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The Best Of The Anarchives Volume One "Fuck Off You Pathetic Asshole!" Anonymously contributed A while ago a girl asked me, what would you rather be, raped or killed? My reply was neither. An easy answer? Maybe. She said she would rather be raped. What she didn't know was that when your raped the pain doesn't stop when the man walks away, the pain never stops. At least when your killed your dead and you can't feel anything. Sometimes I feel dead inside, numb but I know that the numbness will thaw and eventually I will feel that pain again and again. I was raped when I was seven by my babysitter's son. I remember little of the actual act I only remember the guilt, humiliation and embarrassment I felt. I told my mother about it and nothing was done. I even kept on seeing the same babysitter long after the rape occurred. I confronted my mother a year ago and asked her why she didn't protect me. She had no reply that could make up for what had happened. So far the only people I've told about the rape are a few close friends and my mother. I've sat by watching some of the most horrible acts against women, not saying a word. The repercussions of rape are countless and buried deep in my subconsciousness but every time a guy utters a sexist or demeaning comment or touches me when I don't want to be touched I feel raped all over again. Raped of my dignity and pride as a woman. A definition of rape is a capturing or snatching away by force. One day at school when I was at my locker a guy who I hardly knew came up to from behind me and whispered in my ear, "Hi, beautiful. Looking good today." Feeling trapped and embarrassed I just smiled and he went away. That boy made me feel beneath him, something pretty for him to look at and touch. He made me feel cheap and mindless. He also made me feel angry at my self for not saying, "Fuck off you pathetic asshole!" At that moment when he was behind me with his hands touching my waist he had power over me. he was the God of my destiny. He raped me of my own self worth. It happens all the time to me and women everywhere. As you're reading this right now a women is smiling and pretending that it doesn't hurt. This has got to stop! People say, "Well why don't girls just tell the guy off." to understand the answer to this you have to understand that women have been taught to judge themselves by their appearance and not by their brains. So some girls are actually, in a sick way, flattered by sexist comments. Others are just afraid to say anything because they've learned to smile and keep their mouth shut. Recently someone told me that they're sick of women whining about how men rape them and then they don't do anything about it. First of all women shouldn't have to deal with this shit in the first place. But we aren't protected so we have to fight. An important way of fighting is to have self-respect. By having self respect you don't let a guy steal away your self worth. Remember you're more than a beautiful womanly body. You also have an amazing personality, and you are way smarter than any stupid idiot who puts you down. Get some courage and an attitude. The next time some jock makes a comment about your breasts tell him that he's nothing but a loser who bullies women because he himself is insecure about his penis size, or something to that effect. You can also take official action by reporting any sexual harassment to a principal or councillor at school. The most important thing is to stop feeling guilty. If you were raped tell someone because you don't deserve to go through the pain alone feeling isolated and embarrassed. Women are in no way responsible for rape or sexual harassment. These acts are committed against women by men. These acts will never stop unless men take responsibility for what they have done and begin to unclench their fists. Until then women must band together and begin to fight back. For now I will tuck that smile away into my pocket and save it for when a man treats me with respect and as his equal. I'm A Feminist, Dammit! by: Laura Reynolds I recall a conversation Lisa and I had a couple of years ago about the label of `feminist'. Lisa being the wise woman that she is, insisted that she was a feminist and that I was one too. Instantly I visualized myself as an overpowering, pushy, ugly, and sexually oppressed woman. "No," I shrieked, "I'm no feminist!" But since then I've come to realise that being a feminist doesn't mean that you have to give up your femininity but rather that you fight for the right to express it. Feminists have received a bad name mostly because of fear. Women have gained many rights as an organized movement such as the right to vote. In an attempt to dismantle the woman's movement society has created a not so appealing image of feminists. Some men fear that feminists will take some of what they've got, power. It's easier to remain in control if the oppressed group stay passive. When revolt begins it seems that the oppressor, in a desperate attempt to remain in power, tightens their grip on the oppressed. This is evident in the emergence of the beauty myth which has women enslaved by their own bodies. Feminists today have a hard time balancing their own personal ideas of beauty and still refusing to give into the beauty myth. However it must not be forgotten that feminists believe in equal rights. Those rights include wearing as much lipstick as you want, wearing short skirts if you want, and being able to get the same job any man can without being harassed. Although it is beneficial that a movement contains unity, all feminists do not have the same ideas on everything. For example Camille Paglia thinks that by being weak women are inviting oppression. She is also very media centred and likes modern technology. This differs greatly from other feminists who feel that men should take more responsibility for their actions and others who feel the world should return to a more natural state where women are one with nature. Just because you may oppose one of these feminist philosophies does not mean you can't call yourself a feminist. If you are a man or woman who believes women are equal to men and you actually voice this opinion, then you are a feminist. Some are weary of labels which they consider limiting. When I hear this argument I wonder in amazement, what greater freedom can you experience then fighting for your own human rights? To me it is an honour to be considered a feminist because it means that I am a woman who doesn't accept a subservient role in society but rather I question and challenge it. I feel immense pride in the struggle that women have endured to be considered at least human and I would never forsake my own sex by denying and forgetting all that women have fought for. So to all you non-believers, Feminism in your face!! SKOOL by: Julie Birrell The building is red; the burnt brick colour of a dying fire's glowing embers. It is huge, sprawling and menacing, spread out like a giant octopus, groping with long tentacles towards me, reaching seductively, pulling me in. Each window winks darkly, a thousand evil eyes watching my every move, taking in each motion with sinister precision. Huge ancient trees stand in the shadow of the looming building, their life and ancient glory blotted out by the all-encompassing aura of the stagnant edifice. Wet grass swishes as I walk slowly towards the front doors. They are beckoning, enticing me into the somber reality of the structure. The door opens easily, and sighs shut as if content with it's latest capture. As the latch clicks with deadly finality, a scent slams into my nostrils, ravaging my olfactory nerves. It is the smell of old books, Stagnating knowledge and dead inspiration. My fists clench as if ready for combat, I heave a sigh that shakes my body to it's foundations and flight off the feeling that the walls are closing in slowly, encompassing me with the sure death of lost individuality. I move my feet up the stairs with effort and enter the main foyer. Thus begins another day at school. Unfamiliar faces swim before my eyes, mixing and melting into a sea of flesh whose tide comes in every forty-five minutes with the grating greetings of the bell. The bodies are merely shells. Eyes stare blankly, taking in information, processing it, spewing it back out in an endless, morbid cycle. I thread my way through the crowd of walking zombies, clawing desperately for something or someone to hold on to before sinking into the abyss of their unified mind. Their sameness oppresses me, envelopes me like quicksand, dry and lifeless, scratchy and uncomfortable...suffocating. I see something suddenly, a breif tap of familiarity on my peripheral vison. I turn quickly, a terrible hop blooming in my heart. There it is: the familiar gait, a weary hand through the hair. She smiles when she sees me-it's like coming home. I bask in the comfortable light of her grin, feeling warmth return to my limbs. A small area of clean air gathers around us as we talk, and become fresher and newer wiith each short burst of laughter. This is my lifeline, the key that quietly unlocks the door to survival. Alone, I fight desperately not to be overcome by the horror of school. Together, we draw on each other, and it eases the struggle. At school, I am a number. I am graded with numbers, my futuredepends on numbers. I hate numbers. They are cold and unfeeling, shutting out the whole experience of emotions.Therefore, I find it hard to swallow the fact that my abilities are evaluated woth numbers. I deserve more thatn having it sucked out by a number. To office staff, I am a number before a record, a record before a name, a name before a person. I want more than that. I want more than orders from people who simply have authority because they were numbers before me. It's dehumanizing. I feel. I think. Why doesn't somebody realize that I am not succumbing to the sameness, the loss of identity I want to learn. When are they going to stop evaluating me and let me start learning? Anarchy and peace by Paul Q.P. The first realization we have to make is that we, as people are individuals and almost infinitely diverse in our views and philosophies. The second thing we need to recognize is that we, as part of an eclectic culture\species are essentially the same in our rudimentary needs and beliefs. For instance, most of us have a need to fustify our existence with a purpose, or a god, or a cause, job, partner, children etc. On a more basic level, we all need to eat, but we all have our particular preferences. It can be said that we are as a garden, all brought forth from the same soil, yet all blooming into different flowers. The third truth of life, which is widely recognized but usually represed, and those willing to deal with it are called morbid or pessimistic, is that our time as individuals is extremely limited on this rock, which some of us like to call Earth. However, in this truth lies another, sometimes ignored yet always around us, that our time as a species is also finite, in fact our entire universe is said to be on a high sppeen coolision with nothingness. But let us not dwell on the realities of life, it's not healthy for a developing mind. Let us instead deal with abstractions, they are much easier to handel. Having realized that we are all essentially the same, while being extremely diversifed, and that death will come probably before we are ready for it, one must ask a few questions. Not the philosophical dribble of 'who am I?' or 'what am I doing here?', but something a bit more concrete; 'Who are these fuckers telling me what to do?' or more to the point; 'What or who gave these fuckers the right to tell me how I should live?'. To answer such a question we need to clarify some terms. Who are these 'fuckers'? I've heard them referred to as the ominous 'They' or 'the system' or 'bureaucrats' or 'suits' or 'the man', but whatever we call them, the fact that they are people does not change, to quote the proverbial slogans of CRASS; 'Systems just aren't made of bricks they're mostly made of people, you may send them into hiding, but they'll be back again.' But it still leaves the question of 'who are they?' unanswered. Well 'they' are people like you and I, that's one thing we know for certain. Secondly they are very different from you and I because of their upbringing, their life experiences, their wants, their taste in food etc. Thirdly, like you and I, they will die one day, propbably sooner than we, as they are usually older. We know they are people. 'So what' you might ask. You'd be surprised at how many people seem to think of the establishment as a big unidentifiable mass. A belief like that is not healthy as it gives those in power the advantage of intimidation. So it is fundamentally imperative that we recognize these 'fuckers' as people, to get rid of the intimidation factor. But let us get more specfic. Who are these people? On a personal level, they are your parents, your teachers, sometimes your friends. They are the vice principals, the principals, the bureacrats, the superintendents. On a larger scale they are the police, the army, Queens Park, Ottawa, the U.N., the banks, the managers, etc etc etc. These people are not evil, they are not all power hungry mingfuckers, they are not all out to get you. But a lot of them are. It is up to you individually to recognize those who would help you and those who would turn you into a cog in their fucked up machinery. Do not be irrational in your decisiions, it is always better to get help if you can, than to do things on you own. Use the establishment as it would use you. Remember the establishment does have its' good points. Nothing is black and white now that we have colour T.V.'s. If the establishment is comprised of people like you and me than what has sustained it for these thousands of years? Actually our systems of government have been very unstable, experiencing revolution almost like clockwork (take some history you'll find out the specs). It is hard work sustaining power. So how do they do it? A lot of people will have you believe that knowledge brings power. That's bullshit, as Kurt Vonnegut puts it; 'Knowledge is so much junk to be processed one way or another at great universities.' Idon't mean to say that knowledge is useless and that we should all stay ignorant, but most of the shit we are taught in schools is useless to us, but they teach us because they need fresh minds filled with their propaganda and bullshit to use up and discard once they are warped beyond recognition. Learn to learn on your own, read the books they don't want you to read, listen to the music they censor, tell them to fuck off with their brainwashing scam, because they will never teach you anything that will not benefit them first. If you think I am paranoid then you are living in a world of dreams. Do you actually believe that your parents and teachers and government officials are spending millions of dollars teaching you just to give you knowledge for your own benefit? They are scared shitless. Scared that their fucked up system will collapse without new support, without new brainwashed puppets. Scared because they know they eill die soon and they'd like to live off your anything they 'give' you is for you, they'll demand it all back, or throw you out on the street and call you one of the unfortunates to be pitied by the rest of society. A lot of people maintain that money brings power. That's true, in a sense. But money is more of a device used to sustain power, once it has been obtained. We are living in an age where money is the great class divider. What are our classes based on but income? Your net financial worth determines your place in society. If you really believe that the government or banks or major corporations are racist or sexist, then wake the fuck up. The bank of Canada doesn't give a fuck if the money they get comes from a woman or mans or Black or Indians hands. It's all the same money. The problem is that most of the money lies in the hands of white males. But we are fooled into thinking that there is a division made between Blacks and Whites and Jews and Indians and Orientals. There is no division, we are all considered a mass, which offers those in power a way to make tonnes of money, a plateau from which they can reap the harvest they've planted. At tthe same time it gives us reasons to hate each other, creating divisions, keeping us scattered and ignorant of the truth. Unable to unite, unable to fight, the power. Why not just make lots of money and join the elites? Because you're dreaming if you think you will. Sure you get the occassional lucky person winning a few million in a lotery, or getting lucky with the stock market. But these sums are irrelevant, unless you obtain billions or trillions you can forget about having any impact on the structure. The few people that do become millionaires from being poor are just symbols to sustain the belief that it is possible to join the economic elites, and secondly for every success story there are millions (without exaggeration) of failures. Knowledge is a tool you can buy, from any local university, for a mere $10,000 or $20,000. Money is something you'll never obtain, unless you have it to begin eith. Knowledge or money does not bring or sustain power, they have something much more effective. It is called FORCE. They use it all the time. Don't believe me? You don't have to, go to your library and look up some headlines from 1991 and 92, concerning L.A. and Toronto riots. Even then you will not be exposed to the full scale of their force. Next time there is a riot in Toronto (and there will be a lot more) go downtown and check it out. Study their power carefully; they have clubs, little guns, big guns, tear gas, horses, plastic bullets, real bullets, little bombs, big bombs that destroy whole cities with a single bang, anything you might need to beat down a few thousand people. That is the extent of their power. That is why no revolution has succeeded without violence. But violence is no solution. It leads to more violence. And besides the army and police have enough force to crush any violent uprising, barring a nation wide incident (look at Oka). There is a more effective way, but much harder. Don't play their game, don't let them pull you into their fucked up machinery, think on your own, they are no better than you. Just look what our predecessors have done to our economy, our planet, our minds, they are vampires ready to suck your blood. Avoid them when you can, and be quick to make friends, numbers will make us strong, and weaken their grip. As Chuck D puts it "How to fight the power, cannot run and hide, but it shouldn't be suicide, Move as a team, never move alone, but welcome to the terordome". We have to walk a fine line between becomming irrational or getting sucked in, but don't give up hope, they've fucked up our world, but we have to try and fix it. Anarchy can work not as a political ideology but a way of life. We all need to be involved, it's really fucked up out there stay together and don't get caught up in the machinery. "Be exactly who you want to be, do what you want to do, I am he and she is she but you're the only you, no one else has got your eyes, can see the things you see. It's up to you to change your life, and my life's up to me. The problems that you suffer from are prblems that you make, the shit we have to climb through is the shit we choose to take. If you don't like the life you live, change it now it's yours. Nothing has effect if you don't recognize the cause, if the programme's not the one you want, get up turn off the set, it's only you that can decide what life you're gonna get. If you don't like religion you can be the antichrist, if you're tired of polititics you can be the antarchist. If you don't like the rules they make refuse to play their game, If you don't want to be a number don't give them your name, If youdon't want to be caught out, refuse to hear their question, silence is a virtue, use it for your protection. They'll try to make you play their game, refuse to show your face, If you don't want to be beaten down, refuse to join their race, Be exactly who you want to be, do what you want to do..." CRASS "Big A Little a" 1980 Out Of Touch by Jesse Hirsh Act One Scene One Setting: A english office, on a spring Monday morning. Two characters are involved, Mr. Tenderass, a History Department head, and Joe Schmoe, a student. Mr. Tenderass: So you're trying to tell me that you think that teachers are not people, or at least when they're in the classroom they're not. Is that correct? Joe: Yes sir. I feel that a teacher has a responsibility to his students, and that comes first, before the teacher is a person. This means that if a student criticizes a teacher, then he is criticizing the teaching abilities of the teacher, not the individual actually doing the teaching. Mr. Tenderass: Yes I see. And you criticize one of these teachers by saying that you chose a poem you have studied for them because it would "freak the shit out of" that particular teacher. Well that is not a criticism of that particular teacher, but a personal assault. You flagrantly abused that teacher, scaring her, knowing full well that your actions would harm her emotionally. Joe: But sir- Mr. Tenderass: NO BUTS! You must learn a lesson young man, that it is not acceptable to criticize your teachers in that way. For that matter I find it very disturbing that you would actually think that teachers are not people. Joe: Well sir, its not that I don't think teachers aren't people, that's just the way I feel. I've been going to school for almost fourteen years now, and for fourteen straight years I've had teachers shove loads of useless information, useless rules, and in this case useless assignments down my throat until I almost choked from the lack of real substance. And if you want me to believe that I am a freak for feeling this way, then I'm sorry but they're are numerous others who feel the same way. Mr. Tenderass: Well I think that you are a very unimaginative person for thinking that way. Teachers are people too! We have feelings you know. We're not all a bunch of Nazis or something. Joe: I didn't say that- Mr. Tenderass: Whatever! You still offended Ms. Weakwilled, and I demand that you give her an apology. After all I expect better behaviour from an OAC student. As well I think you should re-evaluate the way you think about teachers. It is wrong to think that way. Now run along... Joe: Yes sir... Scene Two Scene: Later that night in the bedroom of Mr. Tenderass. Mr. Tenderass and Mrs. Tenderass are having a discussion about their days at work. Mr. Tenderass: So did anything interesting happen in your day today dear? Mrs. Tenderass: Not really. The bank foreclosed on a couple of houses, and I approved another mortgage to a beautiful young couple just starting off. They looked so cute. It reminded me of you and I when we first started off. A couple of kids, just out of the peace corps, happy 'cause we had just changed the world. Nothing could go wrong back then. We had the energy of youth, love beads, long hair, genuine Grateful Dead paraphenalia, a bean sprouter, and an authentic African shirt. Your dad gave us the money for a down payment on the house, which was very nice of him considering he had paid for you to get through school. We were all set for our new lives. And look where we are now. I'm manager of the local bank, and you're the head of an English Department. Boy would our old friends from school be jealous now. Wow, weren't the sixties a great time honey? Mr. Tenderass: Yes dear they were. Back then the youth had some direction. Not like the youth of today. For example I had an incident earlier this morning with a student, which left me very cross. He had no respect for his elders. For that matter he seemed as if he had very little respect for anything at all. He went on saying that teachers are not people, and that their first duty is to educate. I've always felt that a teacher can be an educator and a friend to any student in need. I learnt that in the sixties. So this student makes a personal assasult on one of my teachers Ms. Weakwilled, and I felt compelled to deal with him. You know dear, back in our day we had respect for our teachers. We would never swear to them or say anything out of line. We always looked at them as the great people that they were. I mean that's why I went into teaching. But I simply can't handle students like this insubordinate son of a bitch who I had today. His kind do not belong in the school system. They really mess it up. Do you know how hard it is to conduct a class when trouble makers like him question all that you do? It is almost impossible for me to conduct an orderly class when student's openly questions how I might be distributing marks in relation to the efforts put into assignments. Why can't everything be cut and dry? Hopefully, if the board listens to my suggestions, they will have standardized tests implemented into high school, at somepoint in the next three years. That will weed out, and remove problems like that Joe Schmoe kid. Mrs. Tenderass: Now honey buns, why don't you relax and go to sleep. Everything will look a lot cheerier when the sun comes up. Mr. Tenderass: Yes, I suppose you're right dearest. Goodnight. Scene Three Scene: Mr. Tenderass is having a dream. The dream takes place in a school, school yard, and the rest of Mr. Tenderass' imagination. Mr. Tenderass: Hey! Kid! What are you writing on that wall? Hey wait a minute come back here! I want to talk to you! Damn long haired freak. Let's see what he wrote. "Don't trust anyone over the age of twenty one... this incudes teachers." Why that little punk. I'm going to make an example out of him. (Running sound heard) I think he ran out towards the courtyard. Hey come back here! Don't go down that hole, I won't let you get away. I guess I better follow after him. Damn it's dark in here. I can't see a thing. Maybe I better light a match. (Match sound) Ther that's better. Where am I? I'm in a hallway. I guess I better ask a student if they know where that little hooligan ran off to. Excuse me? Young man in the, ugh, vest is it? Did you see a naughty student with long hair run by with a big marker in his hand? Student1: No way man. I can only see the pretty lights. Mr. Tenderass: Crack kills kid. Get out of my way. I have to find this student and teach him a lesson he'll never forget. If he gets away I'll never forgive myself. Hey you, the girl with the purple sunglasses, flowers, and ugly beads, have you seen a long haired little hooligan running with a big marker in his hand. Student2: Why would I want to rat on a peace loving individual like the one you described Mr. mad English teacher sir? I mean why don't you just take it easy man. Lay back and enjoy the scenary dude. Mr. Tenderass: Get out of my way you peace loving slut. I have no time for the likes of you, I am a respected English Department head. I have no time for your drivel. Wait! That's the hooligan there! Running into that storage room. Come back here your freak! Ha Ha. Now I've got you. Cornered in a one-door room with no where left to run. Why don't you show yourself you sniveling little beast. Let me see who you really are.... Why, you look a lot like...Oh No, it couldn't be.... It's me...Noooooooo..... /-/\-\ The Anarchy Organization | / / \ \ Free Minds For Free Lives ( | ) --|-/----\-\-- yakimov@ecf.utoronto.ca \|/ \/ \/ jterpstra@trentu.ca `_^_'