I’ve noticed an interesting pattern: certain people—sometimes women, sometimes men—are in a habitual protection of the masculine. And certain others—also sometimes women and sometimes men—are in a habitual protection of the feminine. Both sides often claim that honoring their preferred polarity is how we end the gender war.
This speaks to the traumas, realizations, and biases that have shaped their conclusions—conclusions that lead them to believe they must protect one side over the other. But the truth is, there are not two sides. The idea that there are different “teams” is an illusion—no different than rooting for your hometown team and trash-talking the visitors, simply because of biases that keep our unconscious programming intact.
All of these perspectives are rooted in deep triggers. And communicating from a trigger is, 100% of the time, designed to reinforce an old belief system—usually one we’re not even aware of. So when approached, these arguments are rarely useful, because most people are motivated not by truth, but by the instinct to protect themselves from shame and inadequacy. This is why people often defend their perspective to the death. And why, in most cases, confrontation isn’t helpful.
What I want to articulate more clearly are the two core positions. And to be clear: both sides are correct. But the energy these arguments come from is often distorted—and that’s the real issue.
One side says: our society is missing masculine men. We need more reverence for the masculine, and those who fear masculinity are perpetuating a toxic cycle of trauma. This may be true—but when it’s said from a fawning posture, as an unconscious attempt to gain love or approval, then the words may be technically accurate, but the energy behind them causes crucial truths to be left out.
On the other side, it’s said that women have been used, abused, gaslit—and must now be revered, worshiped, and devoted to as the Goddess. This too is true and appropriate in many ways.
But if this claim is also rooted in woundedness—if it’s not arising from genuine devotion, but from a hidden attempt to receive love or feel safe—then it’s still self-sabotage. It perpetuates a false harmony and distorts the conversation just as much.
This dynamic plays out like a back-and-forth debate, as if there’s an ultimate winner—some side that will eventually prove itself right. But it’s actually the addiction to being right that keeps us trapped. This need to be right is a socialized impulse, one that distracts us from the real work: getting beyond the binary of right and wrong altogether.
Until we learn to pause and investigate the unconscious motives driving our arguments—until we stop letting those motives dictate our obsessive squawking about who the real parasite is and who the real victim is—we’ll remain stuck. Because that line of thinking will always be a dead end.
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