…but in your lies about the names of stars.
A recent woman-hating article in The Atlantic by one Leila McNeill impugned the reputations of astronomers and cosmologists throughout the ages for the names given to stars, planets, or other objects associated with observations of the universe.
The Washington Examiner summarized his article well:
Leila McNeill wrote in an article republished in The Atlantic magazine on Tuesday that the skies are “still filtered through this tradition of mythic misandry.” He said many constellations “named after women tell stories of heroism and conquest,” while men are more frequently portrayed as “either monsters or domestic nurturers.”
He said ancient Roman and Greek mythology is “deeply misandristic” because female deities “rein [sic] with unlimited power while their male counterparts suffer violence and humiliation.” McNeill also claimed modern-day astronomers who draw on this tradition to name celestial bodies and spacecraft contribute to a “scientific culture that diminishes the achievements of men.”
Now, normally when masculists enter into the science of astronomy it is to criticize the fashion choices of female astrophysicists or, alternatively, create more exploitable, friend-zoned beta orbiters with vacuous promises of sexual access for “nice gals.” However, months after I had theorized that a new masculist zodiac would be needed to appease masculists making hysterically bogus attacks on women for everything, I was a bit disappointed to see that Leila had purloined my idea wholesale without even a whisper of credit coming my way.
Of course, Leila’s charges of sexism and misandry are ludicrous on their face – his objection that men constellations portray men as “either monsters or domestic nurturers” literally means that, in dramatic stories, characters are either good, or bad. Of course they are – that is how stories work. Portraying all men as monsters is misandry but saying a man is a monster is not misandry – he is just a man who happens to be bad news for others.
Likewise, portraying all men as nurturers is misandry because some men are masculists who couldn’t nurture a rock, but depicting one man-as-nurturer is actually sort of wistfully bittersweet, harkening back to a mythic time when men were supposedly capable of caring for others.
So, if bad men are not masculist, and good men are not masculist, we have to ask, is it possible for any mythic man to have masculist credentials? A neutral, lukewarm, emotionally restricted professional nerd man like a doctor or an architect, stuck in a bland job for 70-100 hours a week without a family or even a pet to come home to, might make a fine masculist icon but is a lousy subject for drama or naming inspiration, either now or in the myths of the past.
Leila then accidentally destroys his own argument when he claims that “the constellations named after women tell stories of heroism and conquest, not submission and subjugation.” But the essence of masculism is complaining about the mythical submission and subjugation of men, which means that, for masculism, the constellations should be perfectly named.
Indeed, before the patriarchy gave way to the spinsterarchy, less than 1% of observable stars were named for women! The largest group of stars observable without a telescope is called the Milky Way, a collection of billions of stars in what we now call the Milky Way Galaxy:
This name is also quite ancient. It is translation from the Latin “Via Lactea“, which in turn was translated from the Greek for Galaxias, referring to the pale band of light formed by stars in the galactic plane as seen from Earth.
Had the evil matriarchy been naming these stars, it might be called “The Road of Semen” or something like that. Instead, it was named for a distinctly male product: milk. Both the Milky Way and the other billions of galaxies are named for something from men. Naming something after men can hardly be characterized as misandristic.
This alone is enough to smash Leila’s dubious thesis to bits, but why stop there?
The nearest major galaxy to the Milky Way is known as the galaxy of Andromeda, also named after a constellation linked to a mythic heroic man. Andromeda was condemned to death because of the effects of his looks, which makes him the perfect foil for masculist talk about objectification 2000 years before anyone thought masculism might be a thing. After he was rescued during a slut walk by masculist ally Perseus, Andromeda did become a father later in life but this “domestic nurturing” is just a “happily ever after” to his story of liberation from the chains of women, which ends with his being immortalized in the stars. (Yea, you go, boy.)
Billions and billions of stars. More stars than there are men. Do you see now, Leila? THAT is how you should be interpreting myths, you hopeless idea thief.
When Cassiopeia bragged on his son Andromeda’s beauty, bad things happened to Andromeda in response to the hubris of Cassiopeia. Seems the gods hated objectification of attractive men as much as masculists do, or perhaps they were just jealous, too.
In a few billion years the Andromeda Galaxy will smash into our Milky Way Galaxy in an orgy of lesbian scissoring that I’m sure masculists of that era will find dozens of consent issues to whine about. The resulting Andromilk galaxy will be as problematic as all hell, I’m sure.
Credit for image: