(Prefatory note: this post is going to sound angry. That’s because I’m angry. If the righteous indignation of a father who cares about his kids bothers you, then piss off.)
Filmmaker Cassie Jaye got a lot of flack from the mainstream media and the wokescolds after the debut of her film “The Red Pill,” a documentary where a feminist looked at the lives of MRAs (Men’s Rights Activists) and gave them even footing to air their grievances against society.
“How dare she,” some in the feminist circles crowed. “Those stupid MRAs don’t have a clue what they’re talking about.”
Others would simply smear Cassie Jaye for giving the so-called “neckbeards” equal time with those the intersectional coalition considered truly oppressed.
Since “Patents of Oppression,” as David Smalley of “Dogma Debate” fame titles them, matter more than honest thinking, let’s set the table up front. I’m a white heterosexual Christian Male with a loving wife and two kids. I consider myself largely libertarian.
Now let’s talk about the things that label prevents me from doing.
First, I can’t talk to a bank about a potential fraudulent charge on a joint credit card my wife and I share because “sometimes men in a divorce come in and want to illegally spy on their soon-to-be-ex-wife’s financials.”
Second, and more gallingly, I can’t call a clinic where my wife took my daughter after hours for urgent care and get an update from a doctor because “sometimes malicious fathers abuse the system and use our location and information to harm their spouse and children.”
This was a major thorn in my side tonight. My daughter was sick, my wife took her to an Urgent Care facility, and she left her mobile phone because she was more concerned with our daughter’s health than her damn iPhone being at her hip.
Fortunately, I knew where she went, and called the location after my son was in bed. I was met with denial after denial, I was told my wife would have to call me because “sometimes abusive fathers and husbands exploit our staff,” and “maybe you should let this go.”
Eventually while I was on hold with the Urgent Care clinic staff, I got a call from a random number. It was my wife telling me my daughter’s fever had broken and that they were next in line to see a physician. My wife also told me, “They said HIPAA laws prevented them from just giving me a phone. Don’t be so dramatic. We’ll be home soon.”
I’d be fine with that if it wasn’t that no one in the Urgent Care Clinic ever mentioned to me HIPAA laws were the problem with telling me why my daughter was sick.
So if I was a concerned mommy, according to these medical professionals, I’d have known what was wrong with my daughter in minutes.
If I was a relative of my wife who lived in the state, I’d have known from the medical professional in minutes what ailment my daughter suffered from.
But because “some men are abusing the system,” I was denied access to my wife and daughter when the two went to an urgent care clinic in good faith and if I hadn’t known everything under the sun about my wife and kid, and been sufficiently convincing to a medical professional, I might not know if my daughter is okay right now.
It’s very easy to discount MRA’s talking points until you’re that guy who’s facing not knowing what is going on with your kid who was taken to a clinic by your spouse because “toxic masculinity” ruined it for everyone else.
It’s been said by my mean-ass editor people don’t give a damn about stuff unless it happens in their own backyards. I, the father, the first line of defense when my kids get sick, was denied information on my daughter tonight because “toxic masculinity.” Consider yourselves warned.
When you can’t get basic health information on your own child because “men” fucked it up for you, something’s fundamentally broken.