Frankly, the current linguistic nightmares regarding gender are far beyond my capacities to encompass. So, for the moment, I will set them aside and speak in the frames I was taught. Nonetheless, please understand that, even as a child, I recognized those frames were broken.

And mere words will never repair that, and could, in fact, make it far worse.

That said, I was taught by a relatively wise older man that, long ago, in Athens, there was a peculiar tradition. I didn’t live in Athens then. I don’t know what actually took place. But the narrative is fascinating… and profound…

In this story, Athens has citizens and slaves. The citizens literally own the slaves. There are other weird features of this story. For example, the citizens marry and have sex with their spouses primarily to cement power and social influence. And the citizens do this because they are aware that the power of »eros is chaotic. In the sense that you cannot control it.

In the halls of power and influence, control is sublime… and effective.

They couldn’t risk losing that.

So they reserved their »eros, primarily, for slaves.

Now, obviously, this isn’t the only thing that happened. And there were all kinds of problems. If they fell »in love with a slave, this represented a threat to their power. And influence. So they either exiled the slaves (sometimes with a stipend)… or had them killed.

Eventually, »Christian slaves refused to fuck them. Even under threat of death.

And this was a huge problem.

Now, the citizens could vote. And exercise their power, wealth, and influence. The slaves were voiceless. And had neither rights nor property.

But there is an unexpected exception. In this story, one day per year, the slaves became the masters. And could ask »anything of those who owned them.

For one day per year.

Anything.

I have only vaguely traced the outlines of the story. But my purpose was to suggest something that is, for me, an interesting reflection of Athens in this narrative.

A few moments ago I was thinking how astonishing and refreshing and absolutely dangerous it might be…

If, one day each week… males had no authority.

None.

And the women could ask anything of them.

Anything.