Men view patriarchy like it’s a huge old beautiful theater. The Grand Ole Opry, with a little big gold tribute to dicks mixed in. For generations, it meant everything to them just to get featured and sure, they know intellectually that women were not treated so well there. That we were paraded around onstage in our underwear for men to leer and rate us and throw beer at when we displeased them. Sure. Doesn’t sound so good now. But those were different times! They didn’t know better.

Now men do know better. Some men. Sometimes. Sort of.

So the question becomes, what to do about the theater?

Men don’t want to tear it down. They put so much effort in, over the years. To them, it is beautiful and strange. A monument to very twisted ideas, but a monument nonetheless. They don’t want it destroyed. They want it maintained.

I agree.

There is a name for such things. A museum. Or, alternatively, a mausoleum.

I say we keep the theater of patriarchy intact, but deadened, separate. A spot for men to bring their sons. To teach them what not to do.

That’s what I want to see. Patriarchy relegated to history.

A museum for children to tour. To learn. To learn to do better from now on.

Writes all the things. Photographs the light. Smiles at odd moments. Reads in the shower. Sings to the trees. Hopes a lot.

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