We Have a Violence Problem

And “Good Men” Alone Won’t Solve It

Feb 25, 2026

I could also have titled this Femininity vs. Masculinity — An Ongoing Opposition (If Not to Say Battle).

In this essay, I want to explore what moves me when reading very refined, precisely analytical, wide-thinking Substacks - mostly written by women - addressing not just the symptoms but the causes of cruelty, abhorrence, sexual abuse, and the indescribable violence we witness in our world and systems.

Even when some name a root cause - “patriarchy” - I often sense that the discussion itself still reinforces the very division it critiques: femininity versus masculinity.

Women ask men to step into their shoes.
They want more equality, less entitlement over women, feminism, even matriarchy.

Meanwhile, some men either defend what they were taught masculinity means - often in distorted and unhealthy ways - or feel confused. Some argue that if they reported sexual abuse, they would not be believed as readily as women (and yes, they are often not taken seriously enough either). So then those men ask women to step into their shoes.

All of that is valid. Completely.

But what is largely left out is the deeper issue: that the feminine and the masculine are seen as separate, as forces that must fight each other. That we are defined - and divided - at birth. That having a vagina means being compassionate, nurturing, soft, creative, sensitive. That having a penis means being aggressive, rough, straightforward, powerful, tough.

But is that so? Is that true?

What if the “shoes” are inherently the same - aside from biological differences? What if, in terms of being human, in terms of wholeness and the life force that flows through us, the source is one, expressing in different forms?

The reason I intentionally placed the word “empath” in quotation marks is not because I am or am not one. And not because I am or am not a feminist. It is because the word deserves closer examination. Too violence or rage deserve a closer one. Men and women are seen differently in this and probably based on how they were raised they became. But naturally this force is in all of us. It only depends on what to do with it. What we see is that most man are more natural with it or even show it in a distorted form, while women are taught to be good girls, detaching from that force and submitting it to be the males realm. Women- more than men- on the other hand are taught to be empathic. That is what we can see in the world.

Below is an excerpt from a recent post by Jeff Foster that speaks to the empath part:

“Be careful before you call someone an ‘empath.’
I fear that many so-called ‘empaths’ are actually afraid to step into their healthy anger and challenge harmful behaviour.
Empaths ‘feel everything,’ sure. They can be hyper-aware of other people’s pain. Yet in constantly tending to that pain, the danger is that they silence their own anger, erase their own boundaries, and ultimately abandon their own souls.
Sometimes what looks like empathy is simply a ‘fawning’ trauma response in disguise. A need to keep the peace. A need to be seen as kind at any cost.
They do not want to be confrontational or enter healthy conflict. That would feel dangerous. ‘Unempathic.’ Not on brand.
So harmful behaviour gets ‘understood’ away because they see the wounded child inside who just needs more love.
They would not want to make someone uncomfortable by holding them accountable.
And so the harm continues. No consequence. No accountability. No challenge.
Don’t get me wrong. Empathy with fire (healed empathy) is strength. Power. A world-changing force.
But unhealed empathy, empathy without fire, especially when driven by fear of conflict or setting boundaries, can be trauma in disguise.
That is why the word ‘empath’ deserves a lot of caution.”

A thought-provoking and- to my feeling- brilliant essay in regards to feminism you find here in Tamara’s substack.

For myself, I have empathic qualities - and I have boundaries. Boundaries are energy mobilised and catalysed into healthy rage. And if necessary, the expression - if words are not sufficient - can be physical.

I have soft qualities as I have grounded ones, as I have strong or fiery ones.

There is energy moving through me that can take various forms. It can be receptive; it can be active. It can nurture; it can protect. I can be compassionate and hold someone accountable at the same time.

I do not have to choose between feminine and masculine.

The source is one.

The question is whether we are in embodied contact with that source. Whether we can contain and catalyse energy into what is needed in the moment. Whether we can hold two opposites - even multilayered emotions and qualities - simultaneously.

What I am narrowing down to here is based on my own lifelong exploration, beginning in childhood.

I do not have a solution for patriarchal systems that have developed over thousands of years. That surely isn’t a quick fix. But I do believe that realising that so-called “feminine” and “masculine” qualities exist in every being - and fostering wholeness from an early age, in a playful way, independent of gender, politics, dogma or belief - could be part of a larger solution.

Please be aware: this is not a “be a good girl or boy” narrative. I know my own violence. I have owned it. And in rare situations, I have allowed it to express itself when absolutely necessary.

What follows is a short insight into my childhood and early adulthood - moments and activities that shaped who I am today: flawed, tender, fierce, aware, in touch. A human in full spectrum. And sometimes with blindspots.

I was not raped. I was not sexually abused. I did encounter inappropriate behavior, molestation attempts, boundary violations - but to a very low extent. I believe I was lucky. And I also believe the following experiences played a role in that.

This is not a recipe. It is not a call to violence. It is an exploration of what may help embody equality - to respect and befriend both masculine and feminine qualities within oneself and others. To discern. To step back or step in depending on the situation. To not get stuck in rigid beliefs or slogans. That goes for women and men.

Though my family had its struggles - and only much later did we begin to explore the deeper systemic dynamics - I was fortunate.

My mother, who cared for us while my father worked long hours to provide financial stability, allowed me to explore freely. There was no strict division between “girls’ stuff” and “boys’ stuff.”

I painted, ran, rolled in the mud, had puppets (mostly horses and their owners), played chef de cuisine. At seven, I began spending time in horse stables - which, in retrospect, was profoundly educational for body and mind.

I faced all climates and seasons. Dirt, dust, manure, cats, worms, insects. And I had to learn to handle animals ten times my weight.

Horses are powerful and sensitive. To handle them safely and respectfully, I had to cultivate qualities in myself that mirrored theirs: softness with clarity. Strength without forceful aggression. Attention. Awareness of limitations - mine and theirs. Balance between playfulness and seriousness, openness and groundedness, relaxation and tension.

Feminine and masculine, if you wish to call it that.
Though neither they cared if I was a girl or a boy, nor did I care if I encountered a female or (castrated) male horse. It was simply horse-human.

This education or learning happened unconsciously and was not very intellectual to mildly say so. Trial and error. (Example: never walk barefoot near a horse, even the gentlest one.)

Meanwhile, in school, I played soccer and did rubber hopping in breaks. I loved handicrafts, painting, singing (though was not sure about that completely)- and arm wrestling. I was one of two girls who competed with the boys. For me, it was about a fifty-fifty chance of winning. The second girl won every single time over the boys.

The other girls didn’t even try. Not because they couldn’t - but perhaps because it felt- or was taught to be- “unfeminine.”

At fourteen, I joined a group outside of school. It wasn’t all fine, drugs were present (not for me - I was a bit hypochondriacal and afraid of vomiting, and they all did). Nevertheless, one boy, 3 years older than me, fascinated me. Small, flexible like a ballerina, and able to kick like Bruce Lee. He trained in karate and invited me to join.

I went to his club, but chose kickboxing instead.

I was one of very few girls in the club. Most training partners and trainers were men. Playfully and disciplined, I encountered what might be called aggression - anger, rage. I discovered it as strength. As energy I could direct and control.

There was teasing. But also pride. Every precise kick placed on a male partner was celebrated. By the males. I got encouraged to know my strength. My power. Not to be feminine or masculine.
And as a sidenote- the hardest, most precise kick in that time I got was from one of the few girls. No mercy.

Later I switched to Muay Thai. Full contact. Harder training. Mostly men.

By then, I must have carried myself differently. I did not move like “girl victim” and moved in public without being harassed.

But there was one incident.

In my early twenties, in a club, a man repeatedly touched my ass. I warned him several times. Calmly. Clearly. Then more sharply. After the 5th time, standing in front of me, the bar between us, I looked straight into his eyes and said, very calmly, very distinctly:
“You need to stop touching my ass.”

He smiled. Arrogant. Amused.
“And if not - what you gonna do, girly?”

My body answered before my mind finished the verbal reply.

My elbow rose, clean and precise, cutting through the air over the bar and landing straight on his nose. Full force. No hesitation. Bone meeting bone.

There was a crack. Then blood.

He stumbled back, one hand flying to his face, eyes wide now - not arrogant anymore. He hurried to the bathroom, palm pressed to his bleeding nose, while my male training buddies and friends of both genders burst out laughing. They had seen the whole thing, observing if there was a need to interfere.

Another time, during consensual sex, a man slapped my face without agreement. I froze - not in paralysis, but in gathering force. My hand shot to his throat. Grabbed. Tight. Very tight. His eyes widened. Then rolled slightly. Tears formed. His breath shortened. Still pressing firmly into his throat, I told him quietly that if he ever did that again, I would kill or castrate him.

He believed me. It never happened again. We stopped seeing each other soon after, but met again much later for a coffee and conversation and where he was much more humble.

Bad girl? No.

A girl whose body was not regimented by beliefs such as “boys are boys” and “girls are girls.”

man in white hoodie walking on street during night time — Photo by Roman Datsiuk on Unsplash

To resume:

We have a violence problem not only because - statistically, probably realistically too - attacks, abuse, and violence toward women and children are more often committed by men. Men who do not own their fire, who are not able to discern and direct it in healthy ways, who are not strong in the deeper sense of the word.

We also have a violence problem because a majority of women and girls were not encouraged to explore their fiery, strong, rough-playing side. Many do not feel their own power in their bodies. Many are too “good” to be “bad” when it is necessary.

So the ratio becomes logical.

Of course, one could argue that the good men - those connected to the full range of their qualities - should clean up the mess of their disconnected colleagues.

But then, in the name of equality, that would also mean that the “good” (or “bad”) women - those in touch with their full spectrum - must clean up the mess of women, of mothers, who raised their daughters as helpless princesses without power beyond the kitchen.

And like that - blaming each other, shifting responsibility to only one gender- it goes on and on.

So perhaps women can learn from other women and from men who clearly own all their energies - who are humble, alive, tender, grounded, yet able to stand firm.
I learned to understand fire as strength - fire that only becomes destructive or self-destructive when one is disconnected from it or uses it as a tool for domination - from men. And I am grateful for that. I too did and do learn from women.
And boys can learn from fierce, grounded, playful women that the so-called “feminine” qualities within them are not weaknesses but gifts - alive, intelligent, powerful in an integrated sense.

The energies living in us complement each other.
They are not opponents.

See yourself as a whole being.

A life force that can give birth (yes, here we have biological differences), endure pain, run - and also push back when necessary.

We behave as if we are only intellectual beings.
Yet we are animals. And other species often function more coherently within their social structures than we do.
Still, we tend to see ourselves primarily through an intellectual lens.
And from there, we divide.

Only rational or only emotional.
Only hard or only soft.
Only receptive or only active.
Only feminine or only masculine.

But we hold all of it.

Each of us.

I wish the generation growing up now - who will have to deal with the consequences we leave behind - to be invited into wholeness. To explore all qualities. To develop internal security through external support. Independent of gender.

To end:

Yes, what was done to children and young people in various power networks is utterly wrong. Period.
To discuss it, clear-minded and with respect to the capacity of ones nervous system, is necessary. That although the content of the Epstein Files (and maybe other such big scale horrors) being known to investigators and authorities for years that finally there will be actual persecution and legal conviction.

But I do not see violence and cruelty as “male” traits. I see human distortion. Disconnection. Fragmentation.

I do not believe violence will end through an ongoing war of masculinity versus femininity.

Perhaps the deeper root is the opposition itself.

Instead of dividing further - maybe each of us needs to own our life force and its expressions in healthy ways and go with one simple word:

Humanity.

As I believe that none of us has the stone of the wise, any other perspectives to get a bigger or more refined picture is very appreciated here.

Karin Sziva

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