* Once upon a time, there was a young woman named Jane Henrietta. She was a very angry young child, never listening to any kind of authority figure who crossed her path. One morning, she woke up and said “Fuck this shit, I’m going to go smash some windows.” On her way to the window store, she ran into 15 girls on bicycles. A girl gang. Jane Henrietta had no idea what to do. At first Jane Henrietta felt scared and she felt sort of full with hatred but then she also felt full of love and wanted to be in the girl gang. She realized that the hatred she had for the young women was due only to herself not being in the gang. So she thought she might be welcomed into the gang if she went to the window store and was sufficiently provocative and radical in her destruction of the windows.
“Hey you,” said one of the girls, the biggest one of all. “You have to be a feminist if you want to run with us.” Jane Henrietta didn’t know what a “feminist” was. She had only seen them on TV, huge bear-chested women, burning men alive on stakes. The idea sort of appealed to Jane Henrietta, and she agreed.
And so Jane Henrietta proceeded to the window store. When Jane Henrietta arrived at the window store where she originally planned to destroy windows, she realized that it might make more sense in the intermission to be a practically effective feminist, getting a job at the window store instead of breaking things. So she went to the counter, and she requested an application. She then left the store and on her way home she ran into the gang of young women on bikes. One of the girls who saw her exiting the window store with a job application shouted epithets at her, something to do with politics or something like “capitalism;” Jane was scared and confused.
Little did the girls in the gang know, Jane Henrietta only picked up the job application to murder the store manager, a large burly man who had no values, no morals, and certainly no politics. Jane Henrietta got the job at the window store. And she began to concoct a plan, a very simple one indeed: at the end of her next shift, she would sprinkle a fine poison into the store manager’s coffee, which he had at the end of every day. This poison was so rare, it only existed in the depths of West Virginia. Jane Henrietta, having grown up there, knew exactly where to get it. In fact…she had a lifetime supply.
Jane had heard whispers around the store that a new technology for window production was about to be adopted by management. The rumors were that all of the employees could lose their jobs due to the superior production power of the window technology, but Jane Henrietta wasn’t afraid. She was not afraid of the window technology not because she thought she could do a better job or she could make windows faster or because she felt productively or economically superior to the window technology, but because she didn’t give a shit about the job and she didn’t really care if you did a good job or not, she didn’t really care how many windows she produced.
The new technology prove to be perfect for her plan. Sheer perfection. It produced windows in such a way that if a person were to fall into the machine…they would never be seen again. On her first training shift, her burly, sweaty boss was showing her around the new equipment. “This is how you do it, sweetie,” he said. “You just stick this here and stick that there and then you got a window.” Jane Henrietta despised him. She despised the way he called her sweetie, with sweat glistening on his upper lip. At the end of the shift, she turned and said, “Mr. Manager? Can you come over here?” He came over, his back to the open machinery and she knew this was her chance. She pushed him into the machinery, and as his body was flying backwards Jane Henrietta screamed “Anti-capitalism!!!!!!” As his body was slowly sucked away by the dominant hegemonic machineries of globalization and Western patriarchy, Jane Henrietta knew she did her job. The next day, she asked for a raise.
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Murphy, Justin. 2012. "Windowpain," http://jmrphy.net/blog/2012/08/20/29858546699/ (March 12, 2018).