I believe that feminists have sown the wind, in their rejection of the traditional family, esteem for motherhood and collaboration with men. In that sense, having deconstructed so much of the societies in which they live, is there any wonder that they've found themselves filled with furious anger?
Like our love, women’s anger — the simmering rage toward our families, our mates and assorted males that can turn even the calmest woman’s expression into The Death Look — is always there. Even when it’s the last thing on our minds.
Wow. I can honestly say that I have no such simmering, pervasive rage, even on the worst days--nor does anyone I know. Perhaps something's very very wrong in the way they've ordered their lives? My take is at Catholic Lane.