The Sorrows of Being a Straight Feminist in the Age of Feminist Warfare
I'm not a revolutionary by nature. I'm actually very docile and malleable at heart -a disease which I have discovered to only be cured by constantly reminding yourself that you're fighting for your sisters and comrades- which leads me to believe that I would fit right in to the age of corsets and intense societal rules.
I assume I would still have some kind of dopamine deficiency which would lead me to give my all in finding and fighting for love -the greatest dopamine resource. My dear husband would certainly be my entire world. I would be his ever-loving mother and servant and would constantly be in intense melancholy, wondering why he doesn't give me the love I crave for. But I wouldn't rebel. Maybe a suicide attempt or two. Drawing trees and leaves to calm my senses. I would be too much of a lady to cheat, but not enough to overlook his cheating. I would pray with the other ladies, and I would only pray for his love. Only.
I believe there will come a time where men are raised in an equal society. Where they will be held accountable for their actions from a very young age and won't lead their lives chained to the possible ridicule they will face among their fellow men. Where they will view women as humans, not land to be conquered and discarded. Where they will date to seek true connection, not to enhance their status among their fellow power hungry bros.
But I had the misfortune of being born in a time where I have to date men who care more about the reputation of their fellow brothers, rather than the women and children who were raped and abused by said brothers. I am still a dopamine deficient love seeking heterosexual woman, who has to accept that she may never find true love and connection, simply because the number of straight women who can see how terribly unequal the world is, far exceeds that of men. And I might not be lucky enough to come across "one of the good ones". I should probably make my peace with it. But I can't.