Women are hypocrites. Women are opportunists. Women are liars.

Hear the fierce words of Bari Weiss, sharp as iron and unflinching as fire: “Women are hypocrites. Women are opportunists. Women are liars. They are abusers and bullies and manipulators. They are capable of cruelty, callousness, and evil. Just like men.” At first, they strike the ear with harshness, almost as an indictment. Yet behind them lies not hatred, but a challenge to false idolatries. For Weiss calls us to abandon the shallow myths that elevate women—or men—into saintly categories, untouched by the darker shades of the human soul. Instead, she reminds us of a hard and liberating truth: all are human, and all are capable of good and evil.

The origin of such words lies in the age-old struggle against stereotypes and the illusions they breed. For centuries, men were often portrayed as strong, rational, and dangerous, while women were painted as pure, nurturing, and morally superior. Yet both images are lies, crafted to confine. The one imprisons men in hardness; the other binds women in false holiness. Weiss tears through both, declaring that women, like men, are complex—capable of greatness and of cruelty, of love and of betrayal. In doing so, she grants women not condemnation, but dignity: the dignity of being seen as fully human.

History itself confirms this truth. Queens and empresses, often remembered for their glory, have also been ruthless. Catherine de’ Medici orchestrated massacres. Empress Wu Zetian of China rose to power through cunning and brutality. These women were no less human than the men beside them, no less touched by ambition and capable of darkness. And yet, alongside them, we find women of luminous compassion—Florence Nightingale, Harriet Tubman, Mother Teresa—proving that within the same human nature lies both shadow and light.

The same duality shines in the history of men. For every tyrant—Hitler, Stalin, Genghis Khan—there are men of vision and mercy: Lincoln, Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr. Thus Weiss’s words echo the deepest wisdom: neither sex holds a monopoly on virtue or on vice. To pretend otherwise is to blind ourselves, to deny truth, and to perpetuate myths that harm both women and men alike.

Her statement, then, is not meant to degrade women but to elevate the conversation about equality. True equality does not come from saying “women are better” or “men are worse.” It comes from recognizing that both carry the full weight of humanity—its cruelty and its compassion, its selfishness and its sacrifice. Only when we admit this can we begin to treat each other not as symbols, but as souls.

The lesson for us is clear: reject false sanctifications. Do not pedestal women as angels, nor condemn men as devils. See individuals for what they are—creatures of complexity, capable of greatness and corruption alike. If we acknowledge this truth, we are no longer surprised by betrayal, nor blinded to cruelty, no matter who enacts it. Instead, we can build systems of justice and relationships of honesty that are grounded in reality, not fantasy.

Therefore, O seekers of truth, carry Bari Weiss’s words as a torch: recognize humanity as it is, not as we wish to imagine it. Do not flatter one sex with illusions of purity, nor burden the other with assumptions of vice. Instead, see clearly: men and women alike are mirrors of the same human struggle, capable of beauty and of darkness. To embrace this is to step into maturity, where equality is not flattery, but truth; not blindness, but sight.