This sounds kind've like some dystopian sci-fi novel.

Wonderful piece.

Amazing. As I read this, I thought about what it would be like for me (a female) to be in that world, with so much power and support. I totally understand why men dont want to lose the position they have now in this patriarchal hell.

Something to add under sex and relationships:

"Any time a woman had a son instead of a daughter, the father would be blamed for supplying a sperm with a Y chromosome instead of one with an X. Any miscarriage or birth defect would be blamed, somehow, on the father; either his DNA or his personal habits would be subject to scrutiny."

@Femgineer: I think one of the saddest things about the current system is that non-feminist or anti-feminist men often don't realize how they're hurting themselves and cheating their sons. You can never oppress someone else without doing injustice to yourself.

The biology would be quite easy to subvert... you just have to think outside the patriarchal box.

Sex would not be understood as penetrative, probably more along the lines of the all powerful vagina eveloping/swallowing/something else of a passive penis. The dominant sex position would be forms of women on top. Also pornography would be from the female perspective and no money shots. Also, random litetary refrence, the scene with Biliquis in American Gods by Neil Gaiman would probably be a dominant theme in hardcore pornography (akin to gangbang and rape porn in patriarachal societies)(and the scene has Biliquis litearlly eating/absorbing the man thorugh her vagina).

Men, being so full of testosterone and muscle, would be seen as less intelligent than women and only really usefull as manual labor. They would be barred from all but the most basic of jobs (such as secretary, construction grunts (they're not smart enough to be the lead engineers), and military (again only the lower ranks). However, they would be expected to care for our children, because women are off running the world. A strange hypocrisy of being to dumb/strong/ragefilled to fill any real career positions, but expected to raise children.

Also, women's menstruation would be a spiritual time each month. Medical technology (since it is run by women) will have figured out long ago how to make childbirth less dangerous and menstruation less painful. There would be no birth control that caused horrible sideffects for women, but men, being shafted in the 'lets research this problem' department, would be given birth control that causes weight gain, tender testicles, and even life threatening DVT, There would be a nasty meme that "anything that pusses out every time it orgasms should just be shot". Semen would be considered dirty and only necessary for reproduction, there would be a great market to make men feel guilty for there pre-cum and cum.

And imma stop now cause its getting long

Excellent piece. My first thought is how I could not stand a world where the men in my life were treated as such, and then I realize were this world the case, I would probably not have been taught empathy towards men. I also wonder how many men could see this is how it is for women now and still not care, despite the women and girls in their life that they supposedly love.

Perhaps gay men would be seen as 'sexy,' the ultimate fantasy for women would be to surround themselves with hot men all dying to make out with each other for her. Lesbians would be trivialized by women, but men would like to hang out with them more that straight women, because lesbians wouldn't talk down to them as much. Men would all tell each other how they are expected to swallow their partner's menstrual blood, but she almost never even goes near his penis. Of course they would say how they couldn't blame her, the penis is awkward and disgusting, after all.

Something else I'm wondering: how would clothing styles, morals regarding covering up, and fashion trends be affected by this role-reversal? I'm guessing women's clothing would be traditionally more comfortable and less restrictive. Men would be the ones altering their bodies by putting on painful devices and spending hours trying to be more attractive to the female gaze. In some cultures it might be considered necessary for men to cover themselves from head to toe, lest some aspect of their bodies or faces be found attractive by a woman who is not their wife.

Also aging and appearance: a woman with gray hair and wrinkles would be considered "experienced" or "distinguished", whereas men would be obsessively dying their hair, applying creams, exercising constantly, and injecting themselves with fillers to hide the signs of age. Weight would be merely a health issue for women, but the slightest pudge on a man would make him feel ugly and worthless due to the pervasion of young, hot, impossibly fat-free and muscular half-naked men in magazines and advertising (Ironically, this one is starting to become a bit of an issue as eating disorders are becoming more prevalent in males, but females still make up the overwhelming majority in this category). Most male actors' careers would start winding down after their 40th birthday, while 60-something leading ladies would be everywhere.

It's really depressing how much we've been able to come up with so far...

This kind of reminded me of an essay by Gloria Steinem... If Men Could Menstruate. Not nearly the same thing as the Matriarchal Hell, but, hey...

I just searched it on Google... so I won't promise a quality transcript, but here's one.

May I just say... this is brilliant! You should be a writer, Nettle Syrup (f you aren't one already).

Education:

For most of history, men would have been barred from higher education because they were considered too aggressive and sex-obsessed to be trusted in schools. It would be assumed that they couldn't be trusted to pay attention to a professor and engage in serious academic thought because they would be distracted by their masculine urges. Not only this, but any attempts to think critically might worsen their sexual incontinence, threatening their fertility and making them functionally useless. Therefore, it was important to protect men from higher education for their own good and the good of society.

Through the noble efforts of generations of determined men, males have now gained access to higher education. Although equalism is supposedly over, men are still often referred to as "co-eds" and male college students are fetishized in porn. The popular franchise "Boys Gone Wild" takes advantage of undergraduate males, sexually objectifying them and reinforcing a whole slew of stereotypes. Further, Colleges for Men are commonly referred to as "boy's schools," and women joke about the sexual paradise that can be found at boy's schools, where men cavort about in their underwear and make out with each other instead of studying.

I have more to say about education, but I need to post this right now and come back and finish what I was saying later. Anyways, great post!

BEAUTIFULLY done.

Wow. I wish I'd thought of that!

Actually, I wrote a story about this very topic:

Palace Athena

(c) Dominique Millette 1991, 2005

Diana strode across the crowded complex. It was Intergalactic Men’s Day today. She frowned at the animated masses around her. Political token or not, the public holiday inevitably provided a forum for discontent and possible trouble. As a member of the elite Guardian Forces, Diana felt her every sense go on alert. She instinctively let her hand drop to her holster.

Her green eyes swept the clusters of male bodies, some angry, some exultant. Luckily there were many guards brought out for the occasion. Fertile men, the Impregnators, had been allowed out of their Seraglio for the day, although they were outfitted with sonic destroyers in case they escaped the vigilance of their Chaperones. The sterile men were milling about freely, as always, but Diana sensed in them an unusual degree of agitation. Empathy for the Pregs? Misfits and malcontents were always trying to harp on male solidarity and sometimes they succeeded, especially on days like this. She smirked as she eyed sagging bellies and retreating hairlines. Some of these men were probably here because of sexual frustration more than anything else.

Shrugging off her speculations, Diana wove her way out of the crowd and stepped into the sleek, low glass-enclosed building which housed the air-conditioned sanctuary of her Tantric sex instruction classes. This was her day off, and she intended to enjoy it.

A few of the most handsome Steriles had been recruited and generously paid to service the group of women for the duration of their membership. The men were carefully selected to match their future mates in height and build. The young were given to older women, and more experienced men were matched with the young. Nothing was left to chance. The recruits were given special drugs to enhance performance and make it last in case they didn’t respond to their assigned partners. All Tantric recruits were given an extensive seminar to help prepare them for the class.

Diana had specifically requested a dark-haired and dark-eyed boy with full, generous lips and a good sprinkling of body hair. His body had to be slim but strong. Diana herself was slightly heavy around the middle; her partner needed good biceps to lift her.

She smiled broadly as she was introduced to him. Don was perfect. Diana mentally gave him nine out of ten. He blushed and batted his lashes in embarrasment as he tossed back his hair. How sweet! Maybe they had found her a virgin. Then again, with that face he would have been noticed and requisitioned by quite a few women already. He was seventeen, and most of them were broken in before that.

As it turned out, Don was a hungry student, not exactly the usual for the Tantric scene. He needed a bit of money, and with so many jobs subject to the vagaries of seasonal cycles or economic upturns, there was nowhere else to go. It was clearly not easy for him to toss aside his usual modesty. His every movement betrayed the startled uncertainty of a newborn colt.

Diana felt a soft pang of empathy. Poor boy. She smiled benevolently and reassured him with a soothing voice that this would be a good experience for both of them. Her pulse was racing with anticipation. In accordance with her training, she took a deep breath and controlled her sexual feelings to save them for exactly the right moment.

The instructor called everyone to order and invited the women to discuss specific problems, make suggestions or exchange ideas. After these preliminaries, they would go through Exercise, Erotic Dress and Stroking Tactics. For actual sex, curtains could be drawn and mirrors revealed, and a red light would discreetly blink at the instructor and assistants, if needed, to come help with specific details. Diana listened with interest, her eyes dancing with amusement at Don’s wide-open stare of innocence. She could see he was rapidly responding to the group conversation and had to fight her own reaction. It looked like Don was having trouble remembering the control tactics he was taught in seminar. Diana gave a wolfish grin and rubbed his shoulders. He blushed like a rose.

Scattered cushions of various shapes, sizes and fabrics dotted the sybaritic surroundings. Low-slung chairs upholstered in leather, velvet, silk and cotton were placed near the ten screened-off sunken baths spaced at regular intervals against the walls. Feathered mattresses alternated with genuine mink and fox throw rugs, adding a further touch of luxury to the deep plush carpeting which covered the floor. For those who preferred hard surfaces, nearby large marble and wood tables could be cleared of their oils, creams, powders, silken ropes and toys. Attendants stood poised and waiting to help.

Management provided everything, down to the soft long towels and bathrobes. Of course, there was a price. Diana had splurged a quarter of her salary on these distractions. They were worth it. She felt lucky that she had not yet been chosen for State Reproduction, even if women were well compensated for bearing children.

Diana admired the process even as she appreciated not participating. A computer scan pre-selected women and available Impregnators as mates to allow for optimum genetic combinations. However, the selection procedure took into account the need to vary the gene pool; inferior strains were sometimes injected at random. Parentage was duly recorded to prevent inbreeding. In case subjects responded less than enthusiastically to their sexual match, women could opt for artificial insemination. Men were given the appropriate aphrodisiac. Pairings continued until pregnancy occurred. An efficient system. Children were raised by nurses trained for the task, as they should be. A few odd ducks felt that they should be raised by their biological parents, or at least mothers. No one paid attention to this absurdity.

Whatever the rhetoric spouted by malcontents, Pregs were well-treated volunteers. Men’s sterilization could only be reversed within the walls of the well-guarded Seraglio. Their seven years in the compound amounted to a pampered existence: fitness facilities; optional classes in gourmet cooking, basket making, how to fold a towel and flower arrangement; and many games and excursions. Simply, they were not allowed to be near any women aside from their prescribed mates – hence the sexless Chaperones, who were ensconced in armour and armed to the teeth. Pregs were, however, welcome to consort amongst themselves and most did. The State videos sold well as an aide to encourage sanctioned reproduction. Any man who didn’t want to serve his time could opt to make his sterilization irreversible and be done with it. Since most men did, Pregs had to be lured with bonuses. Some men enjoyed living in the compound so much they stayed on longer than the contract stipulated. Others terminated their contracts early, with of course certain financial and social costs attached to their decision.

Some women actually empathized with the Pregs, arguing that it wasn’t fair to keep them like that. Diana found this line of reasoning dangerously irrational. Of course Pregs had to be kept in a compound. Otherwise, they could run loose and get anyone pregnant. That would be a disaster. No woman would seriously tolerate such an inconvenience unless it was scheduled and compensated. It was enough trouble to use sonic destroyers and monitor their every movement for just one day. As a guardian, Diana was glad she hadn’t been called up for duty.

Despite their enviable life, sometimes the men got hysterical and tried to break out. It was never clear why they would do this. Knowing male psychology, it was probably just hormones. Guardians would be summoned to track down the runaways and tranquilize them. After that, they were given medication and intensive psychiatric counseling. Counsellors took care to ensure the runaways understood why they had to change their behaviour. This could be done eventually with an appeal to reason. After all, men were just like people, except with funny bodies. Of course those bodies were made to serve womankind and therefore, humanity; but they also came with minds, however byzantine.

If the runaways got dangerous, they sometimes had to be neutralized. No one liked to do this, since Pregs were difficult to come by and were getting scarcer, a fact with was starting to affect the gene pool. Sperm banks before sterilization were only a partial solution, since their rate of success couldn’t be calculated and planned with the same degree of certainty. There was even talk of lowering admissions criteria to include double-Y mutants. Diana strongly disagreed. Double-Ys were fun Steriles but rotten Pregs. Too much trouble. They would never fit in with the basket-weaving students. They would be the first to break out, and if they didn’t they might start rioting or affect the others.

At least Don didn’t look like a troublemaker. After the exercise session, bodies glistened and gasped. Don flashed a winning smile, his face flushed with the effort. A quick wash-up and application of scented powder was followed by wardrobe selection. Attendants moved among the couples pushing clothing racks before them.

Nearby women circulated scantily clad as Valkyries, Indian goddesses, mystic priestesses and ancient queens. Their partners wore glittering tongas and strips or leather to enhance musculature. Feeling playful, Diana chose the vampire look. It accentuated her raven hair perfectly. Her costume consisted of a black bikini with fringes, a long silken cape, long black fingernails, pewter-fashioned pentacles dangling from a leather thong, and armbands in the shape of serpents and bats. Don dressed up according to her wishes as a sexy young shepherd boy with a gauzy black loincloth. Gold bracelets enhanced his beautiful arms and he wore a headband to give him a wilder, more tousled look.

Everyone then sat or crouched and started touching, breathing deeply and rhythmically to strengthen control. Attendants circulated with drug-laced wine, measured out in precise amounts for those who needed it, and brought out requested equipment.

Diana notice with some irritation that the men were comparing each other, some jealously eyeing the obvious youth of others. Don, however much he was a target of envious glances, seemed oblivious to anything but her. She felt unreasonably flattered even though she had paid to have him there, his senses tricked by copious amounts of aphrodisiacs.

As always, Diana felt her excitement rise at the sight of the other undulating bodies and probing hands. At first Don caressed her waist and hips lightly, with a questioning touch. After some time had elapsed, she pressed her hands on his to make him stroke more firmly, massaging her body into almost unbearable heat. A quick and eager student, he was a dream come true.

She gradually led him to a throw rug, grabbed a few cushions and pulled the curtains tight. The drugs were working perfectly. Diana took her time, guiding him as slowly as she could bear, with an experienced hand. They used the chair, the rug and finally the bath. Her artificial nails dug into his flesh in the time-honored patterns of the Kama Sutra, as did her teeth. The sounds of other couples drifted into their enclosed space, heightening their mutual pleasure.

Four hours later, the couples were interrupted by a sound which bore no relation to the throes of ecstasy. It was the blast of a Molotov cocktail. With the trained reflex of a seasoned Guardian, Diana leapt to her feet and lunged for her weapon. Her steady hand betrayed nothing of how startled she was.

Don’s glazed eyes widened in terror. In a few seconds his mate had undergone a complete metamorphosis from a passionate lover into a murderous automaton. Her face was twisted with anger and annoyance as she turned in all directions to identify the perpetrators.

For a few moments, all was silent. The explosion had broken a window and slightly damaged a table, harming no one. Diana was puzzled. She lowered her weapon, still half-crouched in the flicker of candles. The room buzzed with murmurs and muted exclamations. Women and their consorts dressed hurriedly, while attendants and managers tried to calm their clients.

Suddenly, a group of three runaway Pregs leapt into the room. They had somehow managed to rip out their sonic destroyers, which left a trail of blood behind them. It looked like part of a mutiny. The fear in their faces belied their determination. However, all they had, aside from their home-brewed explosives, were shards of glass, heavy sticks and pieces of metal.

Behind her, Diana heard the click of another Guardian’s weapon and internally breathed a sigh of relief. The rebellion was over before it had begun. When the Pregs saw the the Guardians facing them down, they started to back away with the look of hunted animals. These ones were obviously psychotic. Their blood loss would finish them if the Guardians’ superior weaponry did not.

Despite her anger and revulsion, Diana felt a tug of curiosity. She gestured with her armed hand and commanded the runaways to drop their sharp-edged debris. They obeyed with lowered heads, their eyes glowering. Diana studied their faces intently and demanded an explanation for the outburst. The Pregs, however, said nothing. They were shaking, becoming weaker by the moment, blood pouring from their upper arms and staining the luxury carpeting. Management was visibly annoyed.

The guardian behind Diana stepped forward and swept aside the cache of improvised weapons with a disdainful foot. She whirled to face Diana and spoke with impatience: “Don’t you get it? They’re upset about us. They don’t like the set-up. They think men are being humiliated. A group of them were handing out pamphlets about it. It’s this ego thing they have. Raging hormones or something.” She eyed the men with contempt: “Maybe they wanted to come and join us. Too bad they’re not Steriles. We could’ve had fun. It would have helped them relax. Of course, now it’s a little too late. They don’t look so good.”

A few clients tittered, as much from relief as from agreement now that the danger was gone. The tallest of the protesters lumbered forward a few steps, and, gathering the last of his strength, spat directly into the face of the sneering Guardian before him. Seized with a white fury, she pushed him violently across the room with the heel of her boot. He went crashing helplessly into a precious table laden with perfumes, slid down amongst the thousand shards of broken bottles, and was still, his gaping mouth and sightless eyes a silent accusation.

Despite her training, Diana was in shock. She lowered her weapon, her eyes going from her fellow Guardian to the dead runaway and his two remaining accomplices. One after the other, the bloodied men sank to their knees. Diana rushed to a telecom and contacted the medics team, pushing away the angry other Guardian who was shouting that it was better to finish them off as soon as possible for being a danger to the State. But when Diana rang off, the two were already dead. The medics would have to bring them to a morgue. There would be reports to file, as well as a token public enquiry.

But for now, a loud twitter of excited conversation filled the room, men and women each recounting their own particular reactions to the incident, the women loudly detailing what they would have done had they acted first. The group turned away from the bodies and one by one, the clients spilled out into the street.

It was a beautiful, sunny day and the bustling crowd of male protesters had dissipated for suppertime. Don followed after Diana, who had sheathed her weapon and regained the benign air of a compassionate and generous woman. The young man smiled in admiration and timidly offered his hand. Smiling in turn, she took it. She saw the beginning of a beautiful relationship.

This is an amazing exercise. When I read the suggestions here, my reaction was horror.

Then I reminded myself that this is nothing but the mere REVERSAL of how things were and are for women.

I'm supposed to be a feminist but this means that injustices women face stand out more to me when the equivalent is happening to men. Perhaps it's because it would be highly unusual for any of these things to happen, but I'm very disturbed at how desensitised I really am to misogyny. And of course, my reaction may very well be the result of still-present internalised misogyny. Very disturbing.

This is a great way of trying to make men understand.

There is a novel in norvegian called "egalias döttrar" written in 1977 by Gerd Brantenberg. It the story about a boy that is born in the land of Egalia, where women read the paper in the morning and kiss the men goodbye. its a great novel the author adresses these exact points in showing just how the world works by reversing the order of patriarchy into mathriarcy. I dont think its been translated to english wich is a shame!

Very interesting and kind of funny at times at how bizarre it sounds.
Thanks!