The Hilarity of Postmodernism: Vagina Knitting

The Right Stuff
December 1, 2013

Finally, women are truly free from the chains of the patriarchy or whatever.
Finally, women are truly free from the chains of the patriarchy or whatever.

Just when you think modern expressions of a coddled and stunted generation couldn’t get any more trivial and stupid, you find things like this.

For those of you who cannot or choose not to view it, Casey Jenkins, fish-faced “former craftivist,” is spending 28 days knitting a scarf from wool inserted into her vagina.  That she has a menstrual cycle is part of the performance: in the video there are closeups of the stains on the wool and lurid descriptions of her experience in the pleasant feminine monotone one would expect from such a person.  Jenkins talks of “demystifying the female body,” and it’s plain to see her latest project is a continuation of her activist work, intended to nudge humanity towards a more “open” society.

We get it, you’re deconstructing the social norms of a world you consider too confining by mixing the “acceptability” of a wool scarf with the “danger” of an uncovered vagina…  With a giant ball of wool jammed in it.  Because freedom of expression, or something.

What this artist/activist conveniently ignores is that she exists in a vulgar, pornographic society that accommodates her deviant behavior to begin with.  There is no purpose for this kind of expression, as there are no more social barriers left to challenge or knock down.

No one is shocked by a vagina these days, no matter what you stick inside it.  In fact, her actions are so mainstream that the story is covered by Gawker.  At best, this is the latest diversion, something one reads or mentions to fellow faux-intellectuals in between overpriced drinks at Starbucks.

Of course, if there is one thing moderns are good at, it’s avoiding reality.  Next thing we know, women will be walking upside down, holding protest signs by their vaginas.  The 99% will be proudly displayed in between some SWPL skank’s meat-flaps.  The revolution is here, and it smells like a dead opossum.

Critical theory and deconstructionism are prima facie ridiculous, but they slowly and surely chip away at the foundation of a culture.  What happens when there is nothing left to chip away?

At the end of the video is a link to a man who paints with his penis: Pricasso, they call him ironically-not so ironically.