I have been doing work on my own history of misogyny and the abuse that many women suffer daily under a man’s unaddressed brokenness. Here I try to describe what is going through a man’s psyche as he unconsciously uses a woman to mend his own wounded heart.
Dear Objectified Woman,
I like you. I really do.
But I like you more for what you can do for me, than for who you are. You make me feel like a man like I am funny; the King of the world.
Thank you for masking my insecurities, my immaturities.
I know how to make you feel good too. To make you feel beautiful, cherished, the only one, I know what you want. But I unconsciously only want you, as long as I can use you.
I need you to fill my sexual and emotional deficits, and until I get those wounds healed, I will continue to keep you close in my back pocket.
I can not risk being alone with myself. Because I (much like you) hate myself. I feel death when I have to face the man I am, and the man I am not.
I will choose cowardice.
I will hide behind you and continue to project my insecurities and fears onto your back; for it is the only way I know how to survive.
I need you to love me in the places my mother did not, my heart.
But I am terrified of the love I desire, so much so that I will do violence to you if you even try to come close.
I want you to know my intentions are actually quite good, I don’t want to do you harm, or do I even know I am using you inappropriately.
I just feel my needs first; I am not concerned with yours.
You are a means to an internal end.
I both despise myself for that and yet know of no other way.
An honest misogynist