Circulus-Irrumator Syndrome

Charlie Starts Fires
8 min readNov 7, 2020

The first time I noticed the disparity in women’s healthcare and scientific research in comparison to my male counterparts was last year, 2019, when I received an ADHD diagnosis, after a lifetime of suffering and searching for relief. To be sure, the suffering and searching continues, as ever, but this was finally a step in the right direction. The reaction I had to this designation mirrored that of my friends and family whom I have since tried to explain it to. “I have seen the boys/men who were labeled ADHD. I’m not like that.” My therapist elucidated on the subject for me. ADHD was, until recent years, thought to affect males almost exclusively. Has anyone ever bothered to study any type of female health as differentiating from males, not relegated to our capacity for human incubation?! That question is rhetorical. I already know the answer, but if anyone wants to humansplain it to me… Women give me unsolicited information at a rate equal to or greater than men, so let’s not highroad on this one, sisters. Men try to teach me things I learned when I was 7, and women try to tell me how to raise my damn kids. There is no highroad if we all rise above. I love men. I have had the pleasure of bringing a truly amazing man into this dark, cruel world. He is a beautiful soul, in spite of my failures, or maybe, because of them. Pain is the greatest teacher. I am still sexually attracted to men, an instinct that always seems to beat logic. I would try to be sure and keep a knife in my back poc-….. Hmmmmmmmm…where would I put a small blade if I was naked? A philosophical debate for the ages, I’m sure. I just want to be treated with the level of respect any intelligent male gets in his community. Any community. In that, we are all sisters, all across the globe. My Facebook “victims of personality disorders/domestic violence” support groups have shown me this truth, many thousands of times over. Patriarchy transcends race, ethnicity, nationality, and, needless to say, but necessary, all the same, monotheistic religion. Where was I? Oh yeah… I read the same bullshit propaganda from the old ADHD handbooks about male to female Autism throughout medical communities in America, as I, now, in 2020, find myself raging against individual cogs in the machine to get my daughter diagnosed and treated for ASD. This leads me down the rabbit hole. #thefailuresofMANkind

According to a majority of American literature and the overpaid, overappreciated, all-to-human American doctors trained on such information, ASD affects males to females at a 4:1 ratio (eyeroll emoji). Psychologists would, in the past, and, without question, do, in the present, actually-seriously-fucking-factually, look for children lining up toy trains or Hotwheels, pointing to obsessions with comic books and/or video games as signs to look for in Autism diagnosis. I might have lined cars up, if anyone ever gave me a muther-fuckin’ Hotwheel instead of a Barbie with my happy meal. I give myself to reading and writing in a way that could, depending on the story/day, be construed as slightly delusional. OMG! VIDEO GAMES?! R U FUCKING KIDDING ME?!!! I was born the year that Super Mario Bros was released in the US, OK. I watched my cousins bounce on turtle shells for an eternity, desperately longing for the developed hand-eye coordination required to play, myself, an obsession I knew before I knew it. I might have liked comics, too, if I had been encouraged to read them. Instead, I was punished and abused for my limitations by my teachers, doctors, and parents, alike, while my male counterparts with “learning disabilities” were supported and downright, muther-fucking coddled. Some of those boys manipulated and abused me, personally. I was gifted and incapable, while they were disabled and supported. I far-surpassed my peers in every class I ever took, always fastest, and always under the radar. I would be embarrassed to finish first. I, typically, waited until someone else would turn in whatever assignment/test, so no one would notice my speed. I could make an error in my haste, but it was inconsequential. I set the curve, effortlessly, and flunked out, nonetheless. My bad grades led me to punishment at school, at home, and, eventually, within the legal system. Depression grew, exponentially, as I began attaching myriad forms of self-harm to my resume. I tried, exhaustively, to give adults what they wanted. Comprehension was not enough. Academic capacity was not enough. Nothing has ever been, or will ever be, enough. Despair grew to rebellion, grew to despair, grew to rebellion, grew to despair, and eventually, compliance settled in, after my youth had been wasted for me. I was/am/will continue to be discouraged from my intelligence while coaxed, coerced, and assaulted into quiet submission, from my first words until my last. All of humanity that I have ever had the pleasure to interact with, save a paltry few I hold in higher regard, male or female, from the lowliest peasant, to the most enlightened scholar, all the way to the top of this human food chain, and everyone in between, patronizes me when I am vulnerable and vilifies me when I am challenging of said condescending behavior, or anyone’s general world views. How can one possibly learn anything, when one already knows everything? I am master in the art of shutting-the-fuck-up, a skill honed before any other. C’est la vie, circles around circles around circles around circles around circles, each step in the rotation, reopening wounds that are never allowed to heal. Scars run deeper and deeper, despite an inexhaustible search for a clearer path. A girl could get dizzy without a POTS diagnosis. I think compliance has finally grown to rebellion, at 35, the circle of womanhood.

UK research into women’s health is the only reason I know anything about the complexities of my own problems, so, while I could insult England for a similar, slightly-less-misguided body of research, I will try to stay in British fashion and keep it above the belt, like a gentlewoman. It could be presumed, if anyone ever called me a lady, I would have to burn them alive and defile the ashes in ways that I can only fathom due to English, deliciously-macabre innovation. I am probably not a gentlewoman, either, in hindsight. As an author, the Oxford dictionary holds vastly more appeal to me than Merriam-Webster’s. This may correlate with my penchant for describing horrendous torture within my works and the British having an awe-inspiring number of synonyms for anguish. I’m not saying they invented the art, but the English, irrefutably, brought enthusiasm to the table, in the realm of inflicting pain and describing it, at length. I have this theory that the Anglo-Saxons forewent rolling their R’s in English to repress any positive stimulation in our language, but that is another rabbit hole, for another day. Today, I am illuminating the ways my own country has directly harmed me through a patriarchal, not-at-all-shockingly incompetent, profit-based approach towards medical care and scientific research. Capitalism only ruins everything it touches. Has anyone else even noticed the now-years-rotting severed heads of YouTube and Google on spikes in front of AdSense headquarters, in warning to all creative free thinkers who would not sell out?! #belikenetflix

American scientific research has, in the majority, focused on gobbling up funding and inventing new, flowery, Latin-derivative terminology to describe “women’s pain we never bothered to care about”, so that they may clap themselves on the back and secure more funding, in a never-ending cycle of fuckery, the circle of patriarchy. I imagine the Lion King scene with an infant monopoly guy in place of Simba, complete with penguin suit and monocle, being held over cliff’s edge and smeared with pigment while everyone bows to him. His likeness is painted on a wall with the same fruit paste at different life stages, by a shaman baboon, in what, I’m sure, is beautiful metaphorical imagery for capitalism and patriarchy… Whether women are diagnosed with Fibromyalgia, Endometriosis, or Ehler’s-Danlos Syndrome, tomayto, tomahto, tomooto, it’s lots of linguistic gymnastics for “We have no clue what the fuck we are talking about. We have never looked at a woman’s body subjectively, and, most certainly, not even for a second, we would abso-fucking-lutely never, ever, waste money and/or efforts towards collective female best interests”. The only women’s health issue that has been thoroughly studied, for better and for much worse, is too heavily covered of a topic for me to waste my wit on, here.

Male researchers tend to put their family names on these “Emperor’s New Clothes” style accomplishments, always frantic to seal a legacy of superciliosity for years to come. This type of behavior can be observed throughout the modern age, traced back through the age of enlightenment, to infinity and beyond, for all of MANkind’s history. Rookie female scientists can be take aback by the magnitude and grandeur of display seen in authorative male figures spanning all fields. Those who have long-since been deferring to the high-school-level comprehension of biology and physics associated with such, have come to refer to this exhibition as circulus-irrumator, or testis arrogans. This is a popular topic among women’s “locker room talk”, the self-fellating, self-congratulating, self-aggrandizing, ever-infallible male ego and the obvious fact that the scientific community, thusfar, has been driven by raging boners and boners for rage. You guys, I’m seriously, a male’s physical need to ejaculate is not stressed nearly enough, anywhere but pop culture. They are motivated towards women’s bodies in a way we could never hope to match. How’s that for a differential, FFS?! Monotheistic religions, unquestionably, have imbedded within their doctrine, stipulations for female enslavement, and some of us are still dreaming about our muther-fucking wedding day, pretty pretty princess. I know you because I was/am you, depending on the day/caliber of the gentleman caller. Honor thy husband and father. Is that how it goes? I know they talk a lot about fathers and sons and one special woman who was so pure that God railed her, or something like that… Every other woman is a whore, or married. They were picking who we married (vomit emoji)!!! Google images was 1000000% created because of Jennifer Lopez’s sexy dress. Google it. I think we can easily see what motivates men towards scientific study. I don’t need to do a whole bit about erectile dysfunction, internet porn, and sex robots, also, weapons of war… do I? OMG, has anyone ever illuminated the sheer volume of exploitative sexual content that caters to men at the Consumer Electronics Show?! Lora DiCarlo was banned from CES for her female sex-positive product not being a robot(?) or some fuckery like that, in 20muther-fucking19. She is allowed back this year, but I say it’s too little, too late. We need to move forward… something about the definition of insanity. The entirety of scientific development (and everything) in our patriarchal world history is lacking female input/perspective. This hurts my son as much as my daughter. Considering the male genome and human life itself originates with the female, maybe… “save the cheerleader, save the world”? Does that land with anyone? I stand by it.

#ImagineTheSexToysWeCouldCreateTogether #circulusirrumator #FuckBoiIsland

Opening and closing the gates of heaven,
Can you play the role of woman?
Understanding and being open to all things,
Are you able to do nothing?
Giving birth and nourishing,
Bearing, yet not possessing,
Working, yet not taking credit,
Leading, yet not dominating,
This is the Primal Virtue.

The Complete Tao Te Ching
Translated by Gia-Fu Feng (馮家福 Feng Jia-fu, 1919–1985) and Jane English (1942–)
Vintage Books, 1989



Charlie Starts Fires

Master of Time and Space, Prisoner of Mind and Body #IStartFiresWithMyWitticisms #AndMyFlamethrower #YouCantCancelMeIQuit #UnpopularOpinionsFromUnpopularPPL