It's not dead.
I'm readily chivalrous toward both genders.
If a woman ever gave me a bad time for opening the door for her, I'd calmly explain to her that I would have done the same if she were a man. Depending on who it is, I might even explain to her how I find it a bit disconcerting that she would turn a common courtesy into a frivolous and trivial gender issue. I might even tell her how it disappoints me.
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Knowing that death is certain and that the time of death is uncertain, what's the most important thing?
—Bhikkhuni Pema Chödrön
Humankind cannot bear very much reality.
—From "Burnt Norton," Four Quartets (1936), T. S. Eliot
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