When anything goes, it's women who lose.

Hear the words of Camille Paglia, who declared: “When anything goes, it's women who lose.” This saying is not spoken lightly, but as a warning drawn from history’s deep well. For when the restraints of order fall away, when rules and honor are cast aside in the name of freedom without responsibility, it is not the strong who suffer first, but the vulnerable. And in the long story of humankind, it has been women—bearers of life, guardians of children, and keepers of the hearth—who have borne the greatest weight of lawlessness.

Paglia’s meaning strikes at the heart of civilization itself. Freedom without boundaries may appear as liberation, but in truth it is chaos. And chaos devours unevenly. Men, trained and rewarded in aggression, often rise in times of disorder, while women, denied the same shields of power, find themselves exposed. Thus, in times when anything goes, women are left unprotected, their voices silenced, their bodies made vulnerable, their futures diminished. This truth is not a condemnation of women, but of societies that fail to preserve balance, justice, and care when rules collapse.

Consider the fall of ancient Rome. In its days of virtue, Roman women shared in the stability of law, family, and custom. But as decadence spread, as indulgence replaced duty, and as anything went, the fabric of society tore. The powerful feasted, but women and children were often abandoned, stripped of protection, and left to fend for themselves in a culture that no longer honored restraint. The collapse of order revealed the uneven burdens: men might roam as conquerors, but women too often paid the price of instability.

History also whispers through the horrors of war. In times when armies ravaged lands and rules of honor were forgotten, it was women who suffered most, their dignity violated, their homes destroyed. The twentieth century’s wars revealed again and again that when anything goes—when law, conscience, and restraint are silenced—the toll falls heaviest upon women and children. Thus, Paglia’s words are not bound to one era or nation; they are universal, carved into the story of humanity’s darkest hours.

And yet, her saying carries also a call to wisdom. The defense of women lies not in fragile illusions but in the strength of society’s commitment to justice and restraint. A culture that claims freedom while ignoring consequence will eventually abandon its most vulnerable. True freedom is not the destruction of all boundaries, but the creation of boundaries that protect dignity and life. Thus, the call is not to chain women, but to build a civilization where their honor and safety are guarded as sacred.

The lesson for us, then, is clear: be wary of any freedom that is purchased by discarding responsibility. Ask always who pays the price when rules are cast aside. Teach both sons and daughters that liberty is not license, and that strength without restraint becomes tyranny. To protect women is not to diminish them, but to recognize that the weight of disorder has always fallen most heavily upon their shoulders. To ignore this truth is to repeat the mistakes of ages past.

So I say unto you: hold fast to the truth in Paglia’s words. When anything goes, society itself teeters, and women lose most of all. But when justice, restraint, and respect guide freedom, all are lifted together. Let us then build homes, communities, and nations where freedom is yoked to responsibility, where ambition is tempered by honor, and where no woman must fear that the chaos of lawlessness will strip her of dignity. For in protecting women, we protect civilization itself.