINE!”), to general declarations of approval with the overall message of the post (“What an inspiring speech! I won’t give up!”), each post more emphatic than the last (as signified here by the copious exclamation marks).

And I suppose it was all somewhat touching, in a way. The editor in question (I presume a slightly older, though still rather young man, perhaps in his early 30s) wished to instruct his youthful comrades not to despair, because dark as things may seem, victory is actually within their grasp; “We few, we happy few, we band of brothers,” and all that. But I nevertheless found something about the scene quite unsettling; watching the feeding frenzy of commenters, each desperately tearing away a digestible message from the bewitching images on display, reminded me that even among those pockets of resistance to the cultural miasma that is the rancid mainstream, an air of conspicuously degraded sensualism still pervades.