I hope nobody minds too much if I spend the entirety of this article talking about my penis.

It might seem self-indulgent of me, of course. I do have my reasons. For example, I have been listening and reading for a number of years, as just about every single other voice within our shared (and fabricated) cultural narrative that tells me, and tells you, and tells anyone within hearing, in the most authoritative and condemning terms, all about my personal, private sexual parts. Yours too, if outboard plumbing is what chance favoured you with.

For some, all P.I.V. – “Penis in Vagina” – is rape. But, of course, never mind the rape; aren’t we all inured to that chorus of hatred by now? Nobody seems to remark at the reduction of the most intimate act of physical affection to mere mechanics.

But our culture’s predominant narrative has more to say, not just on nuts bolts and screws, but on the sexual organs of just less than half the human race.

Man’s discovery that his genitalia could serve as a weapon to prehistoric times, along with the use of fire and the first crude stone axe. From prehistoric times to the present, I believe, rape has played a critical function.

It is nothing more or less than a conscious process of intimidation by which all men keep all women in a state of fear. —Susan Brownmiller

According to this, for a man, his genitals are not a physical connection to sexual identity, or spirituality as manifested in some religions. It is not even an integral part of himself as a physical being. No, in this narrative, a penis is an implement of pain and damage. It’s a weapon.

A more vicious and cruel imagining of human beings as other, and as enemy, it’s hard to fathom. But, it gets worse.

According to feminist orthodoxy, rape, rather than being a rarely-occurring violent crime, is a conscious process of intimidation by which all men keep all women in a state of fear. All men, against all women, in a process of conscious and purposeful intimidation.

But all of that is old news, isn’t it?

Consent. Enthusiastic, ongoing, affirmative consent, and without it, the usual implied agreement by which sex is actually engaged by real people in real world is now reclassified as a violent crime–but only men are the criminals obviously.

Let’s pause here and make one thing clear.

You: The feminists engaging in all this narrative-shaping and reality-bending declaration of the identities, the sexuality and the intentions of people who not only aren’t you, but of whom you clearly have no hint of understanding.

You do not have my consent.

You don’t have my consent to declare anything about my penis. You utterly lack my consent to hypothesize on my intentions, sexual or otherwise. You have not ever asked my permission to discuss, never-mind to declare by decree what my motive might be, what my sexuality says, or what the purpose of my penis is. It’s mine, its private, you are not invited to touch, to spy, to grope unskillfully at my most intimate sexual parts or my sexuality.

My sexuality is not yours to use, or abuse for your own amusement, or in construction of your narrative. You, the feminist, however, seem utterly unconcerned that your own admonitions about consent apparently do not apply to your exercise of fiat power.

But as forbearing and accommodating as I am, and so many other men evidently are, I have had entirely enough.

I am entirely sick and tired of the assault on my sexuality. If you are a feminist, I mean you are sexually assaulting me.

The feminist narrative on sex, on masculinity and on my penis is an assault. Your narrative, feminist, is sexual assault.

I am not playing word games. This is not a clever play of rhetoric. The present feminist narrative on sex, on male sexuality, and the feminist narrative on my penis is nothing short of ongoing sexual abuse.

As feminists, you have been for a very long time using my sex and sexuality. You have used my sex in cultivation of your frankly vile hate-narrative. But you do not have my consent.

So in all this assault on the sexuality, and all this abuse of the sexual identities of men and boys by feminists, should I now explain, as to a classroom of mentally challenged children – the affection, loyalty, devotion of men, the natural love of almost all men towards women? Should I here, enrich the tyrants still controlling our public narrative?

Wouldn’t such a gift, bestowed onto a movement of sexual abusers, also be abused and used as another tool of human harm?

Just as my sexuality, and men’s, is not on offer to ideologues in service of their cultivation of hate, neither is it free to use as entertainment, or indulgence, or as assumed service to be denied by a sexual gatekeeper.

And you, the feminists, you do not have my consent, or that of any of the other men or boys you continue to sexually assault and abuse.