The Cow and The Ox – a story about the illusion of racial privilege

Once upon a time, there was a cow and an ox. The farmer decided that since the cow was weaker though her milk was sweeter, he would milk the cow. Since the ox was stronger, he decided to use the ox to pull his plow and cart.

When the ox was out working, and the cow was free to roam the fields, the cow laughed at the ox saying, “Ha ha. You see? The farmer doesn’t value you as much as he values me because you have to pull the plow and I get to roam the fields.”

When the cow went to sleep each night, the ox also roamed the fields, but the cow ate up so much of the grass that there was very little left for the ox. The ox would go to sleep a few hours hungry and tired.

While the cow was asleep, the farmer would get up early in the morning, and take milk from the cow. After milking, he would pet the cow and tell her she was a good girl. This made the cow feel good about herself. The fact that she produced milk which the farmer liked, and the ox had to struggle, made her feel good about herself. It made her feel good about herself while the farmer shoved his hand up her vagina to inseminate her. It made her feel good about herself when later, he shoved his hand up her ass to preg check her. (For you non farmers “preg check” means to check if a cow is pregnant by reaching up in her to see if there’s a calf in there.)

When a bit later the farmer would come and pull out her babies because, not working very hard, she didn’t have the muscles anymore to give birth unassisted, she also still felt good. She continued to feel good about herself when the farmer would have a look at each calf and decide whether it was going to be on his plate or standing next to her giving milk someday.

Note, the male cows were more often on the plate.

Eventually, next to her children, so many now that they couldn’t roam free anymore, but had to spend their lives in an enclosure where they just ate and served their purpose, she was so proud of herself, and taught her daughters to also be proud of themselves.

When the oxen would come by pulling the cart from which the farmer would scoop their food into troughs, they would turn up their noses and even pity the ox.

Then one day, they were horrified to see the farmer actually petting one of the oxen. They thought that the farmer only petted them. They were very angry, and vowed not to give milk anymore. Yet in the morning, all their udders were full, and when the farmer came by again, they submitted to the machines they were now being suctioned by.

…and though it was only for few moments every night, the oxen roamed the fields.

The end.

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Bros

I guess because so many people use the internet as an opportunity to safely lie about themselves, it’s rare to encounter a person who takes the opportunity to be safely honest about themselves.  So when I tell people that I have a small, but dedicated group of male friends, they read that as “beta orbiters” or imaginary friends or something.

The most difficult of these friends for most to understand is Shai, my last husband.  People don’t seem to understand why two people would want to continue to live together after the sex stopped many years ago.  It’s because even though the sex stopped, the love didn’t.  It’s like our romance was this beautiful, golden egg that we both treasured, but it was very fragile because well, life is what it is and stuff happens.  So one day, the egg shattered, and I was quite nearly suicidally depressed about that.

Inside the broken shell though, was a diamond far more valuable than the egg ever was, and that is our friendship.  It is what our relationship was at the beginning, and will be in the end.  So I lost a husband, but gained a brother who is closer to me than the ones my parents gave me.  Some people aren’t going to understand that.  Oh well.

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Excuse me?

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAShai to whorefinder: “Don’t threaten old whores with big dicks.”

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