Perversion

The subjective idea of “perversion” tends to be casually thrown around, but rarely is it examined in a fair and unbiased context. Most people instinctively associate it with men, as if male sexuality is inherently aggressive, inappropriate, or something that needs to be managed. Many women are socialized—and sometimes biologically primed—to be cautious around men. This wariness can evolve into an overgeneralization: interpreting male attraction, assertiveness, or even awkwardness as threatening or “creepy.” While it’s undeniable that some men have committed acts of violence, it is statistically inaccurate and psychologically unhelpful to assume this as a default for all men.

This widespread assumption has been embedded so deeply into the culture that women are rarely—even when clearly exhibiting overt sexual behavior—seen through the same lens. It’s not uncommon to hear women talk about how men are “creeps” or “perverts” simply for expressing interest, while at the same time, media targeted at women is saturated with erotic themes, sexually charged storytelling, and detailed commentary about physical traits. The average man does not openly describe his sexual encounters in graphic detail among his peers, but for women, this kind of candid sharing is not only normal, it’s socially rewarded.

Female sexuality tends to be more embedded in personality and general demeanor, rather than being compartmentalized like male sexuality. A woman can smile, giggle, touch a man’s chest, or soften her voice and lean in during conversation, and it’s seen as playful or flirtatious—until a man mirrors these cues and suddenly he’s inappropriate.

The Misconception of Male Danger and the Projection of Internal Chaos

It’s important to dissect where the pervasive narrative that men are inherently dangerous stems from. Much of it doesn’t come from observable reality but from inherited fears, sensational media, and a projection of internal chaos onto an external threat. The modern woman is constantly bombarded by contradictory messaging: be empowered and free, yet hypervigilant; express sexuality without judgment, yet assume men are predators when they notice it. What this creates is not safety or awareness—it creates paranoia and a broken social dynamic.

Men with grounded endocrine profiles—those with balanced androgens, stable dopamine, and proper energy regulation—are not impulsive predators. They are restrained, thoughtful, often more empathetic than credited. But women who have grown up in high-stress environments, with chronically elevated cortisol and serotonin, often lack the neurological capacity to distinguish between internal anxiety and external threat. When fear is the default state, any masculine presence becomes suspect—even when it’s safe, even when it’s benign.

This projection is not just unfair to men; it’s dangerous for society. It trains women to distrust precisely those men who are most likely to be stable partners and role models. It alienates men from their natural role as protectors—not because they aren’t capable, but because they’re told their protection is control, and their concern is manipulation. As a result, women become both more afraid and more alone, not because of male malice, but because of their own refusal to update the narrative.