I have to admit that Kant writes so well as to be immune to criticism, as did Heidegger and Sartre. Simone de Beauvoir, in Second Sex not so much, like you she was apologetic in the sense she wasted her time explaining the contributions of women. Men know what they owe women. Ask any man about his mother. Even if it takes her dying, he realizes her selfless existence, finally. I literally have nothing bad to say about my mother. She never complained about anything, even as she was hoarding, or had fallen on her face on the way to a nanny job because she has stopped her life to raise two children and never could go back to a successful commercial art career, where her boss had raped her, or her uncle before that, and where her mother had to give her up to foster parents because it was in the Depression and her father died when she was two. I get it. You don’t have to tell me and neither does any woman. I know Kant. I spent 46 pages on a poem I tried to write that attempted to include every point her ever made, and to make it poetic and brilliant myself, but his structure and word choices, like Gibbon’s, are just flawless, or at least so well written that to be critical is to appear dumb.