A man must at times be hard as nails: willing to face up to the truth about himself … refusing compromise when compromise is wrong.  But he must also be tender.  No weapon will breach the armor of a woman … like tenderness.

Elizabeth Elliot, in The Mark of a Man

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Perhaps the strange time of “war on men” in the West is at a close.  Seems like it must be as a matter of nature, of re-adjusting the balance necessary for happiness and self-defense and preservation.

My life began when men were men – you know the guys who won World War II and came home humbled, yet confident for war does that to you, hell – all combat does that to you.

Men, and I mean real men, have not been stymied in the decades in which they bore the brunt of the post-1968 feminist fits of resentment.  Oh, some have been bent to feminism’s false measure but others have survived and the seed remains planted.

Truth is the world, including America, cannot survive unless men are men and women are women – in the measure of nature as The Divine hath made, no matter what Marx (Karl, not Groucho) or Betty Friedan and her progeny might say to the contrary.

Without men, there is no boundary held, no bleeding done for others, nor lives laid down in battles while many eat and sleep in safety, far from the killing and deprivation, the brutality and corpses.

To understand men, know that they die for principle – that is their proving ground.

To understand men, know that while they kill and die, they also love and long for peace and the embrace of a woman whose divine superiority is giving life to life.

Good men and good women know who they are and know that the difference between them is closed tight only when they cherish one another.

Maybe we are drawing back to normative reality.  If so, it is none too soon … and we will be happier and more at ease for it.

Enough of the Age of Menless Men and Angry Women.

I’ll take brave men and beautiful, loving women every time.

Shalom.

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