Sympathy for Karen

Once Karens roamed the urban landscape freely, admired for their beauty and benevolence and wit; now they lumber through craft stores and fast-casual restaurants, and no-one bends their knee anymore.

We feel sorry for the Karens of the western world – we really do – as the reality of their sitch hits home like a gloved mall-cop (as per link below).

Women have been told since age 12 to dress up nice, makeup face and hair, and for fcs don’t let anyone see your clunge. Then sometime in the late teens (or earlier), they discover that certain anatomical features can make them money, gain power over weak men, and generally level-up amongst lesser women.

But in the early 40s – or late 40s if you have a trainer and dietician and established Sugar Daddy (e.g. JLo) – parts drop, hairstylists take longer, and you’re told to cover up bc “no-one wants to see that”. (Men are to blame here btw – not as much as the Fashion Industry and Procter&Gamble, but we are shamed).

Their child-bearing years behind them, Queen Karen discovers her mere presence doesn’t command obedience as all the feminists told her it would. Their family has moved on (bc biology), the Male Gaze eludes them, and pink-framed glasses and layered, frosted hair cant hide that they are on the downslope. Reflexively they shout at a world that no longer sees them as threatening financially, worth bedding, or even sympathetic as a mother.

Karen: volunteer at the local soup kitchen, donate blood, maybe a quilt for the women’s shelter – in the meantime stow your privilege and stfu.

_{Story By: Towleroad}