I have written about AWALThttps://www.trp.red/p/deeplydisturbed/1782previously, but it recently occurred to me that my explanations could us some clarification. So to that end, here are some thoughts:

Overview

Many, if not all of us, can agree that AWALT is not technically true; it is merely an assumption. At least a few of us can point to at least a few good woman who resisted the worst aspects of womanhood. We also know that women can be one way with one man, and another way with another man. So NAWALT – at least not all the time, in all cases. It has some nuance to it- context and a bunch of other things matter.

Yet despite this, we must proceed as AWALT is true. There are a few very important reasons for this.

1. All women are capable of doing bad things just like all men. I imagine a standard normal distribution curve with outliers on either tail. On one end you have pious women who would never harm a fly and would rather die that betray her own honor. On the other end you have serial predators and baby killers; and, since most women are in the middle of that curve, AWALT.
2. Among Western women, disrespecting and fucking over men is seen as a cultural and moral good. Women who are pro-male are ostracized. Imagine being anti-feminist as a young female college student. You will be mocked, disrespected, and ostracized. Because even the most open minded, kind, sweet, innocent little girl can be corrupted in this way so easily by framing her goodness as a weakness, and a pathetic acquiescence to patriarchy, AWALT
3. If we ignore the AWALT principle - even briefly - the consequences to ourselves (as men) and our children can be catastrophic. (My own story has been backed up by a few other stories here of exactly what happens to a man who fails to accept this). So it behooves us to trust NO woman. Even when she proves herself over a very long period of time, she can become a different person as quickly as she can hit a light switch. Not even our mothers and sisters can be trusted; because, well, AWALT.

So to those men who have heard me discuss this in the past, I stand by my original premise: Always assume AWALT.

The Logic Behind AWALT

For me, the logic flows in a circular pattern something like this:

• NAWALT, but all women are capable of evil, so I must assume AWALT.
• NAWALT, but if I am wrong the consequences can be devastating, so I must assume AWALT.
• NAWALT, but it is so easy to corrupt the minds of young women, that I must assume AWALT.
• NAWALT, but because women tend to side with other women even before their own kin, I must assume AWALT.
• NAWALT, but because our culture (including law enforcement, the Courts, and the entire entertainment industry, to name several) have been so egregiously dangerous to the common man, I must assume AWALT (including their male "allies").
• NAWALT, but because good women must pay a steep price to resist feminist ideals (most notably social isolation from other women) one cannot expect the average woman to resist forever. So I must assume that in the long run, AWALT.
• NAWALT, but cultural forces are VERY powerful Even my foreign born, traditional, average looking, family oriented cuteypie will undergo a lifetime of pressures at almost every level. Any woman who spends enough time in American culture, will ultimately adapt to the culture. Regardless of how much they make fun of "gringas", "shiksas", "liberals" or even feminists, they will ultimately become infected with one or more bad attitudes about men. Sooner or later they will become at least partially an Americanized; and most American women have a few things in common, most notably feminist attitudes to one degree or another. So I must assume AWALT.
• NAWALT, but because (in addition to all of the above) women also undergo drastic hormonal and other changes in their mid 40’s (on average). Two things are undefeated: the Wall and biology. All women change fundamentally and permanently upon hitting reaching menopause. It is simply nature, so it is not her fault, and there is nothing she can do to stop this. And because those changes are rarely in a direction that improves relationship, I must accept that she will change for the worst. And I must assume that sooner or later she will become just like all the women around her - i.e. AWALT.

I think you get the idea, no matter how I have tried to “break” AWALT, I always arrive at the same conclusion.

Final Note:

To many women, male feminists, and assorted other allies, AWALT can sound like an insult or a put down. But on the contrary, it is a simple acknowledgement of the power of feminism. Because let’s face it men – feminism has effectively won the “gender war”. They lost a few battles, and there are still a few skirmishes, but that ideology owns us now.

And just like any other conquered people, each of us must find a way to work within this new system. After WWII, the Japanese were given an entirely new governmental structure, schools, post office and even labor laws. And over time they went back to being Japan (with a twist?). But for a while, they had to accept being ruled over by a conquering force under the direct control of a military General officer.

When the British took over India, they reacted as Ghandi told them to react: Just sit down and do nothing. Imagine a billion people taking beatings but refusing to stand and work. Passive resistance won in the long run.

Ask any of the 100 million dead Ukrainians and Russians if they could go back and do one thing over, I would bet that at least a few million would say “I should not have trusted my neighbor.” Because in times like these, you must assume your neighbors are Party spies seeking to gain favor, or avoid being subject to scrutiny. In the long run, centralize planning fell apart and the Oligarchs took control. And things are fairly calm now.

The same thing can be said of Weimar Germany, in which neighbors called the police on their very own friends and neighbors. Germany lost the war, as did the rest of the West, and to this day the common German citizen is not much more than a peasant, forced to pay for the sins of elites from long ago. Who knows if they will ever be truly free again.

And because so many people can so easily be coerced into harming the good people around them, and and because the consequences to getting this wrong can be so catastrophic, trust will be in short supply in such societies under such conditions. It is simply how humans can get under certain types of duress. Add sex/gender differences to the mix and it compounds things by an order of magnitude.

So for the foreseeable future it would behoove us all to assume in all cases at all times that AWALT, because your very life and well-being may depend on it.

I found this on the web somewhere, and I am pasting exactly as I found it. Good men are everywhere. They are now and they always have been. Never forget no matter how bleak the world may make it seem.

Harvey Patterson November 17 at 6:21 PM

It was Christmas Eve 1942. I was fifteen years old and feeling like the world had caved in on me because there just hadn't been enough money to buy me the rifle that I'd wanted for Christmas.

We did the chores early that night for some reason. I just figured Daddy wanted a little extra time so we could read in the Bible. After supper was over I took my boots off and stretched out in front of the fireplace and waited for Daddy to get down the old Bible.

I was still feeling sorry for myself and, to be honest, I wasn't in much of a mood to read Scriptures. But Daddy didn't get the Bible instead he bundled up again and went outside. I couldn't figure it out because we had already done all the chores. I didn't worry about it long though I was too busy wallowing in self-pity.

Soon he came back in. It was a cold clear night out and there was ice in his beard. "Come on, Matt," he said. "Bundle up good, it's cold out tonight." I was really upset then. Not only wasn't I getting the rifle for Christmas, now he was dragging me out in the cold, and for no earthly reason that I could see. We'd already done all the chores, and I couldn't think of anything else that needed doing, especially not on a night like this. But I knew he was not very patient at one dragging one's feet when he'd told them to do something, so I got up and put my boots back on and got my coat. Mommy gave me a mysterious smile as I opened the door to leave the house. Something was up, but I didn't know what..

Outside, I became even more dismayed. There in front of the house was the work team, already hitched to the big sled. Whatever it was we were going to do wasn't going to be a short, quick, little job. I could tell. We never hitched up this sled unless we were going to haul a big load. Daddy was already up on the seat, reins in hand. I reluctantly climbed up beside him. The cold was already biting at me. I wasn't happy. When I was on, Daddy pulled the sled around the house and stopped in front of the woodshed. He got off and I followed.

"I think we'll put on the high sideboards," he said. "Here, help me." The high sideboards! It had been a bigger job than I wanted to do with just the low sideboards on, but whatever it was we were going to do would be a lot bigger with the high side boards on.

Then Daddy went into the woodshed and came out with an armload of wood - the wood I'd spent all summer hauling down from the mountain, and then all Fall sawing into blocks and splitting. What was he doing? Finally I said something. I asked, "what are you doing?" You been by the Widow Jensen's lately?" he asked. Mrs.Jensen lived about two miles down the road. Her husband had died a year or so before and left her with three children, the oldest being eight. Sure, I'd been by, but so what?

Yeah," I said, "Why?"

"I rode by just today," he said. "Little Jakey was out digging around in the woodpile trying to find a few chips. They're out of wood, Matt." That was all he said and then he turned and went back into the woodshed for another armload of wood. I followed him. We loaded the sled so high that I began to wonder if the horses would be able to pull it. Finally, he called a halt to our loading then we went to the smoke house and he took down a big ham and a side of bacon. He handed them to me and told me to put them in the sled and wait. When he returned he was carrying a sack of flour over his right shoulder and a smaller sack of something in his left hand.

"What's in the little sack?" I asked. Shoes, they're out of shoes. Little Jakey just had gunny sacks wrapped around his feet when he was out in the woodpile this morning. I got the children a little candy too. It just wouldn't be Christmas without a little candy."

We rode the two miles to Mrs.Jensen's pretty much in silence. I tried to think through what Daddy was doing. We didn't have much by worldly standards. Of course, we did have a big woodpile, though most of what was left now was still in the form of logs that I would have to saw into blocks and split before we could use it. We also had meat and flour, so we could spare that, but I knew we didn't have any money, so why was he buying them shoes and candy? Really, why was he doing any of this? Widow Jensen had closer neighbors than us; it shouldn't have been our concern.

We came in from the blind side of the Jensen house and unloaded the wood as quietly as possible then we took the meat and flour and shoes to the door. We knocked. The door opened a crack and a timid voice said, "Who is it?" "Lucas Miles, Ma'am, and my son, Matt, could we come in for a bit?"

Mrs.Jensen opened the door and let us in. She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The children were wrapped in another and were sitting in front of the fireplace by a very small fire that hardly gave off any heat at all. Mrs.Jensen fumbled with a match and finally lit the lamp.

"We brought you a few things, Ma'am," Daddy said and set down the sack of flour. I put the meat on the table. Then he handed her the sack that had the shoes in it. She opened it hesitantly and took the shoes out one pair at a time. There was a pair for her and one for each of the children - sturdy shoes, the best, shoes that would last. I watched her carefully. She bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling and then tears filled her eyes and started running down her cheeks. She looked up at my Daddy like she wanted to say something, but it wouldn't come out.

"We brought a load of wood too, Ma'am," he said. Then turned to me and said, "Matt, go bring in enough to last awhile. Let's get that fire up to size and heat this place up." I wasn't the same person when I went back out to bring in the wood. I had a big lump in my throat and as much as I hate to admit it, there were tears in my eyes too. In my mind I kept seeing those three kids huddled around the fireplace and their mother standing there with tears running down her cheeks with so much gratitude in her heart that she couldn't speak.

My heart swelled within me and a joy that I'd never known before filled my soul. I had given at Christmas many times before, but never when it had made so much difference. I could see we were literally saving the lives of these people.

I soon had the fire blazing and everyone's spirits soared. The kids started giggling when Daddy handed them each a piece of candy and Mrs.Jensen looked on with a smile that probably hadn't crossed her face for a long time. She finally turned to us. "God bless you," she said. "I know the Lord has sent you. The children and I have been praying that he would send one of his angels to spare us."

In spite of myself, the lump returned to my throat and the tears welled up in my eyes again. I'd never thought of my Daddy in those exact terms before, but after Widow Jensen mentioned it I could see that it was probably true. I was sure that a better man than Daddy had never walked the earth. I started remembering all the times he had gone out of his way for Mommy and me, and many others. The list seemed endless as I thought on it.

Daddy insisted that everyone try on the shoes before we left. I was amazed when they all fit and I wondered how he had known what sizes to get. Then I guessed that if he was on an errand for the Lord that the Lord would make sure he got the right sizes.

Tears were running down Widow Jensen's face again when we stood up to leave. My Daddy took each of the kids in his big arms and gave them a hug. They clung to him and didn't want us to go. I could see that they missed their Daddy and I was glad that I still had mine.

At the door he turned to Widow Jensen and said, "The Mrs. wanted me to invite you and the children over for Christmas dinner tomorrow. The turkey will be more than the three of us can eat, and a man can get cantankerous if he has to eat turkey for too many meals. We'll be by to get you about eleven. It'll be nice to have some little ones around again. Matt, here, hasn't been little for quite a spell." I was the youngest. My two brothers and two sisters had all married and had moved away.

Mrs.Jensen nodded and said, "Thank you, Brother Miles. I don't have to say, May the Lord bless you, I know for certain that He will."

Out on the sled I felt a warmth that came from deep within and I didn't even notice the cold. When we had gone a ways, Daddy turned to me and said, "Matt, I want you to know something. Your Mother and me have been tucking a little money away here and there all year so we could buy that rifle for you, but we didn't have quite enough.

Then yesterday a man who owed me a little money from years back came by to make things square. Your Mom and me were real excited, thinking that now we could get you that rifle, and I started into town this morning to do just that, but on the way I saw little Jakey out scratching in the woodpile with his feet wrapped in those gunny sacks and I knew what I had to do. Son, I spent the money for shoes and a little candy for those children. I hope you understand."

I understood, and my eyes became wet with tears again. I understood very well, and I was so glad Daddy had done it. Now the rifle seemed very low on my list of priorities. He had given me a lot more. He had given me the look on Mrs. Jensen's face and the radiant smiles of her three children. For the rest of my life, Whenever I saw any of the Jensens, or split a block of wood, I remembered, and remembering brought back that same joy I felt riding home beside of my Daddy that night. He had given me much more than a rifle that night, he had given me the best Christmas of my life.