The naked truth about feminism…and feminists.
At least with nuns, they have their faith in God and whatever else happens in the nunnery, to give them purpose in their lives. There is an upfront acceptance of their separation from the normal life of mankind. The nun stops being a woman in the conventional sense, so she stops expecting to be treated as a woman. As a result, most nuns I have met are stern about their duties, but otherwise pleasant people. It is a role for them that has well defined rules that addresses the sexual, as well as the social dynamics of life.
Feminists are always in the center of a great mental conflict between what they wish were true about the world and the ongoing reality around them. The woman in the aisle, while surrounded by shield maidens of the first order, was a rage of internal conflict. Her eyes kept darting around the cabin, as she was clearly uncomfortable. The feminist sense of entitlement forced her to make demands on everyone, while her biological instinct was to look for a man to come her rescue. Instead, she was rescued by women from the past.
The irrationality of the feminist, the tantrum aspect to it, cannot be discussed in the mass media, but that is the weak point of it. Feminism is, in many ways, someone choosing to live in the backyard, rather than the house, because they are nursing a grudge against the person who made the house for them. Instead of being good at the thing they can be good at, like being a wife and mother, they choose to be terrible at something no one wants and no society has ever needed. Feminism is the wrath of the unloved and unwanted woman.
That really is the shame of it. I’ve trod this earth for a long time and I have yet to hear a man say, “The trouble is we have too many good women from which to choose.” No man thinks there is a glut of good mothers or women who make excellent wives. It is the complete opposite. Most men lament the dire shortage of women they would want to have as a wife or the mother of his children. This is something men of my generation have been discussing our entire adult lives. It’s why so many of us are unmarried or never married.
All of this reminds me of something I’ve noticed when dealing with feminist women. The best thing is to dominate them. It is not only the best approach in the moment, but it opens a door for them to escape the torment of modernity. In the company of feminists, I often begin talking about repealing the 19th Amendment. I’m polite, but firm. The results are always positive. The reason is, modern women, like our feminist hero, are living lives of bitter isolation, an isolation from who they are as women. They are looking to escape it.
Phew; you’re a braver man than I, Z. I prefer to take a different approach myself: I leave ’em the hell alone, every chance I get. They got nothing to say that I’m interested in hearing anyway, and I’m quite sure that sentiment goes both ways.