When the Feminist Calls for Her Husband

There are moments when an entire ideology reveals itself in a single sentence.

Or, in this case, seven words.

Earlier this year, I asked Church House Publishing for an advance copy of Martha Tatarnic’s book on Anne Boleyn. They sent it. I read it. I reviewed it publicly. I took the work seriously. I treated it as serious theological writing, not as disposable church content.

I also offered Martha the opportunity to respond.

She declined.

That was her right.

Nobody owes me a response. Writers are busy. Clergy are busy. People choose where to spend their energy.

But then something else happened.

A month later, Martha made public statements about Michael Jackson and childhood sexual abuse that I found presumptuous, racially loaded, and incendiary. I said so publicly.

She continued.

So did I.

That is how public discourse works.

When people make public claims about race, abuse, celebrity, morality, and cancellation, those claims are open to public challenge. If your theology, feminism, racial analysis, or moral authority cannot survive scrutiny, then maybe the problem is not the scrutiny.

Maybe the problem is the authority.

What happened next was fascinating.

Martha did not answer the substance. She did not defend the argument. She did not clarify the racial assumptions. She did not explain why her framing deserved to stand.

Instead, her husband appeared.

Seven words:

“David Ian Giffen. You are excruciatingly arrogant.”

That was it.

Not an argument.

Not evidence.

Not a correction.

Not a defence of his wife’s position.

A husband stepping into the public square to discipline the man who had challenged her.

And forgive me, but I thought feminism had moved us past this.

I thought the point was that women in public leadership could speak for themselves. I thought the point was that feminist clergy, writers, and public theologians did not need male protection to survive criticism. I thought the point was that authority could be challenged without retreating into domestic hierarchy.

Apparently not.

Because when the feminist would not answer the criticism, her husband did.

And what did he offer?

Not substance.

Status enforcement.

The critic is named. The tone is condemned. The hierarchy is restored.

This is what happens when feminism becomes branding instead of courage. It keeps the language of liberation, but when pressure comes, it reaches for one of the oldest protection structures in the book.

A man.

Not to deepen the conversation.

To shut it down.

That is not feminism.

That is patriarchy with better lighting.

And no, I am not intimidated by it.

If Martha wants to answer the argument, she can answer it. If her husband wants to enter the debate, he can bring an argument next time.

But “you are excruciatingly arrogant” is not a rebuttal.

It is a confession.

The substance was too dangerous to touch.

So here we are.

The feminist called for her husband.

And Rome, somehow, looks less medieval by the minute.