“I’m not surprised,” women say, in response to the flood of revelations of sexual “misconduct” by men, especially men in positions of power.

But none of us — women or men — should be surprised, because the United States is a patriarchal society and in patriarchy men routinely claim the right to own or control women’s bodies for reproduction and sexual pleasure. Men — liberal and conservative — know that just as well as women.

I am not as abusive as Harvey Weinstein, nor as narcissistic as Bill O’Reilly. I’m more respectful to women than Donald Trump, and not as sleazy as Anthony Weiner.

Judged by the standards set by these public reprobates, most of the rest of us men appear almost saintly, and therein lies a danger. The public disclosure of these men’s behavior — from the routinely offensive to the occasionally criminal — is a good thing, and all those who have been harassed and raped should continue to speak out.

Now that the “bathroom bill” has died in the Texas Legislature and the political fireworks are over — for the moment — we should step back and consider what makes the transgender issue so vexing.

Although the most compelling critiques of pornography over the past four decades have been articulated by radical feminists, many young people—including women—assume that challenges to the pornographic culture come only from conservative and/or religious perspectives. As a result, secular and liberal folks often assume that they must endorse porn to be cool.

The terms to describe the buying and selling of bodies for sex in the modern world convey much about the underlying ideological debate going on in the culture, and within feminism.

Donald Trump comments caught on tape reveal underpinnings of inequality in our society.

Most public discussions assume that liberals will support and conservatives will reject the transgender movement’s claims. A more radical feminism — one that doesn’t shy away from challenging male dominance — offers a different approach.

Our task is to reject men’s claim to control women’s reproductive power and sexuality, while calling out White supremacy and a widening equality gap.

Experts agree—this isn’t just a moral issue, it’s a serious health concern that affects us all.

Most people involved in feminist movements know how bitter the trans debate has become, and those of us who identify with radical feminist principles are used to being labeled transphobic TERFs (Trans Exclusionary Radical Feminist), sometimes even accused of supporting a climate of violence against trans people. My goal here is not to assign responsibility for the breakdown of dialogue, but to point out one consequence of this state of affairs: Many people are afraid not only to disagree with the trans movement’s policy positions but even to ask questions about the underlying claims.

Last year in my University of Texas office, after I had summarized for a group of young women the feminist critique of pornography (which they had never heard of), one of the students in her early 20s suggested that older people (such as myself, age 57) are out of step with young people, including young women. Yes, some pornography is nasty, she said, but she and her friends don’t get all worked up — it’s just porn.