Tony, the prick

Tony visited Africa…twice.
He told all his friends about it. Making special mention to note how nice the people were. He had a good relationship with his tour guide and despite the obvious unequal power dynamic, it meant something to him.

As a marxist, he was always on the side of the poor.
As long as it upset his mother,
and not his own desires for capitalist comfort.

It wasn’t his fault the world works the way it is.
Besides two opinion pieces in the local online newspaper validated his solidarity with the struggle against inequality. He had nothing to prove.

And so when the child, begging.
swore at him as he sat at the back of the uber.
He had to concede, that the prejudice lodged against educated folk, like him
were uncalled for.

Innocence is not his fault.
He passed the child some money in the local currency, despite the obvious verbal abuse
to impress upon his wife

that she was not, in fact, as dumb as she was.

University had taught them to judge their peers who willingly accepted the same structural violences that Tony turned his nose up against, but accepted nonetheless. It was a complicated game of ‘who is the most righteous’ at dinner parties, that gave their sex life the boost it desperately needed.

because, skilled and equipped - he was not.

Anyways.

Tony was being Tony. Confident for no good reason. Besides as a gate keeper of privilege.

When the child refused the note
And told him that decolonial theory might not be present in his myopic reality, but poverty porn only really worked on women who were suppressing their queer identity. His wife leapt from the car, never to be seen again.

Riled, but looking for a good fight.
Tony stepped out of the uber,
(stupidly of course)
and told the kid to roll up his sleeves. The child was wearing a t-shirt.
and obviously smaller than Tony. Tony did enjoy the odd slice of cake.

The men of the area circled him.
Tony was a scared little mommy’s boy. But unfortunately he killed is mother in an unlikely dual with his own sadism.

“viva la revolution! I send money to the protests in Hong Kong, I am one of you!”

Sad little tony, destined for doom, had no idea who he decided to fuck with.

“Please don’t kill me, pleasedontkillme, pleeeeasssseeeee.” Tony begged.
But as established earlier, begging is not something to be shamed.
It was the assumption that these men were murderous that pulled their expressions into various forms of disgust.

“See folks, this Tony guy needs to be taught about intersectional feminism and why the freudian demonization of the mother is lazy thinking.” Then the child turned to Tony. “Tony, we are going to help you, because we realize that men are trash and it is our duty to prevent other men from being violent to women without expecting them to do that additional emotional labour.”

Tony was dumbstruck. Then said the only thing that made sense to him, because he understood why it didn’t make sense. “How do you know my name?”

“The nametag.”

Tony looked down at this Che Guevara t-shirt and noticed the name tag he sometimes wore for fun.

" You see Tony, there cannot be any successful uprising of the proletariat that ignores racial and gender injustices. "

“That is not true.”

“Well, if you class consciousness is something that is evident based on whatever elements of your lived reality that gave you insight into the violence of a globally observed economic system. Can you not also recognize that this historically linked to colonialism which was imagined and implemented by men making it inherently patriarchal?”

“Well not all men…”

“The thing is Tony, that when it comes to the average leftist leaning liberal particularly from the global north, the value system that becomes normalized is one that deems acceptable, the casual violent murder of the maternal body, for no real reason other than to be lazily provocative. This is really only okay because the established codes of conduct that frames creativity has not required any ethics about what is inappropriate.Yes? And…”

Tony regained his composure. He felt confident to debate this point. “Because to put boundaries on the creative process limits the potential of the process. Further, how could we really understand the intention of the writer? Perhaps, the murder would be an evocation of this exact point.”

"Ah, well Tony, the thing is, that these normalized value systems spread out across the entire world and are mostly left unchallenged. The creative process is thus dulled by people who decide this option, as it is a well beaten track. Further, as a man to suggest that the metaphoric violence perpetuated against the female body is somehow generative, for the sake of his own intellectual prowess, is a violent ideology that underpins actual violence and rape culture.

In fact, perhaps you may find that the systems that will overthrow capitalism rejects the value systems you hold as innocent. Perhaps embedded in an intersectional and decolonial perspective of the global economic system is one that recognizes that it is not in anyone’s creative benefit to create narratives that kill women just for the sake of."

“Like a pedogogy of the oppressed?”

"No, just like taking accountability for your own positionality and not needing it to be validated by an academic discourse that you can debate. This might be a cornerstone of the western intellectualism, but it is a pretty aggressive way to learn new information, requiring a seemingly superior intellectual force to exert themselves as dominant instead of just learning. "

Tony raised an eyebrow…he has a point to make, “but aren’t you over-intellectualizing and whatever else you just said so then what?”

The men walked away and Tony was left standing in the middle of the street.

Tony was not amused. He reached for his phone and called his tour guide to collect him.
Then ran through the streets, kicking the wares of street vendors and farting over the food people hoped to sell.

Violence was his inalienable right. He was a predator after all. And the point needed to be made, in order to ensure more like him could reign freely.

You see, Tony fancied himself a God. While he considered himself an atheist, a childhood of christian indoctrination had created an awkward sense of morality, that (unknowingly to himself), but in his favour, established principals that justified his entitlement to be a vanguard for oppression.

For example, the tale of Lucifer.
Somehow, the christian god, represented as the monarch of a kingdom of heaven was to be considered perfect. For no other reason than jealousy, a favored subject would try to overthrow him (because duh, this god is a he) and would be defeated, forced into a really undesired kingdom, hell.

Now, Tony knew this philosophy wasn’t true (he was an atheist and understood things) but it formed a core pillar of his personal mythology. Much like those guilty of the witch hunts in Europe, colonists globally, the KKK and white men who settle outside of their home country, so that they can feel special.

The morale of this tale was to be adhered to.

As Tony tired of his tantrum and sat on the street, waiting for his lift, he watched as a crazed woman with a knife in her hand approached. Gender based violence might be common in the streets of Khayelitsha, but Tony was a rare find in these parts and the witchdoctor was looking for a prick.