They reminded me that correction isn’t cruelty, that assertiveness isn’t aggression, and that love — real love, the masculine kind I was trained not to recognize — doesn’t always sound like comfort.

From Systemic Misogyny: A Theorem Disproved by Holly MathNerd.  The subheading, what my feminist professors lied about. 

Having received an education when schools and universities were focused on the creation and transmission of knowledge, I find it hard to comprehend the university experience of kids today.  Holly MathNerd's essay is one peek into that world and one person's escape from it's cramped worldview.  

Because here’s what I finally understand, with the help of my guy friends: boundaries aren’t bitchiness. Assertiveness isn’t aggression. Asking for what you need — calmly, clearly, without apology — is neither a failure of femininity nor a moral defect. It’s a skill.

And for me, it’s one I’ve had to learn entirely from men.

The best men I know don’t just fight for the people they care about. They teach you how to fight for yourself. With clarity. With strength. With dignity.

And they remind you, when you forget, that none of that makes you a bitch.

It just makes you free.

I was taught to fear men long before college. Not by theory, but by trauma.

College didn’t plant that fear; it just gave me reasons. Justifications. A framework that made my oldest wounds feel not only valid, but virtuous. And humans are incredibly good at justifying our feelings — especially the ones that damage us.

[snip]

But over the last five years, it’s been men — real men, good men — who’ve helped me unlearn that. Who’ve challenged me, supported me, corrected me, and refused to lie to me. They didn’t coddle me. They didn’t play along. They told the truth. They expected effort. They modeled strength.

They reminded me that correction isn’t cruelty, that assertiveness isn’t aggression, and that love — real love, the masculine kind I was trained not to recognize — doesn’t always sound like comfort.

Sometimes it sounds like “try harder.”

Sometimes it sounds like “stand up.”

And sometimes it just sounds like “Maybe you can’t, but try.”

I’m better for having heard it.

And I’ll never stop being grateful that I learned to listen.

I was taught that the reason for every statistical difference, every imbalance, every struggle I, along with all other women, faced was men — their privilege, their dominance, their systems.

Turns out, the oppressors were just guys.

And the cage I thought they built?

Feminism handed me the blueprints — and I helped weld the bars.