Recently, we received a comment dripping with ignorance and bile: “The voters of Florida support the death penalty, you know democracy…. Majority rule? Your wetting your panties doesn’t change That.” This isn’t an argument. It’s a tantrum. It reeks of fragile masculinity, of men so insecure they can’t confront ideas without reducing women to some cheap sexual insult. When defenders of state killing talk like this, they don’t sound like champions of democracy. They sound like schoolyard bullies desperate to feel powerful, clinging to executions as if blood on their hands could make them men.
Nothing in that comment is true. Not a single word. First, there is no credible poll that shows Floridians overwhelmingly support the death penalty. Politicians like DeSantis love to pretend they have the people behind them, but the truth is murkier. Support crumbles when you ask real questions, about executing the innocent, about racial bias, about the astronomical costs of keeping this machinery of death alive. When faced with facts instead of slogans, Floridians aren’t so sure at all. And even if a slim majority claimed to support it, since when does a mob vote decide who deserves to live or die? Democracy isn’t the tyranny of the loudest crowd. It’s supposed to protect the vulnerable from exactly that.
And here’s the reality: even if a so-called majority did exist, it would mean nothing. Because only a small minority of people actually understand how the death penalty works in practice. They don’t know about the wrongful convictions, the prosecutorial misconduct, the racial bias, the years of solitary confinement, or the fact that it costs more to kill someone than to keep them in prison for life. If this supposed majority were truly informed, their support would collapse into dust. What would remain? A handful of loud, bitter voices clinging to executions the way insecure men cling to misogyny. People exactly like the author of that pathetic comment, ignorant, sexist, and desperate to feel power they don’t have.
And that’s exactly the problem. These people are no different from the man who beats his dog just to feel powerful. They’re the same type who tailgate on the highway in their oversized pickup, blasting the horn because they think a heavy engine makes them kings of the world. It’s the same pathetic psychology, a craving for dominance, a fake sense of superiority, a rush of control over something weaker. Supporting executions gives them that same cheap high. It’s not about justice. It’s about power, and the illusion of manhood in lives otherwise defined by frustration and mediocrity.
In reality, when they spit out these misogynistic lines, claiming that women abolitionists are “turned on” by murderers or some other recycled stupidity, what they’re really showing is jealousy. Yes, jealousy. They envy the image that society projects onto death row prisoners: hyper-masculine, dangerous, powerful, the ultimate “bad boys.” In their twisted fantasy, every man on death row is some kind of muscle-bound alpha male, dripping with dark charisma. And deep down, they fear that their own wives, if they ever crossed paths with one of these men, would fall at their feet. That’s the insecurity they can’t admit, so they mask it with sexist insults aimed at us.
And that’s the irony, their obsession exposes their own fear. They know they aren’t desired, they know they aren’t respected, so they lash out. They reduce women to sexual objects because it’s the only language their insecurity understands. They paint death row prisoners as irresistible predators because that’s the only way they can justify why women would choose to fight for justice while rejecting men like them. Their nightmare isn’t women loving “killers.” Their nightmare is women seeing through them, their impotence, their mediocrity, their absolute lack of power.
And this is where the parallel becomes obvious. Their defense of the death penalty runs on the very same fuel as their sexist insults: insecurity, jealousy, and a desperate need for control. Supporting state killing gives them the illusion of power, the same way reducing women to sexual objects does. It’s all about domination, over women, over prisoners, over anyone they see as weaker. The death penalty becomes their weapon of choice, not because it delivers justice, but because it props up their fragile egos. They don’t cheer for executions out of principle. They cheer because it makes them feel, for a brief second, like they matter.
This is the truth nobody says out loud: people who cling to the death penalty aren’t defending justice, they’re compensating for their own failures. Every execution is their substitute for manhood. Every death warrant is their way of pretending they have control over a world where they actually have none. They scream about “law and order” while their own lives are small, frustrated, and meaningless. They cheer for the state to kill because deep down they’re powerless, and state violence is the only extension of power they’ll ever feel.
They are like parasites feeding on blood to feel alive. They need death row the way a weak man needs a gun in his hand or a leash around a dog’s neck, without it, they’d be forced to face what they really are: irrelevant, fragile, and utterly forgettable. That’s the psychology of the death penalty supporter. Not courage. Not morality. Just fear, envy, and impotence wrapped in the flag and sold as “justice.”
Because let’s be honest, the death penalty isn’t about crime. It’s about theater. It’s a stage play for insecure men and corrupt politicians who need blood to distract from their own incompetence. They sell the illusion of justice, while hiding the machinery that chews up the poor, the mentally ill, and the broken long before trial ever begins. It’s not “majority rule.” It’s state-sanctioned bullying. It’s legalized sadism for an audience too lazy or too cowardly to look behind the curtain.
And here’s what nobody dares say: executions in America aren’t about punishing the worst of the worst. They’re about punishing the weakest of the weak. No billionaire ends up on death row. No politician’s son is ever strapped to the gurney. It’s always the disposable, the poor kid from the wrong neighborhood, the addict, the abused, the ones the system was already designed to grind down. That’s why the death penalty exists. Not as justice, but as a ritual sacrifice to reassure the mediocre majority that their own failures aren’t the problem.
The gallows, the gurney, the electric chair, they aren’t tools of justice. They’re mirrors. They reflect the fear and impotence of those who defend them, exposing a society too fragile to admit its own sickness.
And that’s the real punchline. Supporting the death penalty means standing shoulder to shoulder with these very people, the insecure men who beat their dogs, who scream from their pickups, who insult women online because it’s the only form of power they’ll ever know. To defend executions is to endorse their cowardice, to validate their misogyny, to say: yes, this is the face of justice in America.
Let’s be clear, when you cheer for the needle, the chair, the straps, you’re not siding with justice. You’re siding with the same bitter, jealous little men who hide behind state violence because they have no strength of their own. You’re siding with people who reduce women to sexual fantasies and reduce justice to bloodlust. You’re siding with the lowest instincts of society, the ones too weak to confront truth, too afraid to confront themselves.
Whether people want to hear it or not, and I have no fear in saying it: there is more loyalty, more courage, more love, and more humanity inside the cages of death row than outside those walls. And no, pointing that out is not glorifying crime. It’s not some cheap fetish for “bad boys.” It’s simply the truth. The men condemned to die, stripped of freedom, abandoned by society, caged like animals, often show more dignity than the politicians who sign their death warrants and the crowd that cheers them on.
The difference is simple: behind those bars, humanity has to fight to survive, so it shines brighter. Outside, in the so-called free world, people trade away their humanity every day for power, for convenience, for the illusion of control. That is why abolitionists see value where others see only death. Not because we are “wetting our panties,” but because we still recognize humanity where others have buried it under fear and hatred.
Let’s cut through the lies. The death penalty has never been about justice it’s about domination. It’s the weapon of men too weak to stand on anything but violence, the refuge of misogynists who mask their envy and resentment by calling it “law and order.” A society that clings to executions is not strong; it is terrified, propping itself up on corpses to hide its own decay.
Abolitionists, especially the women you insult, take this stand not out of fantasy but out of defiance. We are not seduced by killers; we are repulsed by a system that kills in our name. And every time you try to silence us with sexual slurs, you prove exactly why we are needed because truth terrifies you.
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