“On Gor,” whispered the girl next to me, “I have learned that men and women are not identical.”

“On Gor,” whispered the girl next to me, “I have learned that men and women are not identical.”
“Yes,” I said. I smiled to myself. I knew at least one culture in which this obvious, biological truism would count as political heresy, to be punished by ostracism, slander and, when possible, by economic penalties. What a tragic world and culture that was. How I pitied those who, in order not to jeopardize their careers in an antibiological environment, were forced to subscribe publicly to such doctrines. How rare is courage.
“And men,” she said, “or Gorean men, or men of a Gorean type, are the masters.”
“Yes,” I said.
“And women such as I are their slaves,” she said.

Rogue of Gor, p. 166

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