Yesterday on the train I was knitting a scarf, like ya do, and this woman sitting across from me confirmed a hypothesis I’ve been considering for the past year or so – “I like watching your knitting – it’s therapeutic.”
I thought so! I love knitting on the train because I find people’s eyes affixed, hypnotized, at the yarn moving steadily. It’s a genuine connection from others that lacks the creepiness of random staring. Plus, it’s therapeutic for me, too!
Thank fake Jesus because I need it. I saw, and was blown away by, Manchester by the Sea last weekend, and subsequently found out that Casey Affleck is a sexual predator and no one gives a shit – in fact, he’s slated to win the Oscar for best actor. Meanwhile, Nate Parker (who is also a sexual predator, by the way. Not excusing any of these garbage trucks) was dragged through the mud and lost all Oscar prospects when his sexual predation was pulled into the spotlight.
This certainly exhibits something about white privilege – a Brock Turner vs. Cory Batey situation, a situation that’s been playing out since the dawn of this fucking country. But it says something more about male privilege in general – and our (us being the public, and especially the female public) literal inability to trust any man in power. Nate Parker still has a fucking career, and his victim killed herself. Chris Brown. Bill Cosby. Woody Allen. The list is straight up endless, and y’all don’t need me to tell you. It hurts when you admire the art of a man who betrays you and shows what power did to his impulses; meanwhile, the cognitive dissonance of masterful artists like Roman Polanski or David Bowie and their already well-known affinity for predatory actions, forces women to decide between enjoying art and acting in their own self-interest. Even my most woke male ally friends don’t seem to have this internal struggle.
A rock and a hard place, AKA oppression at its core. So fun!
As a little consolation prize for everything being so fucked up, enjoy these Google images of “friends knitting”: