In a world where women are out here dodging actual bullets, both metaphorical and literal, from rapists, abusers, and lawmakers hell-bent on turning uteruses into state property, it’s truly inspiring to see the Men’s Rights Activists (MRAs) rising up like the valiant keyboard warriors they are. While women’s rights activists waste their time on frivolous nonsense like ending sexual violence, protecting kids from abuse, fighting for abortion rights, and stopping the systematic stripping away of basic human dignity, the real heroes are the dudes in fedoras ranting about how their girlfriend dared to suggest splitting the check at McDonald’s, because nothing says “oppression” quite like paying for your own French fries.
Let’s paint the picture, shall we? On one side, you’ve got women marching for their lives, demanding justice for rape victims, survivors of domestic violence, and little girls who shouldn’t have to grow up in a world where “no” is just a suggestion. On the other? A chorus of fragile egos wailing about how their wife doesn’t want to quit her job to cook for his mother all day, or gasp! how she might want an abortion because, you know, bodily autonomy is apparently a myth perpetuated by Big Feminism. “My girlfriend cheated on me!” they sob into their Reddit threads, as if that’s on par with, say, being honour-killed for refusing an arranged marriage. The contrast is stark, my friends: women’s issues are life-and-death, while men’s “rights” seem to boil down to “Why won’t she pay for my Uber home after I ghosted her?”
And don’t get me started on the hate double standard. When a woman says, “I hate men,” what she really means is, “I don’t want to sleep with you, have your kids, or deal with your unsolicited dick pics.” It’s basically a polite “no, thanks” wrapped in exhaustion. But when a man says, “I hate women”? Oh, honey, that’s when the fun begins — murder sprees, rape epidemics, and legislative crusades to ban everything from Plan B to pants that aren’t ankle-length. Misandry? That’s just some spicy memes on Instagram that bruise a few egos. Misogyny? That’s the societal backbone holding up half the world’s prisons, courtrooms, and “family values” bills. One’s a Twitter tantrum; the other’s a global pandemic of violence. But sure, tell me again how that catty comment about “all men” is the real threat to civilization.
Ah, the virginity paradox, classic MRA logic at its finest. If a woman dares to have sex before marriage, she’s a “whore”, a “slut”, a walking cautionary tale who deserves whatever STD or side-eye comes her way. But a man who racks up notches on his bedpost? He’s an alpha, a legend, a superhero cape away from being crowned King of the Bros. Wait a minute, though, if men are out here demanding premarital purity from women but still want to get their rocks off, who’s left in the equation? Are they… having sex with each other? Or is this just another episode of “Schrödinger’s Virgin”, where women are supposed to be untouched angels until the wedding night but somehow magically experienced enough to blow his mind? The math ain’t mathing, fellas. Sus, indeed.
Men love a good victim narrative, don’t they? It’s like they’ve got a PhD in self-pity. A woman gets caught cheating on her husband? Burn her at the stake! She’s the villain of the century, a homewrecker who deserves public shaming and a lifetime of cultural shame. But a man who rapes and murders a woman? “Well, he had a tough childhood,” or “She was asking for it,” or my personal favourite, “Boys will be boys.” The outrage meter spikes to 11 for a lady’s infidelity but barely twitches when dudes are out here sleeping with 12-year-olds and getting slaps on the wrist. Remember that guy caught on camera sexually harassing a woman? If he offs himself out of “shame”, suddenly he’s the tragic hero, and she’s the monster who “drove him to it”. And don’t even get them started on “false rape cases are ruining men’s lives.” My dear brother in Christ, even real rape cases aren’t ruining men’s lives; they are just inconveniencing the ones committing them. Blame the victim, protect the perpetrator, it’s the MRA playbook, chapter one.
Society’s got this twisted fetish for the “perfect victim”, especially when she’s a woman. If she stands up to her abuser, rapist, or cheating husband, speaking out, fighting back, and refusing to curl up in a ball of misery, she’s suddenly not credible. “Why isn’t she more broken?” they ask, as if justice requires a side of tears and helplessness. But if she’s too vocal? Oh, then the violence was “justified” because she dared not be pathetic enough. Meanwhile, a woman’s outfit gets more scrutiny than a guy’s criminal intent: “What was she wearing?” wins instead of “Why did he do it?” every time. Men want to control women’s bodies like they’re playing Sims — dictating abortions, dress codes, and bedroom rules, but when it comes to child support? “Gold digger!” they scream, as if the “gold” in question isn’t the bare minimum for the kid they helped create. Newsflash: If there’s no gold to dig, maybe stop pretending you’re a mine owner.
And let’s not forget the ugly guy syndrome. Give a below-average dude a chance because you’re all about that “personality”, and suddenly he thinks he’s Zeus reincarnated. But plot twist: no personality, no face, just a cheat code for betrayal and excuses. These are the same guys who victim-blame survivors while whining about their own “loneliness epidemic”, as if therapy and basic hygiene aren’t free apps away.
Add to that the sheer audacity of MRAs ignoring how men dominate every power structure – CEOs, politicians, judges – yet cry “reverse sexism” when a woman gets a promotion. Or how “men’s mental health” is trotted out only to derail conversations about feminism, never to actually fund suicide prevention for dudes. The hypocrisy is chef’s kiss levels of delicious.
In conclusion, dear MRAs, keep fighting the good fight against those tyrannical dinner bills and independent women. The world clearly owes you more than the women bleeding out from your “rights”. Satire aside, or is it? Maybe log off and touch some grass. Or better yet, join the actual fight for equality. But who am I kidding? That would require self-reflection, and we all know that’s harder than splitting a bill.
For more unapologetic truths, savage satire, and zero tolerance for bullshit, visit my profile on Her Campus at MUJ.