Attack of the killer Vajayjays

Welcome to the blog! Today I have Nicole Chardenet talking about femme fatales.

Here’s Nicole!

The femme fatale. Why do men fear her so much? Yet like the vampire figure for women, men are mesmerized and inexorably drawn to the dangerous, possibly fatal woman. She’s been an irresistible attraction in literature and then the mass media for centuries, even millennia.

Cleopatra as portrayed by Theda Bara in the 19...

Cleopatra as portrayed by Theda Bara in the 1917 movie Cleopatra, in a costume of dubious historical accuracy (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Cleopatra. Delilah. Theda Bara. The ‘black widow’. Margaret’s murderous muff in Liquid Sky. Sharon Stone with her ice pick, mesmerizing an office full of cops.

Beautiful women, seductive and inviting, leading a man by his—-free will to his doom.

A femme fatale is a man’s most deep-seated nightmare – she represents his complete loss of control. He can’t control his thoughts around this intoxicating creature, and it drives him insane that she has this power over him. She might well even use it to destroy him.

But why? Why would she do that?

Because in a world set up by men, for men, to serve men, women have historically had only one power men can’t take away – and that is their irresistible desire for her portal of Venus . Men may fear it and fight it – hell, the undeniable power of the mighty cunnikin clearly drives men mad with fear in the Middle East – but in the end, the promised nirvana between her legs has complete control over him. Forcing it under a burqa doesn’t help; it makes it worse. The less he sees, the more he imagines.

English: Actress Theda Bara in a promotional photo

English: Actress Theda Bara in a promotional photo (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I began thinking more about women’s sexual power after I started writing Sumer Lovin’. I wanted a female villain, and Googling one night I found Lamashtu, an ancient Sumerian divinity about whom little was written, but legend stated that the space between her legs was like a scorpion.

Holy shit!

I made Lamashtu the ultimate femme fatale, seducing virgins to steal their male essence to stay young and beautiful and to keep from reverting to her true form, which, let’s just say wasn’t nearly as shaggable as the well-formed barely-clad woman that stalked the mean streets of Toronto, honing in on her perfect virgin. She also left her victims in a highly diminished state as well.

It got me to thinking just who the hell came up with the idea of a woman with a scorpion in the ol’ cha-cha. It had to be a man, some ancient Sumerian vadge-fearin’ misogynist. Mythology, I already knew, was rife with tales of women with killer vaginas – like the vagina dentata, the ‘vagina with teeth’ – the ultimate ‘man-eater’. Or the only recently-abandoned belief that a woman steals a man’s essence through sexual intercourse, a myth that made a star of Theda Bara back in the day. Such myths express the apparently universal male fear, as Camille Paglia pointed out, that a man enters a woman strong and ready but leaves diminished, or something. Because something about our mighty minge is scaring the living bejeebus out of the boys, even as they’re inexorably drawn to it, obsessed by it, and want to possess it totally.

Of course, the notion that our vaginas somehow diminish men seems completely bizarre to most women, who don’t understand what the big deal is. Okay, so you’re an overcooked noodle when you exit, just give it twenty minutes! A little longer if you’re older.

Perhaps male fear stems from the subconscious realization that powerful patriarchy created the femme fatale. Women needed to be manipulative and scheming to get what they wanted, a fact that has only begun to change in the last century because of feminism. Women used their bodies and faces to manipulate men or even to destroy them if it suited their interests – because what other choice did they have? Especially if it meant their own survival, or those of their children.

The femme fatale wouldn’t have this power, of course, if men could control their thoughts around us better. Which, apparently, many can’t, so the femme fatale will always be there, ready and waiting, lush and alluring, to snatch his penis or his self-control or his wallet or whatever.

Leave it to men to complicate a simple joyous reproductive act with a lot of scary and ridiculous gender politics.

Why can’t we all just get naked and make joyous whoopee?

Cover - BlueSumer Lovin’ (Deux Voiliers Publishing), a crazy tale of the search for love and lust in Toronto after an earthquake opens up portals from the Underworld all over the city.

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Sumer Lovin’ (Deux Voiliers Publishing), a crazy tale of the search for love and lust in Toronto after an earthquake opens up portals from the Underworld all over the city.

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Cindy here again!

Thanks for being here, Nicole. Loved the post. I do like a good femme fatale in a movie or book.

Until next time…



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