Written by Sharon Czehzlelberger
“I hate women, they only want to fuck Chads and GigaChads.”
Local self-proclaimed Incel Jimmy Dinkus, 19, sat across from me at local Applebee’s affiliate Chili’s, nursing a glass of whole milk and a plate of chicken tenders I begrudgingly purchased for him to get the interview.
I noticed Dinkus while I was on campus doing my usual rounds of tearing down flyers for organizations without strict transparent POC representation. Pock-skin, pale face, he was noticeably reading a hardcover copy of Mein Kampf in the Union Building. The Modern Warfare 2 t-shirt and the jean shorts were all I needed to see to know that I had my story.
“Yeah Hitler was a pretty cool guy. Sometimes I read that book out loud on the bus to bother the normies.” Dinkus has this smug, caucasian air about him. He told me he was a KHV: in IncelSpeak™, this means Kissless Handholdless Virgin, a type of person I didn’t believe existed until this conversation.
“I was diagnosed with ADHD when I was 5, Autism when I was 8, Aspergers when I was 11, and I had to get surgery after I burned my penis in a microwaved banana. They put me in Special Ed classes and made me wear a nametag with my illnesses so they could identify me.” Dinkus’s case was a sad one, a story that hardly seemed like his fault, one almost worth sympathy. But what he said next was what helped me realize what a scourge this movement really was.
“I think if your partner count is over 2 before you turn 18 you’re probably really unhappy.” The staff of the restaurant had to hold me back from stuffing my choker down his throat, and I demanded a few mimosas to calm down, lest they receive a lawsuit for restraining a handicapped femme without my consent.
I asked him what could possibly compel him into believing such things, where he was radicalized, and how often he feels remorseful about how his mere existence is putting people like me in danger.
“Uh… I don’t.” He looked me dead in the eye with all of the crust, all of the hate burning in his big brown Aryan eyes. “You ever been around a woman lately? I mean, it’s too late for creatures like you, but i’m talking about live, breathing women. Attempting to interact with them is all it takes to know what’s wrong.”
I left the interview at this moment, disgusted and unable to continue. How did we let it get this bad? Why can’t online white supremacist virgins just die in a hole where they belong, instead of pestering us already disenfranchised folks who just want to be able to wear Gimp suits wherever we want.
About the Author —
Sharon Czelhbunger: Poly, Les, She/They, Afro-American
An investigative journalist with a penchant for the patriarchy, Czehzlelbergess graduated with an Associate’s Degree of Creative Writing from the American Southern Poverty Law Center. Amateur comedienne podcaster by day, undercover writer by night, her favorite tea is Oolong and her favorite malt is Mickey’s. A bad bitch with fat hair, subscribe to her Patreon and follow her Premium Snapchat if you want to support the winning side of the race war.
“I think most people’s view is that selfies are just vanity and stupid, but I think they’re really great” – Hannah Gadsby, inspirational comedienne.