My Obsession with Helping Other Women

I always had a savior complex, but where does it go now that I’m in a stable relationship?

Being in a stable relationship with my partner is one of the best things that has ever happened to me, ngl. Our relationship started off strong right from the beginning. No lying, no dumping former partners so we could “transition smoothly,” no instantly moving in together. No roster, no waiting until he finally texts back.

If I had one word to describe our relationship, it would be: I wish I had met him five years prior, but that’s a whole sentence. He’s not only beautiful, he also exemplifies a trait far less common in men: genuine character. He supports my activism, helps me with bureaucracy, and is sitting in the front row when I’m performing as my biggest fan and supporter. I’m not writing this to have you applaud him; I’m writing this to establish the bare minimum a woman should accept.

Anyhow, privilege comes with responsibility.

At least, that’s what I’ve been thinking since I’m in my thirties and experiencing a whole other reality than I knew in my twenties. I simply don’t have to worry anymore, except… for other women.

Other women I still see struggling online, publishing horrific prose about their “twin flames”. Idk, Megan Fox? Or have you heard about Mia Goth, who had a baby with her abuser—whose ex, FKA twigs, sued him for domestic violence?

Just because “your front” is safe doesn’t mean the world is a safer place for all women. So shouldn’t we—especially women in privileged types of relationships—do something about the women society, trauma, and co-dependent relationships have left behind? Or do we interfere in matters that are … none of our business?

Let’s dive into it by showcasing a rather abstract note I posted a couple of days ago.

I was in this very awkward position of knowing something about a male person that his baby mama obviously did not know. I wish I didn’t have that information—I didn’t ask for it.

But once I found out by accident, all of these sentences that I’d heard come out of his mouth were at the front of my mind. No matter what I did, I couldn’t shake those words. They echoed in my head, replaying over and over.

And I kept wondering—if she had heard them herself, would she still have believed that having a baby with him was the right choice? Would she have seen him differently, questioned everything, or would she have justified it somehow, the way so many women do when they’re already in too deep? When they love too much?

I was very upset because I felt for her. And I also felt for me.

I basically felt for every woman who ever was with a guy who didn’t deserve her (so: all women, lol).

As I was thinking about the right thing to do, I consulted my friends. Most of my female friends said the ship had kinda sailed. That it was too late now since she had reproduced with this scum of a man, and there was nothing a simple message of mine could change about the situation.

The thing is, they were right. Most probably.

Knowing this also left me frustrated—not just because I felt powerless to change anything, but because it made me question whether speaking up ever really makes a difference. Does timing matter more than truth? Are we supposed to just sit back and watch other women walk into situations we know will hurt them in the long run, simply because it's “too late” to warn them?

Others warned me that speaking up would only backfire—that I’d be labeled a jealous bitch, dismissed as bitter, and dragged through the mud for daring to say anything at all.

So after consulting multiple people, I had two outcomes:

• a) she would get the information, and nothing would change.

• b) Or, she would get the information, not believe me, and hate me.

Wow. These two outcomes hurt like hell. It’s 2025, and that’s still all we are thinking about? The way we are being perceived while doing the right thing in telling other women what their men are about? Honestly, it makes me kinda mad.

Did the advice I received actually help anyone but the abuser? Or was I really going too far in whistleblowing this information? Would I ruin someone’s psyche for days or weeks just because my truth needed to get out of my brain?

I was thinking about all the women who had stayed with their abusers despite knowing. I had to think about my grandmother #1, who not only suffered severe physical abuse but also got cheated on her whole life—and stayed. I had to think about my grandmother #2, who “just” got cheated on her entire life, since day one after her wedding, yet loved her children and was still kinda happy in this fake-ass marriage. Because, after all, she also got me and my cousins. Still, it’s hard for me to shift perspective and see this as a valid life option in this day and age.

Which got me to a whole other question: Are there actually women out there who simply accept being a second choice, the mother of his children, and settle with this role?

And, because this way of living simply isn’t for me, I therefore can’t understand it? Is the feminist thing to do, then, to leave her alone? Because she chose so?

Or isn’t this the epitome of choice feminism, where everything a woman does or chooses is inherently feminist?

So many questions, so little answers. And then, I saw this answer to my question.

It’s also the same answer I would have given. I would, personally, absolutely want to know. I don’t want to be the woman who’s marrying or having kids with someone who obviously disrespects me. Even if it was 18 months ago—that shit stays. Words cannot be taken back, neither can disrespect.

Do you actually believe that a man who was capable of saying those words about his soon-to-be baby mama has changed? Are we still this naïve?

I f*cking hate our culture, where lying and fake-ass men get chance after chance after chance without ever suffering consequences. No, quite the opposite: There will always be a woman who’s happy to keep up with his bullshit and even provide him with shelter and status. See: Mia Goth, Melania Trump, Sarah Jessica Parker, Victoria Beckham. It’s embarrassing for womanhood, if you ask me.

So, what do I think is the feminist thing to do now?

The answer is quite easy, honestly. The feminist thing to do is what you would want to happen in a situation like that. If you would want to know, if you wouldn’t want to build a life on lies—go, tell the other woman, and give her all the information you have.

But—and there definitely is a but—we shouldn’t expect instant gratification, a “thank you,” or any acknowledgment at all. The reality is that we live in a patriarchy that actively pits women against each other. This system encourages competition and division, even among those who should be allies.

As a result, when we speak out, particularly when we share uncomfortable truths, we often become targets, because we are expected to be people-pleasers and maintain harmony.

Women who challenge the status quo or speak openly are at risk of being vilified, sometimes even more harshly than their male counterparts. Instead of solidarity, women may shoot the messenger, perceiving truth as a threat to their own position within the system. This can escalate into hate campaigns, where the focus shifts from the message itself to discrediting the speaker.

I mean, anyone remember Selling Sunset Season 8, where Chelsea got so mad at Bre she thought the whole thing about exposing her cheating husband was a conspiracy theory? Well, I do remember.

But I also remember that, in the end, Chelsea got a divorce. So, the feminist thing to do definitely was to tell Chelsea so she could make her own decisions. Isn’t that what feminism is all about? Having the missing knowledge to make informed decisions about your life and move on, if considered necessary?

So, there are only two possible outcomes: A woman is leaving, or a woman is staying—despite having the information.

If a woman is staying, I’m staying the hell away from all of that. Forever.
I cannot save everyone, I tell myself. I’m not a fucking charity. I cannot care forever, until I’m so full of resentment and anger that I cannot live my own, beautiful life.

How have your experiences been when telling other women? What’s the feminist thing to do?