We're about to enter the four-year freeze I thought I have successfully escaped when I left Russia. I was mistaken. It seems the ugly head of the white male fantasy has reared itself once more, in all its blond balding glory, to remind us all that we're not infallible to this little evolutional leftover from the cave times: fear. We're terrified of change, and so we have conveniently slipped into the comfort of the fantasy that no longer exists. I have witnessed it (and wrote about it in Irkadura and in TUBE) in Russia when those most oppressed by the Soviet regime where the ones who took to the streets under the flapping red Soviet flags demanding Stalin come back (the beloved omnipotent father figure) and fix all their woes. Who were those people marching the streets? Retired women who bore the brunt of socialism on their bones, disillusioned war veterans who have lost their life possessions after Perestroika, and some young people who haven't had the chance to form their own opinions and believed what their parents believed before them: that there is a bright communist future out there, and one chosen man will bring to them if only they bend their knees and their heads hard enough to his mighty power.