It’s a sad day when a woman refuses to allow a man to open the door for her.
I enjoy being treated differently by men because I am different from them.
Holding the door open is an act of service, a nod of respect, and a show of honor. The woman who deems it offensive has insecurity issues: she’s insecure in her body, which happens to be female, so she recoils at a reminder of that fact, even a typically pleasant one. The man who is opening the door has no intentions of belittling her or bullying her; he considers it polite because it’s been an age-old gesture created to display just that: politeness. Why were men taught this? Because they were told that women should be recognized and honored for who they are.
A man opening the door for you is also saying, “Let me help you, not because you can’t yourself, but because I want the privilege of doing it for you.” Now God forbid a man helps a woman. I wonder how the feminist would act if she tried to help a man and he told her, “Don’t, I don’t need your help.” She’d cuss him out, toss a drink in his face or slam her hand across it.
A few decades ago, what our older—often wiser—generation deemed as polite, our younger—statistically more “mentally ill”—generation deems offensive and oppressive. “I am woman. Don’t dare open a door for me, that’s sexist and highly offensive. But you better cuss and talk dirty around me.”
It appears many women in my generation are blowing themselves up like balloons with this anti-man pride and racism, and it’s silly to say the least.
“She’s just like one of the guys.” Uh, no thanks. I’m not a man so I don’t want to be treated like one. (Click to Tweet)
Lost in the Pro-Choice Sea
Now let’s touch on abortion, lauded as the ultimate human right for a woman. “It’s my body! You men better not tell me what to do with it!”
Correction: it is not just your body; there’s a second body living within you that belongs to someone else.
Now how about that apartment you’re leasing or that house you got a loan from the bank for: Technically, that home isn’t yours, it’s the lessor’s or the bank’s. So if they decide you are an unwanted inconvenience, they should be able to enter “your” home with a metal clamp and tear off all of your limbs and then rip your head from your shoulders and throw your remains in the trash outside, or better yet, sell them and earn some profit. It should be their ultimate right and what if they began fighting passionately for it? Would you hope someone defends you, or would you agree and let them pursue the right to murder their tenants?
Ah women, we once prided ourselves in building up the very men who would work hard to make a living in order to support us and a family because we were worthy enough to sweat and labor for, and what we have to offer—children and a safe nurturing place to call home—were worth toiling for.
Now, we pride ourselves in lewdness and murdering the very children that we alone are special enough to create and sustain from within. Instead of building up that next generation, we want people to help pay for their annihilation.
That’s not what it inherently and naturally means to be a woman, for what thousands of years women innately knew about themselves and embraced. In fact, this new pride is completely opposing to what it means to be a woman.
I am a woman. I cannot change the fact that I was born into a body designed to create and sustain human life. I cannot deny the pain I felt when my body failed to produce that life and the fear that I would never be able to perform and enjoy that kind of miracle. I cannot help but help, to support, to encourage and teach those around me to fight for what’s right, both female and male. It’s engrained in my natural design and these roles I play are crucial. They are so infinitely important that no one would exist if my incredible female body didn’t do what it’s been doing for millenniums. It is because of this wonderful body that there is life on this earth.
So no, I will not deny who I am and fight to destroy my identity as a woman and destroy the next generation with it; to create less and less life. Ha, can you imagine if every woman decided to stop making children? Hello extinction.
Rather, I will enjoy when a man chooses to open the door for me because he sees me, he knows I’m different from him, and he honors my womanhood. I’ll smile at him and say, “Thank you.”
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