Miles had taken his first women's studies class on a dare. He hadn't expected it to rock his world. All of the criticism of patriarchy made sense to him. But unlike most of his classmates, he was a beneficiary of it. The knowledge made him sick, like he personally was responsible for all the damage men had done to women throughout history. The fact that his female teachers and classmates were polite to him somehow made it worse. He had seriously considered suicide as the one way to no longer participate in the oppression of women, but ultimately he wanted to live. Maybe there was another solution.
Miles hesitated briefly before the entrance to the Temple of Divine Womanhood, then walked in. He laid the trophy he had received as an all-state offensive tackle in high school at the feet of the goddess, a crude but undeniably female figure resembling paleolithic goddess images. It seemed like an appropriate sacrifice.
And apparently it was, as the trophy disappeared along with over half of Miles's body mass. She was a petite girl now. But that wasn't the reason she felt light--it was enormous burden of guilt and remorse lifted from her narrow shoulders. Sure, she would now face patriarchy as one of its victims, not one of its beneficiaries. But she didn't feel like a victim, but like a fighter who had chosen the right side.
She was smiling as she left the Temple.