Yesterday evening I was about to start some work on the company-issued laptop, and when I opened up Internet Explorer, it was set to the default home page of msn.com.
As I never go to msn.com since its such a copious fountain of misandry, unless linked by someone, I started checking out the articles… this one caught my eye. When the Suicide Bomber is a womoan.
If there’s one thing we know about the media, especially women’s magazines like Marie Claire, they will claim that women are victims of anything and everything, up to the point of not only not holding them accountable for heinous crimes of murder, child rape and now terrorism, but in fact putting the blame on society, a man, patriarchy or a combination of the above. Jan Goodwin looks like a terrorist sympathizer with her article:
On the day before she set out to blow up the Sri Lankan prime minister, Menake went shopping for a sequined top to hide the vest full of explosives that would turn her into a human bomb. It was the cyanide necklace that gave her away.
The 27-year-old woman is not what we picture when we hear “suicide bomber.” With her long black hair neatly pulled back from her chocolate-colored skin, she is shy, soft-spoken — the kind of person you’d trust with your kids. But Menake is also a member of the Black Tigers, the suicide commando squad of Sri Lanka’s Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE), a terrorist group that has more female suicide bombers than any other organization in the world.
You know, I wonder if any other magazine has ever done such a sympathetic interview of any suicide bomber/terrorist until now. Maybe its because the LTTE aren’t threatening the US directly?
The sympathy starts with the photos, showing a tearful terrist dabbing at her eyes, presumably crying to evoke sympathy. The excuses start on Page 4…
Last August, when I learned that the Sri Lankan government had a failed female suicide bomber in its custody, I wanted to talk to her. I negotiated with the government for months — the Sri Lankans trying to determine if I was a security risk (was I an LTTE sympathizer?), our communication breaking down repeatedly as fighting in the north heated up. Finally, last December, I received the answer I’d been waiting for: an agreement to give Marie Claire an interview — the first they’d ever allowed.
Dressed in a simple maroon tunic and pants and green plastic flip-flops, Menake takes a seat opposite me. (For security reasons, the government asked that her last name not be used.) The blacked-out windows make the space uncomfortably warm. In her unventilated 7’ x 5’ cell in solitary confinement, Menake has no access to water or a toilet unless she can persuade hostile prison guards to unlock her cell and escort her to both. She sleeps on the bare, tiled floor without a mat or sheet.
She is clearly surprised to be sitting in an armchair — albeit one that is aged and leaking foam rubber — rather than the usual hard seat in front of the interrogator’s desk. When tea is served to me, she appears so unnerved she has to be coaxed into accepting a cup. The hospitality makes her suspicious. In the past, interrogators have threatened her with beatings, rape, and torture.
Menake is hesitant to talk about her life in the LTTE. “Maybe there are Tamil Tigers inside here,” she says nervously, through an interpreter. “I’m frightened if I talk to you, they will find out and kill me. My life is at stake. Maybe one day I will walk out of here, and then what will happen to me?”
“Do you know the legal penalty for trying to assassinate someone?” I ask, expecting a hardened reply. To my surprise, she begins to cry, burying her face in her lavender-colored dupatta, a shawl which conservative Sri Lankan women use to cover their upper torsos. “The punishment is jail for the rest of my life,” she murmurs. She also knows she may hang — capital punishment was reinstated in Sri Lanka two years ago after a government crackdown on suicide bombers.
Oh waah fucking waah. A terrorist may hang. Big fucking deal.
The look on Menake’s face turns to wild desperation. She wrings her dupatta in her hands. “I beg you, can’t you get me out of this country?” she pleads, almost hysterically. “I want to live. To live the life I might have had before, if I wasn’t going to kill myself.”
Of course, it’s the life she had before that brought her to this point. Home was an impoverished fishing village in northeast Sri Lanka. Her alcoholic father drank more than he fished, and he often hit his wife. Menake was 3 when her mother died from one of his frequent attacks. When Menake was 7, her father raped her repeatedly for four days during a drunken binge. Finally, her grandfather rescued her, and her father disappeared. She never saw him again.
Rape is something many female suicide bombers have in common. Considered spoiled goods and unmarriageable in their patriarchal cultures, they view becoming human bombs as a form of purification by fire. Dhanu, Prime Minister Gandhi’s assassin, was also allegedly raped by soldiers from the Indian Peacekeeping Force when it was posted in Sri Lanka for three years.
Give. Me. A. Fucking. Break. They talk as if a woman’s rape is the worst thing that could evvvver happen to anyone, anywhere. The rape card is way overplayed. I don’t give a fuck about this terrorist’s rape and neither should you. The men and the women in the LTTE lead a very harsh life, and I bet that if they were to get into power tomorrow, their women would get the status they think they deserve, thanks to male chivalry.
The rest of the story continues to whine and moan about poor widdle Menake and how life is not fair because she is a woman. Why is the media like this anyway? And why the hell do people not acknowledge it? According to feminists, all this sympathy for women is the lingering results of the patriarchy and conservative men who want to protect women more than men.