Being a feminist is easy, being a woman is hard.

There’s something we need to admit, even if it’s uncomfortable: feminism is attractive. Not because it’s noble or righteous, but because it appeals to something primal in us. It flatters the ego, soothes the wound, and justifies the vice. It promises freedom without responsibility, power without cost, and meaning without sacrifice. It doesn’t speak to the soul’s hunger for truth, it speaks to the flesh’s craving for control. That’s why it took off so quickly. That’s why it still holds millions of women captive. And that’s why rejecting it now feels less like a shift in ideas and more like a betrayal of an entire way of being.

Feminism was never about balance. It was about inversion. It told us that all the things we were taught to admire, gentleness, humility, obedience, self-giving love, were actually signs of oppression. It told us that we’d been tricked, that womanhood itself was a kind of captivity. That our nature was our enemy. And then, having emptied our identity of its substance, it offered us a new one, shiny, modern, and hollow.

We weren’t reasoned into feminism. We were seduced. And if no one ever showed us anything different, how could we possibly have known?

I. Feminism as the Sanctification of Vice

Feminism did not simply reject virtue; it reversed it. It told women that what once had to be resisted could now be embraced. Pride became empowerment. Lust became liberation. Envy became justice. Anger became righteous. And selfishness was the altar at which we all should worship. It allowed us to exalt our lowest instincts under the guise of growth. It gave us a framework that required no transformation, no struggle, no sanctification. We didn’t have to become better, we just had to become louder, give into our every impulse. Have no self control.

We’ve been told that feminism was about equality. But equality was the veneer. The shadow behind which the wicked truth was. Underneath it was something far older and far darker: a rebellion against limits, a rejection of order, and a deep resentment toward the natural hierarchy of life. Against God himself. It wasn’t about lifting women up.

And we took the bait, not because we were stupid or shallow, but because we are fallen. Because we are all the daughters of Eve.

II. The Collapse of Archetype and Form

There was once a sacred rhythm to womanhood. It wasn’t rigid or robotic, but it had shape. There was a progression, maiden, mother, matriarch. Each stage brought with it different demands, different glories, different sacrifices. And these stages weren’t just biological, they were also spiritual. They formed the interior world of a woman. They gave her direction, identity, and a sense of belonging to something bigger than herself. It gave us purpose.

But feminism told us that structure was imitating. That to be something specific was to be less than everything. That not to be allowed to be everything we wanted, was wrong. That not giving into our impulses was the real oppression. So we dismantled the archetypes. We mocked the mother, we sexualized the maiden, and we told the matriarch to go get Botox and stay relevant. We stripped womanhood of its meaning.

The result? We’re free-floating. Women are now expected to be all things at all times, to always look twenty, work like a man, mother like a saint, and age like a ghost. How exhausting.

III. The Weaponization of Empathy

One of the cruelest tricks feminism ever pulled was weaponizing our empathy against us. Women, by nature, are relational. We desire harmony, understanding, connection. And so when feminism wrapped itself in the language of justice and liberation, we leaned in. We wanted to care. We didn’t want to judge. We wanted to support our sisters. We didn’t want to be cruel.

So we nodded along. We made space. We silenced our doubts. We started saying things like “her truth” instead of the truth. We learned to avoid hard questions, and when we felt that little internal discomfort, we convinced ourselves it was just internalized misogyny. Feminism taught us to second-guess our convictions and defer to the crowd. To confuse compassion with compromise. And before we knew it, we were defending a worldview that was destroying us.

IV. Why It’s Easy to Be a Feminist

It’s easy to be a feminist. Let’s just say it plainly.

It is easy to believe you owe no one.

It is easy to say, “I do what I want.”

It is easy to discard responsibility in the name of empowerment.

It is easy to demand attention, affirmation, and praise without offering obedience, service, or reverence.

It is easy to live on impulse and call it liberation.

And it is easy because it’s nothing new. It is, in many ways, simply the rebranding of the oldest lie in the book: “You will not surely die. You will be like God.” Feminism did not create this hunger for autonomy, it simply gave it a socially modern acceptable language.

But what is hard, what is truly hard, is to resist it. To embrace womanhood not as a product to be customized, but as a calling to be honored. To choose obedience to God over affirmation from culture. To say yes to the sacred roles, even when they cost you everything. To root yourself in something. That is the narrow way. And few walk it.

V. When Rejection Feels Like Betrayal

Today, to reject feminism is not simply to adopt a different philosophy. It is to commit cultural heresy. It is to place yourself outside the bounds of what is considered decent, loving, or enlightened.

You can be anything you want, except traditional. You can wear what you want, sleep with who you want, abort your child, degrade your husband, scorn your family, and you will be applauded. But if you dare to love being a wife, if you dare to say your children come before your career, if you dare to submit to your husband in love, if you dare to believe that womanhood is not self-made but God-given, you will be ridiculed. You will be shunned out.

And still, we must choose it.

We must choose to remember what has been forgotten. That the path of womanhood is not an endless maze of reinvention. It is a sacred unfolding. A calling into maturity, into self-gift, into holiness. It has a shape. It has a purpose. And it is only in walking it that we will ever truly be free.