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A Better World, Run by Women - A Bullcrap article from the Wall Street Journal

some comments from me about this article - 

equality is the celebration of differences. this article is a great example of a sexist and bigoted viewpoint in todays modern and progressive world. while there is some science in the article, most of it is used to "spin" the superiority of the female race. i celebrate women and international women and believe that we are created equal... this article strives to achieve the elimination of men in power while i say there is nothing wrong with people in power that happen to be men. Instead of a case for women that this article has chosen to shine a light on, you could throw in facts and statistics that would attribute causality for any race or ethnicity. here are some terrible yet apt examples: why are white people better at leading us to a better place in technology? why are asians ethnically better at bringing us agricultural progress? what is it about the australoid gene that is better than native south american gene that brings us a realm of better leadership? blah blah blah... nothing but bigotry. this is not equality. this is feminist tyranny.
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by MELVIN KONNER

Male biology has brought the world war, corruption and scandal. Women are poised to lead us to a better place

Hillary Clinton seems to be preparing to run for president, and the former Hewlett-Packard CEO Carly Fiorina may yet enter the race on the Republican side. Whoever wins the White House in 2016, today it seems easily possible that within the next decade, the U.S. will follow Britain, Germany, Brazil, Argentina, India, Israel, Thailand, Norway and dozens of other countries in electing a woman to our most powerful office.

Can we predict the consequences? Yes, we can—and the news is good.

Research has found that women are superior to men in most ways that will count in the future, and it isn’t just a matter of culture or upbringing—although both play their roles. It is also biology and the aspects of thought and feeling shaped by biology. It is because of chromosomes, genes, hormones and brain circuits.

And no, by this I don’t mean what was meant by patronizing men who proclaimed the superiority of women in the benighted past—that women are lofty, spiritual creatures who must be left out of the bustle and fray of competitive life, business, politics and war, so that they can instill character in the next generation. I mean something like the opposite of that.

All wars are boyish. People point to Margaret Thatcher, Indira Gandhi and Golda Meir as evidence that women, too, can be warlike. But these women were perched atop all-male hierarchies confronting other hypermasculine political pyramids, and they were masculinized as they fought their way to the top.

There is every reason to think that a future national hierarchy staffed and led by women who no longer have to imitate men, dealing with other nations similarly transformed, would be less likely to go to war. But that’s not all. Sex scandals, financial corruption and violence are all overwhelmingly male.

We must give up the illusion of sameness between the sexes. The mammalian body plan is basically female. The reason males exist is that a gene on the Y chromosome derails the basic genetic plan. It causes testes to form, and they produce testosterone while suppressing female development.

Testosterone goes to the brain in late prenatal life and prepares the hypothalamus and amygdala for a lifetime of physical aggression and a kind of sexual drive that is detached from affection and throws caution to the winds. (I know, not all men, but way too many.) By contrast, almost all women, protected from that hormonal assault, have brains that take care of business without this kind of distracting and destructive delirium.

Our own species hasn’t always suffered from male supremacy. Among our hunter-gatherer ancestors, living in small, mobile communities, group decisions were made face to face, among men and women who knew each other intimately. Men tried to dominate, but it wasn’t easy. They could show off by hunting, but war, that universal booster of male status, wasn’t common.

This changed when hunter-gatherers settled in larger, denser populations. Such cultures could have nobles, commoners and slaves, and they made war often. Men became more aloof from families, and women increasingly became the objects of male strife. Politics became a male game, played in public spaces where men could shame and exclude women, and these tendencies grew more powerful with the rise of farming and chiefdoms and empires.

The Bible, the Iliad, the great Indian epics—all of them are full of sex and violence. I don’t know whether Helen’s face was what launched a thousand Greek ships against Troy. I don’t know whether David really fell in love with Bathsheba and had her soldier-husband sent to die at the front, or if Solomon had seven hundred wives. But all the evidence suggests the plausibility of such stories, and this culture of male domination didn’t come to an end with the ancients. It prevailed throughout the middle ages and the Renaissance as well.

But then what happened? Why did some men begin at last to let go of their privileges?

The great transformation of the past two centuries—the slow but relentless decline of male supremacy—can be attributed in part to the rise of Enlightenment ideas generally. The liberation of women has advanced alongside the gradual emancipation of serfs, slaves, working people and minorities of every sort.

But the most important factor has been technology, which has made men’s physical strength and martial prowess increasingly obsolete. Male muscle has been replaced to a large extent by machines and robots. Today, women operate fighter jets and attack helicopters, deploying more lethal force than any Roman gladiator or Shogun warrior could dream of.

As women come to hold more power and public authority, will they become just like men? I don’t think so. Show me a male brain, and I will show you a bulging amygdala—the brain’s center of fear and violence—densely dotted with testosterone receptors. Women lack the biological tripwires that lead men to react to small threats with exaggerated violence and to sexual temptation with recklessness.

Growing evidence shows that women leaders operate differently. The government shutdown of October 2013 ended, despite a complete congressional impasse, when three women Republican Senators broke ranks from their party. Two women Democrats followed their lead, and men on both sides came along. The bipartisan committee that worked on the final deal was gender balanced, but John McCain perceptively joked that the women were taking over.

Sen. Susan Collins of Maine, who had started it all by courageously calling for compromise, told a reporter, “I don’t think it’s a coincidence…. Although we span the ideological spectrum, we are used to working together.” While male colleagues crossed their arms and sulked, women crossed the aisle with phone calls, email and social media. The men saw a deal they could live with and followed suit.

What about women in executive office? There are not yet enough women heads of state to study them systematically, but there are enough in other governing roles. In a 2006 study, political scientist Lynne Weikart and her colleagues surveyed 120 mayors—65 women and 55 men—in comparable cities of over 30,000. Women mayors were far more likely to alter the budget process and seek broad participation.

Perhaps it is time for us to consider returning to the hunter-gatherer rules that prevailed for 90% of human history: women and men working at their jobs, sharing, talking, listening and tending children. Men didn’t strongly dominate because they couldn’t; women’s voices were always there, speaking truth to male power every night around the fire. There was violence, and it was mainly male, but it was mostly random, accident more than ideology.

Women won’t make a perfect world, but it will be less flawed than the one that men have made and ruled these thousands of years. My grandson, I think, will be happy in the new world. It will be better for him because women will contribute so much more to running it.

Twenty years have passed since the death of my sister -Dick Eudaly

Twenty years have passed since the death of my sister,
Katherine Mae (Kay) Eudaly Hart

by Richard Milton (Dick) Eudaly

As we approach the twentieth anniversary of my sister Kay’s death, I want to share some memories of her. I keep on my desk a copy of her funeral service. It reads: Katharine Mae (Kay) Eudaly Hart. November 27, 1946 – March 3, 1995. I want to speak about the “dash.”

When our dad (Nathan Hoyt Eudaly, Sr.) was discharged from, the U. S. Coast Guard at the end of World War II, he, my mom and I moved to Fort Worth in the summer of 1945 so he could follow his call and prepare for mission work at Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary. He bought a home at 4505 Wayside Dr. which was occupied by fellow seminary students, James and Carolyn Coggin. They were expecting a baby in December. For a few months we all lived in the same small house. I was there to welcome their new arrival, Olivia Ruth Coggin, on December 23, 1945. I enjoyed watching her in her crib.

Shortly thereafter, the Coggins found a place of their own, and then we were three again. I missed the baby. That spring Mom and Dad told me that we were going to have a baby of our own. I immediately asked for a little sister…a little girl. They told me I could pray to that end, and I did every day. I don’t know if many babies have had as much sibling prayer prior to their arrival. God was good and gave us a girl. This made me very glad. For the next year and a half, the four of us lived there on Wayside while Dad finished his degree. That same year, he and Mom were appointed by the Southern Baptist Foreign Mission Board to serve as missionaries in Spanish-speaking areas. My dad felt he “knew” Spanish well enough, having grown up speaking “Tex/Mex in his hometown of Grandfalls, in west Texas.

So we began preparations for our big adventure. The four of us were headed to Morelia, Michoacán, Mexico in southern Mexico, an area where many of the people were of Tarascan Indian origins and Spanish was a second language to them. There were very few foreigners in Morelia. When we arrived in our 1948 Chevy Suburban Carryall and trailer full of belongings, Kay and I were the only two Anglo children in town! Tow-headed, pale-skinned blondes, we were unusual, to say the least. A crowd always surrounded us wherever we went. They had never seen anything like us before.

At first we had no one to play with except each other, as we could not communicate with the native children. I remember that our toys were some straw animals and straw mats except for her doll and my wooden rifle. Quickly, we both did start learning Spanish and were able to understand other kids, as well as participate in our Spanish language church. We learned to eat lots of bananas and tortillas and enjoyed our housekeeper, Agrippina Campos, whom we called Conco.

In 1948-1949, rural southern Mexico was very rugged. We did have electricity, indoor plumbing and running water (that had to be purified), otherwise many conditions were like the early 1900’s in the U.S.A. We saw lots of burros, oxen, horses, wooden plows, etc. As we visited outlying mission points, we contracted malaria, flat worms, pin worms and other sub-tropical associated issues.

The most memorable event of that year was our blowout induced, roll-over car wreck that occurred as we turned on a switchback mountain road close to Toluca, Mexico. One minute I was lying on top of our luggage looking out the rear window of our suburban “shooting” the resident animals with my wooden gun. The next minute I had rolled down the mountain side and the car was upside down in the grass with Mom, Dad and Kay still in it.

Fortunately, we were relatively unscathed except for the car. We were able to be back on our way in another vehicle within a few days.

By this time, it had become evident that my dad’s Spanish proficiency was not adequate for the level of communication necessary to do his job. Within a year, we transferred to Medellin, Columbia, South America so that he and Mom could attend Spanish language school from 1949 to 1950.

This was an interim situation for us. Missionaries and their families would stay in Medellin a year and then transfer to more permanent duty stations.

Our home in Medellin was built around 2 patios – one for us and the couple who also shared the school- supplied house and the second patio in the back for the housekeeper and cook, plus an area that housed the kitchen, laundry and pantry area. We were not supposed to play in that area. Dad was convinced that the cook had her deceased husband’s shrunken head in her room, supported by the fact that we lived close to “head hunter” country. I never found that shrunken head, though I took every opportunity to sneak in and look for it.

Kay and I devised a game of elevator operator. Our windows had bars on the outside and wooden shutters on the inside and NO glass – so we entertained ourselves being alternately passenger and/or operator.

Kay and I were confirmed Mexicans. We did not like Columbian food and were so glad when we learned that we were being transferred to Torreon, Coahuila, Mexico, where Dad would be on the staff of the Mexican Baptist Seminary there.

Our trip from Medellin to Torreon was coordinated so that we could have stops along the way, as long as progress was continued in the same direction toward the ultimate destination. Dad managed to add six extra countries to our trip from Colombia to the states in order to make personal contact with missionaries in those countries. We had stopovers in Quito, Ecuador; Panama City, Panama; San Jose, Costa Rica; Guatemala City, Guatemala; Kingston, Jamaica, and Havana, Cuba. The contacts that Dad made in those cities were folks with whom he would follow up for decades to come.

Our stopover in Guatemala City was full of excitement. The “missionary travel plan” presumes staying with families of missionaries wherever possible, and this stop was no exception. Our few days were spent with fellow missionaries, the Webbs and their 2 children, who welcomed us into their home. Guatemalan regulations required that our luggage be left at the airport for fumigation! So without our pajamas or a change of clothes, we went to sleep in beds and woke up on the floor surrounded by all the heavy furniture in the house and as far away from the windows as possible. A revolution had broken out overnight. The people were balloting with bullets. We stayed low and close for 3 days. The Webb family members thankfully shared their clothing with us. At the end of the conflict, we were able to continue our trip with our “fumigated” bags!

We lived in Torreon for two years (1950 – 1952). Next door to us was a dairy with real live milk cows. I enjoyed visiting our neighbors and helping them with the cows. Our backyard had a tall adobe wall with broken glass all along the top. These walls were not meant for climbing and anyone who did (yours truly) would suffer lots of cuts.

There was a strong American presence in Torreon which was in a cotton farming and mining area known as “La Laguna” (the Lake). I was in school during the days. When we arrived, Kay was still too young to attend. Mom’s mother, Bertha Mae Piepmeier Saddler (“Mom Mae”), came and spent several months with us. And Dad performed a miracle for us. He was able to arrange for our beloved former housekeeper, Conco, from Morelia to join us in Torreon and live in our house with us. We were so happy.

Everyday Conco made fresh corn tortillas for us. Kay and I got some of the corn and played in the yard with it. What a surprise when a few weeks later we had a corn crop in the flower bed. During a revival at our church, Primera Iglesia Bautista (First Baptist Church), Torreon, Mexico, led by Dr. T. B. Maston from Southwestern Seminary in Fort Worth I asked Christ into my life in the spring of 1952. We waited for me to be baptized until that summer when Dad baptized me in his home church, First Baptist Church, Grandfalls, Texas, where his mother, Katharine Brainard Eudaly, still lived.

In August 1952 we moved back to the states into a home at the Baptist Spanish Publishing House in El Paso, Texas. Except for two furloughs in Fort Worth, Mom and Dad would work here for the next twenty-five years. Dad was in charge of business and distribution which meant that he was responsible for getting the Spanish language tracts, quarterlies, books and Bibles that were printed at the publishing house to all the Spanish speaking world. This required lots of travel on his part.

During that time, Mom wrote 19 books, many of them in Spanish, as well as Sunday School materials for elementary school age children.

Our brother Nathan Hoyt Eudaly, Jr., was born September 10, 1955. He and Kay grew close as I was off to college within five years of his arrival.

On Mom and Dad’s second furlough in 1962-1963, they were in Fort Worth. I was a junior at Texas Tech University studying Animal Science. (As an aside, Tech is where dad had graduated, where Kay would attend and meet and marry William George Hart who has 2 degrees from Tech.)

In Fort Worth, Kay met a new/old friend, Olivia Ruth Coggin, with whom we had shared the house on Wayside Drive some seventeen years prior. Olivia was now a senior at Paschal High School. She was extremely vivacious and pretty. Kay wanted us to reconnect and talked to me about going out with Olivia when I came to Fort Worth for Thanksgiving break in November, 1962. I took her up on the idea and in 1968, Olivia and I were married, and well, the rest is history. (I’ll share the dash between 1962 – 1968 at another time!)

I am very grateful that the sister I prayed for brought me to the wife that was perfect for me. And it occurs to me with this writing that I shared that little house on Wayside with four ladies who all accomplished a great work in me: Kay, our Mom (Hazel Marie Saddler Eudaly), Olivia and her mom (Carolyn Garrick Coggin). Thank God for His providence in all things, even the prayers of a child for a little sister.