There was a time when I was unhappily single and searching for a male partner. During that time I often felt rage towards every man who turned me down, no matter how polite he was about rejecting me. So I ranted about them. I covered up my body in loose clothing from neck to toe and even wore a hijab sometimes, because I felt they had not earned the right to see my body. (I am not muslim.) I usually rebuffed their requests for friendship. I hung out in female-only spaces. But I never considered shooting down men to punish them for not liking me. I didn’t even curse them out for their rejection; I politely and completely withdrew from their lives, and often from the lives of the other men around me as much as I could. I had the right to be angry, but I never believed I had the right to take their lives. And I was living with mental illness.
People who think they have a right to take someone’s life are from an entirely different planet from me, a planet I have no desire to visit.