Long Live PP Man!

The constant expectation of who The Bride will be before she even is. The way patriarchal societies buy pink onesies and Barbie cribs and headbands with bows before a baby is even born. The stain of forever being "just" a woman. The way this mirrors Eric's flowers, the way he love-bombs her and lays ownership to her before she's even developed consciousness.

The way Eric insists that his bride doesn't need to develop basic language skills or even a rudimentary understanding of the world around her, because her education doesn't directly benefit him. The way he was created to usher in a new era of scientific discovery for mankind, while she was created only to please him. The Biblical story of Eve being carved from Adam's rib. The way organized religion trains women to believe that their only use lies in being obedient and subservient to the men around them.

The Bride being continuously punished for her sexual awakening, for any exercise of her own autonomy or free will. The way the only “love” she has ever known was brutally murdered because she refused to cater to the expectations of the men around her, because she denied the title that was thrust upon her at birth. The way that men have always done this to women— labeling us as "jezebels" or "harlots" or "whores" or "bitches" or "sluts" for refusing to fall into a role we never consented to performing.

And, of course, the fact that Eric continues to feel entitled to her body even after she tells him no in every conceivable way. "Why won't she let me touch her?!" The parallels between his behavior and that of so many incels who believe that women exist solely to serve their purposes. "She is to love me!" The way that, after losing her, he spends his time partying on yachts with models and playgirls, because that's all women are to him... just pretty objects. The way he bastardizes the word "love" because he's never taken the time to know or love her, not really.

The inherent trauma of her birth and nature— the way the horrorshow of her creation reflects the unspoken horror of every woman's creation. "She is but a cluster of fear and not knowing."

I repeated the experiment later, wearing the boots but otherwise my usual clothing and mimicking the expression I thought I’d had at that moment. People parted like I was Charlton Heston.

I now wear that style of boots whenever possible. I recently had a man do a double-take as I walked by and ask me, politely, where I had served because I “looked like a soldier.” I’m not current or former military. I was wearing a flowy purple peasant top and looked as un-soldierlike as possible.

Wheel like you’re gonna win the Indy 500 and don’t care how.

Your crutches are short swords; walk like you can see them buried in the bodies of anyone who crosses (in front of) you.