re: re: Orlando
I feel so powerless in the wake of the Orlando Shooting. And as someone who spends a lot of time in women only space, I'm asking how I can be a better ally to the men in my life. I want to better understand what it's like to grow up as male in this culture. What kind of support is needed? What can I provide--as a friend, partner, community member and educator? What are the stuck places that just need to be met with compassion and understanding?
What do I, as a queer woman and feminist, not understand about what it is like for men to grow up and walk through this world? What conversations do we need to have to change our culture of violence?
Leonore, thank you so much for asking in such a kind and thoughtful way. Here are some ideas I've been chewing on...
The patriarchy is specifically about the power of *adult* men. Growing up as a man in this culture means being told to reject anything that is either feminine or "childish". So logic, stoicism, and independence are good; emotion, vulnerability, and relying on others for anything are bad. Women and children, generally, are expected to embrace the latter but seen as inferior to the extent they do so, and gain power only by being more "manly". Part of feminism, then, is getting women to not be seen as inferior (or unladylike) no matter which of these qualities they exhibit, but giving men permission to do the same is usually seen as ancillary. A couple of the effects this has had on my life:
-Being made fun of in elementary/middle school for singing, being emotional, and various other quirks.
-Developing as a result extremely thick skin and not listening to or caring what anyone else thinks. A necessary survival skill in high school, but this same insensitivity led to problems in college - it took me forever to learn that, while *in general* friends accept you for who you are, paying attention to which of your behaviors make people uncomfortable and toning things down a bit, at least around those specific people, can be kind and doesn't have to mean giving up your identity, and I still struggle with that balance.
-Being seen as "mature" partly because in stressful situations I shut down emotionally and get very calm. Helpful when taking criticism (occasionally) or if the building is on fire (never); not helpful if a close friend is upset and wants you to be upset with them (often, as I'm starting to realize).
-I'm famous for my quirky/provocative outfits, and I can get pretty bold in a lot of ways, but even though women have been wearing trousers for a long time, I have to really brace myself and plan for a special occasion if I want to wear a skirt.
-In general, as I'm sure you're well aware, there's a crippling lack of physical and emotional intimacy in most men's lives. A lot of the shitty things men do in relationships or in pursuit thereof are related to desperation because that's the only way they can think of to meet, like, half of their human needs. (Not an excuse, of course, but a cause worth addressing.) I'm a super huggy person - I need, like, several a day to be really happy - but my roommate is less so, so we share a few a week. Then I work with some student clubs, and some of them are interested maybe once every few weeks, but that comes with its own issues around consent - I feel awkward even asking "Hugs?" in that setting, so half the time I just do without. All my reliable sources of touch are distant friends and family I see less often. For emotional conversations the Internet helps, but overall, well, thank God for my cat.
And then if, as a guy, you look around and say "wow, toxic masculinity sucks, let's try feminism instead", that comes with its own issues. Two broad categories include isolation and "ok, we know what we don't want, but what DO we want?"
1. In trying not to be a Nice Guy(tm), I've gone too far the other way and feel like being friends with women requires me to never have (or at least express/act on) any romantic/sexual interest - the only way both parties can trust that I'm not girlfriendzoning someone is for me to mentally take romance totally off the table. This actually works and I've built some solid friendships, but surely there's a healthier way.
2. If we successfully decouple gender from biology and eliminate gender roles (both pretty good projects), then a significant part of my identity loses its linguistic meaning as a category - if everyone chooses their own definition of masculinity, then it's logically equivalent to just identifying as a person. Arguably for the best, but I'll miss the sense of belonging to a group (even a group I'm often unhappy with) and the opportunity to try to reclaim that identity as meaning something specific but positive, rather than eliminating it.
3. Lack of good fictional role models. I polled my FB friends once for examples of dudes courageously choosing to solve their problems not with violence but with kindness, and the first few responses I got were "You are the example." Super touching generally, but not that helpful for the question at hand. (For the record, "The Book of Life" is pretty good.)
4. Lack of well-publicized info about how to help feminism as a guy specifically. Sometimes you need to hear from someone who's done exactly what you're trying to do - but then, dudes telling you how to do feminism right are always a bit suspect without some kind of endorsement or certification or something.
5. Lack of space set aside to talk about how culture affects us and how we should respond as men. Feminist spaces tend to privilege women's voices, as it should be; on some, men are OK too, but no tone policing, no #notallmen derailing, no making people stop and take care of your emotions when they're venting about problems caused by people like you. (For example: you asked, but I'm still worried about speaking up and complaining here.) All reasonable rules, but it means absorbing a *lot* of anger and taking it on the chin and ignoring comments about neckbeards and fedoras and cishet white men and trying not to take stuff personally, realizing it doesn't apply to you - while worrying about which things it's OK to believe don't apply to you, and which ones you're only fooling yourself. Speaking of which...
6. Not constantly educating yourself is shirking your moral duty; constantly reading about terrible things men do leads to guilt and shame and also erodes confidence - if men are really that prone to violence, even ones who seem nice at first because you never know, does that include me? Am I, in fact, a loaded gun? Should anyone trust me, and am I even safe to be around? Signs point to yes, but most people think they're above average drivers; how can I know for sure? (The one time I made the mistake of trying to talk about this publicly [http://hearkensentinel.tumblr.com/post/139250354874/being-a-male-feminist-means-reading-a-lot-of], someone immediately shot me down and I felt awful.)
7. One answer, of course, is for other people to tell me they feel safe around me. That is pretty much my #1 goal in life, and I don't hear it often enough. Part of that is that in our culture overall, we don't say things that emotionally intense out loud. But also, the bar for behavior is set pretty high; even though, y'know, I work hard to be aware of my own privilege and respect people's agency and propagate consent culture, I do sometimes interrupt and talk over people, and on bad days it seems that makes everything else not count. I think it's related to the overall negative tone of SJ in most places: the dominant mode of discourse focuses on pointing out the problematic, micro and macro aggressions. That's important, but if it's not balanced by celebrating progress, the effective message is that you will never be good until you are perfect. (It also makes the big problems we have seem even bigger/insurmountable.) One phrase I've heard a lot: “You don't get a ****ing cookie for meeting (what should be) the bare minimum standard of decent behavior.” OK, that's totally fair and I see where you're coming from... but sometimes I'd really like one anyway, y'know?
Sorry for the wall of text but, well, people usually don't ask. It makes sense that women and NBs shouldn't have to take on the emotional labor of helping men build a culture of nonviolence and constructively talking about our feelings... but until we do, who does that leave?
What do I, as a queer woman and feminist, not understand about what it is like for men to grow up and walk through this world? What conversations do we need to have to change our culture of violence?
Leonore, thank you so much for asking in such a kind and thoughtful way. Here are some ideas I've been chewing on...
The patriarchy is specifically about the power of *adult* men. Growing up as a man in this culture means being told to reject anything that is either feminine or "childish". So logic, stoicism, and independence are good; emotion, vulnerability, and relying on others for anything are bad. Women and children, generally, are expected to embrace the latter but seen as inferior to the extent they do so, and gain power only by being more "manly". Part of feminism, then, is getting women to not be seen as inferior (or unladylike) no matter which of these qualities they exhibit, but giving men permission to do the same is usually seen as ancillary. A couple of the effects this has had on my life:
-Being made fun of in elementary/middle school for singing, being emotional, and various other quirks.
-Developing as a result extremely thick skin and not listening to or caring what anyone else thinks. A necessary survival skill in high school, but this same insensitivity led to problems in college - it took me forever to learn that, while *in general* friends accept you for who you are, paying attention to which of your behaviors make people uncomfortable and toning things down a bit, at least around those specific people, can be kind and doesn't have to mean giving up your identity, and I still struggle with that balance.
-Being seen as "mature" partly because in stressful situations I shut down emotionally and get very calm. Helpful when taking criticism (occasionally) or if the building is on fire (never); not helpful if a close friend is upset and wants you to be upset with them (often, as I'm starting to realize).
-I'm famous for my quirky/provocative outfits, and I can get pretty bold in a lot of ways, but even though women have been wearing trousers for a long time, I have to really brace myself and plan for a special occasion if I want to wear a skirt.
-In general, as I'm sure you're well aware, there's a crippling lack of physical and emotional intimacy in most men's lives. A lot of the shitty things men do in relationships or in pursuit thereof are related to desperation because that's the only way they can think of to meet, like, half of their human needs. (Not an excuse, of course, but a cause worth addressing.) I'm a super huggy person - I need, like, several a day to be really happy - but my roommate is less so, so we share a few a week. Then I work with some student clubs, and some of them are interested maybe once every few weeks, but that comes with its own issues around consent - I feel awkward even asking "Hugs?" in that setting, so half the time I just do without. All my reliable sources of touch are distant friends and family I see less often. For emotional conversations the Internet helps, but overall, well, thank God for my cat.
And then if, as a guy, you look around and say "wow, toxic masculinity sucks, let's try feminism instead", that comes with its own issues. Two broad categories include isolation and "ok, we know what we don't want, but what DO we want?"
1. In trying not to be a Nice Guy(tm), I've gone too far the other way and feel like being friends with women requires me to never have (or at least express/act on) any romantic/sexual interest - the only way both parties can trust that I'm not girlfriendzoning someone is for me to mentally take romance totally off the table. This actually works and I've built some solid friendships, but surely there's a healthier way.
2. If we successfully decouple gender from biology and eliminate gender roles (both pretty good projects), then a significant part of my identity loses its linguistic meaning as a category - if everyone chooses their own definition of masculinity, then it's logically equivalent to just identifying as a person. Arguably for the best, but I'll miss the sense of belonging to a group (even a group I'm often unhappy with) and the opportunity to try to reclaim that identity as meaning something specific but positive, rather than eliminating it.
3. Lack of good fictional role models. I polled my FB friends once for examples of dudes courageously choosing to solve their problems not with violence but with kindness, and the first few responses I got were "You are the example." Super touching generally, but not that helpful for the question at hand. (For the record, "The Book of Life" is pretty good.)
4. Lack of well-publicized info about how to help feminism as a guy specifically. Sometimes you need to hear from someone who's done exactly what you're trying to do - but then, dudes telling you how to do feminism right are always a bit suspect without some kind of endorsement or certification or something.
5. Lack of space set aside to talk about how culture affects us and how we should respond as men. Feminist spaces tend to privilege women's voices, as it should be; on some, men are OK too, but no tone policing, no #notallmen derailing, no making people stop and take care of your emotions when they're venting about problems caused by people like you. (For example: you asked, but I'm still worried about speaking up and complaining here.) All reasonable rules, but it means absorbing a *lot* of anger and taking it on the chin and ignoring comments about neckbeards and fedoras and cishet white men and trying not to take stuff personally, realizing it doesn't apply to you - while worrying about which things it's OK to believe don't apply to you, and which ones you're only fooling yourself. Speaking of which...
6. Not constantly educating yourself is shirking your moral duty; constantly reading about terrible things men do leads to guilt and shame and also erodes confidence - if men are really that prone to violence, even ones who seem nice at first because you never know, does that include me? Am I, in fact, a loaded gun? Should anyone trust me, and am I even safe to be around? Signs point to yes, but most people think they're above average drivers; how can I know for sure? (The one time I made the mistake of trying to talk about this publicly [http://hearkensentinel.tumblr.com/post/139250354874/being-a-male-feminist-means-reading-a-lot-of], someone immediately shot me down and I felt awful.)
7. One answer, of course, is for other people to tell me they feel safe around me. That is pretty much my #1 goal in life, and I don't hear it often enough. Part of that is that in our culture overall, we don't say things that emotionally intense out loud. But also, the bar for behavior is set pretty high; even though, y'know, I work hard to be aware of my own privilege and respect people's agency and propagate consent culture, I do sometimes interrupt and talk over people, and on bad days it seems that makes everything else not count. I think it's related to the overall negative tone of SJ in most places: the dominant mode of discourse focuses on pointing out the problematic, micro and macro aggressions. That's important, but if it's not balanced by celebrating progress, the effective message is that you will never be good until you are perfect. (It also makes the big problems we have seem even bigger/insurmountable.) One phrase I've heard a lot: “You don't get a ****ing cookie for meeting (what should be) the bare minimum standard of decent behavior.” OK, that's totally fair and I see where you're coming from... but sometimes I'd really like one anyway, y'know?
Sorry for the wall of text but, well, people usually don't ask. It makes sense that women and NBs shouldn't have to take on the emotional labor of helping men build a culture of nonviolence and constructively talking about our feelings... but until we do, who does that leave?