Elise replayed the fateful day she’d confronted Marcus in her head often. She’d driven to his house and banged on the door. Standing before his shocked expression, she took a deep breath, then spat in his face. The wad of saliva landed right between his eyes. He’d winced, and wiped the spit with his hand. There wasn’t a shred of disgust or anger in his face—he knew he deserved it. He’d told her he was sorry and asked what he could do to make things right. With barely contained rage, she’d said, “What you can do is cut off your thing so you don’t hurt another woman ever again.” Elise had then screamed, “We’re done!” before turning around and bolting to her car.
Of course, he’d tried calling her over and over again, sending her emails and texts, but Elise simply blocked him on all platforms. She had meant what she’d said.
She still hadn’t spoken to Carey. It had been awkward during their final few days living in the same house with her slut of a sister. Carey hadn’t tried very hard to get Elise to forgive her. Carey ignored Elise as much as Elise had ignored her. It had been infuriating.
She was so upset and beside herself that she’d nearly deferred going to university for a year, not feeling ready to tackle the next phase of her life. But in the end, she’d decided to push through. She wouldn’t let Carey or Marcus ruin her life. Besides, getting out of there was just what she needed to do. The pain wasn’t going away and it was easier to be angry than to deal with the heartache.
There had been all kinds of campus events for freshmen since the term had started, but Elise had mostly stayed in her room. She hated everyone--women and men alike. But especially men.
Elise glanced around her to try to find a sympathizer or two in the lecture hall but found none. She couldn’t believe these women were lapping up Professor Hendrixson’s nonsense.
“Men are stronger than women,” he continued, his voice hitting a raspy note when he got to the word stronger. “A woman can work out in the gym five days a week for five years and still be no match in a wrestling competition with the average man who goes straight home after work, drinks beer, and watches TV,” the professor paused for a moment and glanced around the room. His eyes caught Elise’s scowl, and he shot her a generous smile before continuing. He walked across the stage to emphasize his next point, “For any woman to be alone in a room with a man shows a remarkable degree of trust, if not naiveté. Whilst the female body is built for the miracle of childbirth and the tremendous responsibilities involved in nurturing children, the male body is built for combat. The typical man could easily render almost any woman incapacitated.”
Elise snapped the pencil in half.
“Men have been shown to be more intelligent than women,” continued Dr. Hendrixson, “by an average of around fifteen I.Q. points—that’s a huge difference, and it explains why historically, men have dominated all avenues of human progress. Namely, the fields of philosophy, mathematics, and the sciences.” Dr. Hendrixson returned to the podium and took a sip of water before continuing, “Most crucially, men are better leaders than women, for leadership requires boldness, aggressiveness, an unwillingness to compromise. The drive to slog-it in the office ‘til midnight and foregoing family and social life to clock in over seventy hours a week.”
That’s enough, Elise’s mind screamed and some unstoppable force pulled her upright. The next thing she knew, her arm hurled the broken pencil pieces at the professor. “How dare you!” she screamed out loud. Usually quiet and reserved, Elise was shocking even herself with this reaction. Her anger had finally boiled over.
The security guard at the front of the room shot a look at Elise. The videographer recording the lecture swiveled to her, his jaw dropped. The entire lecture hall had turned to look at her in one collective movement. A few girls hushed her and made hand signals trying to get her to sit down.
“No, no,” Dr. Hendrixson said, waving his hands and speaking above the growing murmur. “Let her speak.”
“How dare you! How dare you!” Elise continued screaming, red-faced, pointing at him. She grabbed her shoe and chucked it at the professor. The heel clocked him directly in the middle of his forehead. It left a red imprint.
The professor faltered backward slightly and struggled for a moment to regain composure.
“How’s that for men being stronger than women, huh?” hollered Elise. She quickly reached down and picked up her other shoe and threw that at him, too.
This time, the professor calmly caught the shoe with his left hand and placed it on the podium.
Elise hadn’t realized how passionate she was about women’s rights until that very moment. Suddenly, everything she’d learned in debate club came boiling to the surface and blended furiously with her anger. The professor had pushed all of her buttons.
Elise began speaking, “The only reason men have been in the top positions of society is because of sick, twisted, misogynistic members of the Manarchy like you who deliberately lie to keep women down! But guess what? We aren’t buying your lies anymore. That’s why more and more women are becoming heads of companies and top lawyers and top scientists! We’re taking over the world, and you’re scared shitless that we’re coming for your job, aren’t you? Well, you should be! We’re just getting started! You haven’t seen what an angry woman is capable of yet.“
A few girls were still scowling at her, but many were looking toward Elise thoughtfully. Some even nodded their heads in agreement as she spoke.
“It’s a fascinating social experiment that so many women are—” Dr. Hendrixson tried to speak, but his voice was drowned out by a growing murmur among the students.
“She’s right!” shouted another female student. “You are a misogynist!”
“Who do you think you are?” shouted yet another.
“End the Manarchy!” more students began to shout, their voices quickly merging to form a chant that drowned out the professor.
Students, both male and female, began to follow Elise’s lead and take off their shoes, throwing them at the professor. He was forced to hold up his arms to protect his face. When that didn’t suffice, he ducked behind the podium, using it as a shield. Still, the onslaught of shoes came.
Chants of “End the Manarchy” evolved into the more rhythmic “Hey, Hey! Ho, Ho! Misogyny has got to go! Hey, Hey! Ho, Ho! Misogyny has got to go!”
The professor grabbed his things. The security guard, who had been waving his hands at the audience in an effort to get them to stop, entered the line of fire. He shielded the professor and escorted him out of the lecture hall.
As the professor was accosted down the hall to an exit, barefoot students clamored out of the lecture theatre and began shouting after him.
As word spread of what had happened, students began to pour out of other rooms and soon the halls were filled with angry mobs chanting and flinging all kinds of items at him, from books to keys to bananas and apples.
He fumbled with the keys to his curvy, blue BMW. Finally, he managed to get the door open and climbed in. A shoe soared through the air and hit the door as he closed it. A mob of students ran after his car as he squealed out of the parking lot, still chanting “Hey, Hey! Ho, Ho! Misogyny has got to go!”
Chapter 4
Penetrate this!
“Guys go around without shirts on all the time, why can’t we?” lisped Bella through her pierced tongue as she adjusted the thick plastic glasses perched upon her round, friendly face.
“Breasts are only a big deal because they’ve been sexualized by the Manarchy,” added Steph, blonde pigtails poking out from under her baseball cap.
“Yeah,” added Bella. “Men have been pushing us down for so long. I mean, marriage is so dehumanizing. We’re not our deadbeat dads’ properties, and we’re not any so-called husband’s property. We’re not property! Why should we have to wear what they want us to? Why should we do anything they tell us to?”
“Any other views?” asked the moderator, an elegant fifty-something woman named Lyn with carefully plucked eyebr
ows, subtle eyeshadow, mascara that didn’t show a single sign of clumping, and shiny, rosy lips. Her meticulous makeup was matched by a string of pearls and a tapered royal-blue jacket worn over a teal chiffon blouse. Lyn was perched regally with impeccable posture in her executive chair. The girls were gathered in her office, with a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf that took up an entire wall, a gas fireplace, potted plants, and a glass desk. It felt homey, cozy, and modern.
“I hate it when guys act like they own you,” said Alexis, whose pretty features were heavily accented by dark eyeliner and black lipstick. Her ensemble included chunky silver jewelry over a T-shirt featuring the Satanic bull-god Baphomet encircled within an upside-down pentagram. “Sleep with one guy one time, and they think they have the right to restrict who else you can sleep with.”
“My boyfriend got so pissed when I sent a nude to this other guy.” Steph laughed, propping herself up on the sofa.
A few girls were sharing the comfy seat with her, while others sat on stools and chairs they’d taken from meeting rooms. Their talks had started as impromptu, it hadn’t taken long for them to become a weekly staple in each girl’s calendar.
“I mean, what’s the big deal about sending nudes?”
“Ew, what right does he have to get pissed off at you for sending someone nudes? He doesn’t own you!” exclaimed Bella. “You should just dump him. What a loser! That’s why I stick to girls. They’re so much less possessive.”
“I don’t know about you,” said Alexis, brushing a strand of black hair behind her ear, “but when guys ask for vids of me jilling off, I just ask them how much they’re going to pay me. I mean, I kinda get off on being watched anyway but why not make money out of it, right?”
“Slay, queen!” giggled Bella, awkwardly high fiving Alexis, who was sitting next to her.
Elise jotted down a few notes. She was preparing for an upcoming speech and was spending every waking moment soaking up the views of women across campus.
They were in a small office building not far from the university, belonging to a mysterious organization known as The Foundation. Elise had found out about the organization a few months before when Lyn and Bella had approached her a week after the incident with Dr. Hendrixson. It was then that they’d filled Elise in on the Vaginist Movement. The movement, the women had explained, was all about empowering women to take back the tools of misogyny and repurpose them for positive female-centric change. Basically, the opposite of what Dr. Hendrixson was trying to achieve with his chauvinistic books and online courses.
The Foundation, which seemed like some vast monolithic global organization, had taken an interest in the Vaginist Movement just a year before. An anonymous donor had set up a bank account and sent a note to Dr. Lyn Pollop.
Lyn was a tenured professor at the university specializing in Global Women’s Studies. She’d written several books about what she’d coined The Vaginist Movement, one of which had become a bestseller. The bank account had been set up in her name, and the note had said simply:
“Because, with the right resources, you have the power to change the world. Go forth and fight, Dr. Pollop.”
So, Lyn had rented an office space just off campus to set up a Vaginist office on behalf of The Foundation and had been leading the growing movement from there.
It hadn’t taken long for Lyn to hear about Elise. In the days and weeks after her spontaneous protest to drive Dr. Gordon B. Hendrixson off-campus, Elise had turned into something of a celebrity. The video of her shouting “How dare you!” and throwing a shoe right in the middle of Dr. Hendrixson’s forehead had gone viral. Now she couldn’t go anywhere on campus without people recognizing her, stopping to talk to her, and commending her on her acts of rebellion. Formerly introverted Elise was thrilled that her outburst had been received so positively by her fellow students. It emboldened her, giving her a spring in her step, and a growing confidence to discuss issues that mattered.
Lyn had told her she had a bright future in social activism. She’d explained that the growing Vaginist Movement could use someone like her. Lyn had invited Elise to join a group of her peers at several ideation sessions off-campus. Picking up on Lyn’s warm, approachable but no-nonsense vibe, Elise had agreed to attend.
Though at first, she’d been apprehensive about joining in the group discussions, it was between the walls of The Foundation’s offices where Elise had really found her voice. What had started in that lecture hall had only been the beginning. Elise realized she’d been suppressing her inner voice for so long, a voice that she hadn’t even realized existed. Now that she could hear it, she couldn’t shut it up. Nor did she want to. Instead, she repeated it. She shouted it to anyone who would listen and even those who wouldn’t.
Elise had been wholly unprepared for her newfound celebrity status, and she felt like an impostor at times. Barely two months ago, she was Miss Goody Two-Shoes from a conservative family in a traditional male-led relationship—albeit with her teacher—and now here she was in a room filled with feisty women talking about claiming their rights.
Dr. Gordon B. Hendrixson, the professor she and her followers had chased off campus, hadn’t exactly remained silent. The professor had gone straight home and called the dean to tell him about what had happened to him. The dean, having only heard Hendrixson’s side, then approached Elise and a few fellow students who had told him what really happened from their perspective. When the dean, upon learning precisely what kind of misogynistic drivel Hendrixson had been feeding his students, called the professor and told him that he was no longer welcome back on their campus. He’d added that he would be calling all of his connections at colleges across the country to warn them against having the professor give any kind of talk on their respective campuses.
When Elise and her friends discovered how well the Dean had handled their case, they’d crowned him a women’s rights superstar.
Hendrixson responded with a strongly worded video monologue. He’d followed it up with numerous talk show interviews wherein he expressed his disgust at how he’d been treated. His main point had been that if the same had happened to a woman, the school would have protected her. His failing, of course, was his inability to see that a woman would never, ever put herself in that situation. A woman would never be so stupid or arrogant.
Slowly, The Foundation had gone from anonymous to pulling the strings of the Vaginist Movement. Pulling, particularly, Lyn’s strings. Elise and her fellow Vaginist leaders started learning bits and pieces about the organization. Lyn was always tight-lipped about them, but once in awhile, she’d let things slip.
While she’d not been prepared for celeb status, Elise had been even less prepared for the role The Foundation had asked her to perform. For the first-ever, The Foundation was hosting a Vagina Day rally and Elise was to be the guest speaker.
Elise’s pubic area seemed shrink-wrapped into her crotch-torn, hot-pink shorts.
There was a hint of cameltoe, yet she didn’t show a shred of self-consciousness. Nor did she reveal even the slightest bit of shyness at the fact that her nipples could be seen poking through the fabric of her thin, almost transparent tank top.
Elise was not used to showing so much skin, but she’d learned in recent days that her body negativity was a direct result of the Manarchy’s oppression. Shocked at herself for having been brainwashed into covering herself up for so long, Elise was now trying her best to feel a sense of pride rather than shame at showing some skin.
A lump formed in her throat and her hands shook as she tugged the hem of her tank top down slightly to show off more cleavage. Elise took a deep breath as she looked at herself in the mirror backstage. She couldn’t believe how much she’d changed since the incident.
She smiled to herself, proud that she’d been able to turn such a vile display of male chauvinism into a movement for positive change. Elise had never thought of herself as much of a leader, but she could no longer deny that people were following her, copying her. It was quite the h
ead trip being a role model. The more people complimented and praised her, the more it was starting to sink in that she could very well be the beginning of the end of misogyny once and for all.
She looked out at the crowd from behind the curtains and gulped. Due to the outcry over Dr. Hendrixson’s comments, Lyn’s offices had permission to set up a stage on campus for the rally. Elise, Bella, Alexis, and Steph had spent the previous month planning the event. They’d gotten an incredible response from their campaign. They’d expected a big turnout, but they hadn’t been prepared for a turn out of this proportion. The square was filled to the brim with scantily clad women holding signs with slogans such as “Pussy Power,” “Females Fighting Back,” and “Penetrate THIS!”
Swallowing her nervousness when the speakers blared loud, upbeat music, Elise took a deep breath and ran out on stage, waving at the screaming crowd, just like Lyn had coached her. Lyn, who, aside from teaching, had been an activist all her life, had taken the time to give Elise some one-on-one training in the art public speaking to ready her for the event.
The music softened and one of the senior students—a sexual assault victim hand-chosen by Lyn for her ability to rile a crowd—introduced Elise as “The Vaginosphere’s hottest rising star.” Elise took a moment to take in the enthusiastic crowd of fellow students with their colorful homemade banners and signs. Some women had mimicked her choice of top sans bra, while others had painted bold slogans on their T-shirts. A few women wore only body paint. The crowd was afloat with gleeful fury toward the oppressors.
The microphone squealed, silencing the crowd, many of whom covered their ears and winced. The music had now stopped and silence hung thick in the air as the masses waited for Elise to speak. She steadied her hands, grabbed the mic, and the high-pitched noise pierced the air a final time before Elise began: “Two months ago, a man arrived on campus,” she screamed into the microphone. “He walked into a lecture room and told us that men were better than women!”
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