Sorry but it probably happened this way
Once there was and once there was not a very gullible woman and a group of oppressive men.
The woman was beautiful and strong. She didn’t know she was strong, though. She didn’t realize she had power that threatened some of the men around her and that she needed to protect her power.
There was a particular man she was attracted to and the feeling was mutual. Deep, deep inside the man was afraid of her though. He wanted her but he didn’t want to have her unless he could strip her of her power.
One of the things that made her powerful was the way she moved. She walked and her body flowed like water; fluid and graceful. She ran fast and strong like a cheetah and beautiful like a horse with its mane flying. She danced like dolphins playing on waves.
The man lay in bed at night scheming how to take her power so that he could have her without risk. What if walking caused her pain? What if running were hard for her? What if dancing wasn’t fun? How could he make that happen?
He went to sleep, dreaming of the woman, weak and at his mercy. He woke up with a plan.
The next time he saw her, he gave her a present; new shoes. He had them made especially for her. She looked at him, puzzled. There was a tall, pointy thing coming off of the heel. “How can I walk in these?” She asked. “How can I run fast? How can I dance?”
The man told her that he had seen her on tiptoes reaching for something and it made her legs look sexier than when her feet were flat. She didn’t believe him. She told him he was crazy.
He called other men over and they immediately got it. In those shoes women would be weaker. Easier to oppress. They all oohed and aahed. They all told the woman how beautiful she would be in the shoes and how much sexier her legs looked if she stayed up on tiptoes.
Other women gathered around and heard what the men were saying. Soon the shoemaker was rich. Soon the women were weaker because their bodies were no longer carefree when they walked. They couldn’t fun fast or as far in the shoes. They had to pretend to enjoy dancing. They had to drink more alcohol to enjoy dancing, making them even weaker.
Almost all the men were happy. Only a few of them saw the weakened women as less than they could have been and oppressed.
Time passed with women teaching their daughters to believe the lie that their legs were sexier when they were on tiptoes, men teaching their sons to believe the lie that a woman's legs were sexier when they stood up on tiptoes.
And all because no one told the original man who told the original lie that he was a dirty-rotten liar. And a despicable asshole.
Soon the lie was perceived by the culture as truth.
Once there was and once there was not a woman who refused to wear high-heeled shoes. She didn’t believe her legs were sexy when she was on her tiptoes. She felt sexy when she was strong. Her legs felt sexy when she walked carefree without the constraint of shoes that kept her up on her toes. Her legs felt attractive when she ran fast and far. Her legs felt desirable when she danced barefoot and free.
The high-heeled shoes looked hideously ugly to her because they symbolized the attempts of men to oppress her and restrain her movements and freedom. She knew men who wanted her to wear them were weak, fearful and full of shit. She taught her daughters to recognize the lies for what they were. She taught her grandchildren to recognize the lies for what they were.
She wrote a fairy tale and put it up on her blog because she grew weary of hearing otherwise intelligent women repeat the lies.
Once there was and once there was not an original man who told the original lie. He was long dead. He died a slow, painful, suffering death from endless cramps in his feet and legs.