It has been clear for a long time that mask mandates don’t work. In fact, the only hard evidence we have either way suggests that mass mask mandates only contribute to the problem. So, the matter really boils down to this: do you want to look like you are helping people, or do you want to actually help people?
I have noticed that a similar question may be asked of husbands in how they relate to their wives. A husband is the federal head of his home, which means he is responsible for everything that happens in it. As a husband, there is nothing in my house about which I can say, “I’m not responsible for that.” Thus, a man is properly fulfilling his role as the head of his family when he steps into that responsibility. Properly exercised, his headship protects the family, providing a safe place in which the marriage can be sanctified and the children can be raised in the fear of God.
Before I continue, I’m going to play my new card called “qualifications.” No, I don’t think a husband has a right to order his wife around for his own pleasure. No, I don’t think a husband is more valuable than his wife. No, I don’t think we should obey God while scowling at the world with chicken bones stuck in cavities, growling, “I don’t cer about none o’ y’all! I don’t cer what ya think! Let me alone!”
As I was saying, a similar question may be asked of husbands concerning their wives: do you want to look like you love your wife, or do you actually want to love her? Most people believe that a husband loves his wife when he gives full-reign to feminism and takes an overall passive approach to leading his home. Any decisions that are made are ours, because she has just as much say. Any outside criticism may be addressed to her just as well as him, because she – an independent, strong, confident woman – represents the home like he does.
These assumptions are false, and they are dangerous. They give only the impression of love. In reality, they are examples of an abdication of responsibility where my wife is sacrificed to the god of popular approval and/or laziness.
Example One: Decisions
Family decisions belong ultimately to the husband because he is the lord of the house. His wife is his wisest councilor, and so her hesitation is a bright red-flag. She is one flesh with him, and so any choice that would hurt her comes off the table. Further, she has her own realm of responsibility with which he has no authority to interfere. Even so, at the end of the line, where they go to church is up to him, whether they go on a picnic this Saturday is up to him, and what vehicle they buy next is up to him. Even if he delegates a decision to her, he is still responsible.
Rosie and Co. tell me this is oppressive. The drag queens mutter something like, “backward.” But this is how God designed the family to operate, this is what God created me to do as a man, and this is how I protect my wife. If the decisions are ultimately mine, then I am ultimately responsible for the decisions. This means that my wife does not have to bear the weight of household failures. She may be the one to blame for some troubles, and she will always have her own sins that need sanctifying. But the weight of the home should never be on her shoulders. God put it on my shoulders. When I bear it, I provide a safe place for her to fulfill her own responsibilities.
This is the true path of liberation for my wife. If I abdicate my responsibility as head of the home, then she will have to bear that weight. It will press her down like a bulldozer treading a cat into the side of a hill, and she will stay there with dirt-clogged nostrils while the Women’s Liberation Union parades by with trombones. Feminism is sick. God did not create my wife to bear the weight of our home. Out from under that oppressor, she can live in freedom. So, yes, family decisions are ultimately mine in my home, and it’s going to stay that way because I love my wife dearly.
Example Two: Criticism
This leads to the second example. If someone has a bone to pick with one of these decisions, then they come to me. She was integral in the making of that decision, but I passed the final verdict. I’m the one who should be addressed. I’m the tar and feather candidate.
Again, this protects my wife from bearing the weight of our home. God made me to be a man – to be strong, to fight, to obtain and protect a domain. I’m the one at the front door puffing a corn cob and leaning on a baseball bat. Anything that gets in my home has to come through me. Anyone who gets in my home has to come through me. This particularly includes gossipers, naggers, critics, and other types of lizards. Above my home is a sign that reads, “Address all cyanide-laced letters to ‘head of the house.'”
There are many husbands who play the part of protector by watching out for the occasional public drunk, by keeping a 9mm polished and stowed in the dresser, and by pushing for new PR’s at the gym. Those are good things, but they will only be applicable a few times in your life. The daily onslaught of intruders is often overlooked. You would take a bullet for your wife, but would you confront a man who criticized her personally? You would take responsibility for stopping a thief, but would you take responsibility for a bad vacation idea?
I think there are tactful ways of going about this. There are beautifying, joyful ways of presenting this Biblical idea to the world. I know that, and I am daily seeking to get better at it. Even so, what the world thinks about my behavior is of very little consequence. I am often lumped into the dough with actual, “make me a sandwich” mysogynists. I receive the typical feminist curses: “Oppressor!” I am assumedly ultra conservative, backward, reclusive, and generally unpleasant. These are cute, but I would like to see a bit more creativity.
It matters very little to me because I love God and I love my wife. The criticism of a screeching Karen or a PMSing Kyle is quite a small price to pay for loving my wife. I pay it gladly.