The nebulous and hardly ever footnoted they say the firearm is the great equalizer amongst the sexes. Which is true, but only insofar as a moment of time. A wink in existence. Seconds, actually, and what a wonderful equalizer, albeit brief, it is. Nothing says, “No, I don’t want to be raped tonight,” like multiple 124 grain 9mm jacketed hollow-points traveling 1030 feet per second.
A woman, measured from simpler times and simpler places, always had the power of life, but rarely ever death. No, death, in these simpler times, was the purview of men. Men are stronger, yes, but men held the other key, the most important key, the key unlike any other.
Knowledge is power, and the Twenty-First Century Woman is a creature of knowledge. At her fingertips is a vast and endless stream of information, most of it biased, but all of it readily accessible. The cynical woman would say that to make sense of it all, one should close off the avenues of distraction.
The optimistic woman, surprisingly, comes to a vastly different conclusion. More, she says. I want more. Always more.
That is true power. The powerful woman is not simply the woman who stops her rapist by filling his thoracic triangle with expanding bullets.
No, the powerful woman fights against the cynical forces that tell her that’s not possible, trying to push her back in time and victimizing her by proxy. It’s not the tool. It was never the tools. It’s about the power.
The heart of a warrior never lies. It is a thing of purity, a deadly beauty more real than a thousand, thousand truths. The warrior, in her singular moment of honesty, is both everything and nothing. She is everything because she has broken down an entire conflict to a singular twinkling of violence.
She is nothing because she simply becomes an agent of choice. There is no right. There is no wrong. There is only choice, and her heart chooses for her. In the space between rational thought and instinct, between the familiar and the new, between skill and tenacity, lies the event horizon of truth.
This warrior hears her heart. The beating is more than life-blood; it is the affirmation of the gestalt of life. She listens to her heart not because she has to, but because it is all she can do. All that she is.
At this moment, this warrior is the most deadly. At this moment, nothing can match her.
At this moment, she is a goddess. All the other moments are nothing. She knows this to be true, because the heart of a warrior, a true warrior, never lies.
Universal Waffle Rule of Dating: feed a woman waffles and you are pretty much half-way into her pants.
The singular goal for self-defense is to articulate to the felon that he has made a catastrophic error in the victim selection process, and then simply show him what you mean.
Plan accordingly. Sometimes you’ll need to show before you tell, but that’s his problem.