"The women of Bikini Kill let guitarist Billy Karren be in their feminist punk band, but only if he's willing to just "do some shit." Being a feminist dude is like that. We may ask you to "do some shit" for the band, but you don't get to be Kathleen Hannah."--@heatherurehere


Friday, January 26, 2007

What is it About Men? Part One

In terms of how long I've been alive, I haven't really identified as a feminist for very long. The first inklings of feminist thought really found their way into my life when I first started college, in a communications class that had a section about the different ways that people of different genders might communicate, and the power structures that are built around those different ways. That was over 15 years ago, sure, but that was just the beginning, and I really didn't start to identify as a feminist until about 5 years or so ago.

Once you're given a new lens through which to look at the world, changes in the way you see the world can sometimes explode sort of exponentially. And, once that lens has been used, it's hard to set it down (which is usually a good thing, though it can make hard, and make acquiring other ways of seeing more difficult, too). The understanding that you begin to acquire, especially the part of it that is hindsight, is bittersweet--its often great to see things more practically, but it's just as often hard to feel like a fool (hindsight) or to feel overwhelmed by all of the work to be done.

As I continued looking at things through the lens of gender and inequality, I started to look back at my life-so-far through different lenses, including the lens of gender and power differentials around gender. For instance, I began to see the enormity of the task my mother took on by raising me mostly on her own in a world which pretty much discouraged her from being financially stable as a woman raising her son on her own. I saw her decision to divorce my stepdad in a new light, because I better understood the emotional and financial complexities involved in such a decision. I also began to look at my own relationships with women--friendships and romantic relationships--through new lenses. I better saw that not only was some of my behavior in the past unconscionable, but that the behavior itself was rooted in patriarchy, in mythic masculinity, and in fear brought on by these constants in my life.

As I said, these realizations were often bittersweet. Nice to finally figure things out a bit better, but the truth hurt. One of the hardest realizations was that I had been the boy (and then the man) who had used the privilege ascribed to me to, among other things, bully women. I don't think I was very aware of this while I was doing it, but that of course doesn't right any wrongs or make me feel much better about the wrongs committed.

In general, my expression of priveledge in this regard was having temper tantrums. I see this now as an expression of priveledge because boys and men aren't discouraged, in certain circumstances, from this type of behavior. It's perhaps a cliche in feminist circles, but it's also true that 'boys will be boys' carries an awful lot of cultural weight. Some of the tantrums were big, some of them little. They could vary from muttering under my breath contemptuously, all the way to me punching walls. Once, in an effort to get a girlfriend to continue our conversation (the entirety of that conversation I now see as me just being a bully), I stood in her way, blocking her from leaving. Like badly setting a screen, I knocked her down. Even at the time I knew that what I had done was just pretty much fundamentally wrong, and I am not proud of my actions. It's hard for me to talk about the fact that I did this--I see myself as a 'different person' now, but I recognize that I am responsible for that action, and always will be; I also understand that it's hard to change. There are times when remembering that event, and others (slamming a door on the way out, for instance) drives me to almost despair. And then I think about how poor-little-me that sort of thinking is; if it drives me to despair, imagine how it might affect the people that were the victims of my actions, in the long run. Which, of course, leads to more despair.

To be very clear, because I think that there are a lot of men who make some changes and then want a cookie, I want to say explicitly that I am not interested in 'credit' for not being that person any longer--but I am interested in how I came to change, how I can change more, and how I can encourage other men to make some of the same changes. (In addition, I suppose, I'm always looking for other role models in this regard, because they seem oftentimes to be few, and hard to spot.)

And I'm also interested in understanding the aforementioned despair, in turning past actions into ways of seeing the present and ways of becoming that will keep such things from happening in the future. To sit in despair is one thing, to continue to try to change for the better is a better thing to do, I think. And one way to help prevent such behavior in myself (and then, in turn, to help others make similar changes) is to try to better understand the underlying causes of such behavior. So in the coming weeks I'll be posting about this, trying to answer some of the questions surrounding men, masculinity and various forms of structuralized encouragement toward violence that men who consider themselves feminists (and feminist allies) have to understand in order to change.

I'd also appreciate hearing any suggestions or stories of change from your own lives. Any encouragement toward change and understanding we can give to each other is helpful...

14 comments:

Dave said...

Great post, Jeff. Thank you for sharing this. I found the following passage especially easy to relate to:

"To be very clear, because I think that there are a lot of men who make some changes and then want a cookie, I want to say explicitly that I am not interested in 'credit' for not being that person any longer [...]"

I feel much the same way. When I first started becoming really aware of my privilege and noticing the way gender works, I thought myself quite worthy of praise for rising above the masses. It wasn't until later that I realized I had only gotten up to a baseline of human decency, a plateau from which I could then advance to a state that I might actually be proud of.

Anyway, I think I may do a similar "before feminism" post. If I can get myself to complete any of the half-dozen drafts I have saved :)

Anonymous said...

This has been one of the best posts at Feminist Allies so far - thank you, Jeff.

I've only identified as a feminist for about a year now, but its a been a year of self-reflection and a lot of painful realizations about my own past behavior. This is one of the hardest things for men to discuss- not only personally, but socially - there just aren't many environments that are friendly to listening to men anguish over their own past patriarchal tendencies.

A great writer I enjoy is Robert Jensen. He focuses on race and pornorgraphy, but has one of the deepest understandings of privilege.

Unknown said...

Not that I'm disagreeing with you about the role of gender in the way men have learned to control women, but as I read your personal examples, I was also reading my history. I have tried to prevent boyfriends from leaving a conversation by using physical force or myself as a barrier. Aggression and violence are insidious traits that aren't mutually exclusive to males, although I do see that they are more frowned upon when women display these traits, and more-or-less forgiven or empathized with when men do.

Thank you for this wonderful post.

JusticeForAll said...

I refer to myself a feminist or pro-feminist (I still am not sure over what I should call myself, as the connotations of labels are very important to me) as well.
The interesting part is that I was an anti-racist and supporter of gay rights while maintaining an active anti-feminist position. I think that for a long time I was in denial over the extent of oppression of women in our society.
I had a number of really painful relationships with women around then--nearly all of them had been physically or sexually abused. I think it was the day that I realized that fear of men was severely hampering my relationships with all of those women, and that it really wasn't their fault that they were afraid of me. So I decided to help change the system.
To be honest, it was a pure self-interest move. It took me a little while to also get out of the "what's in it for me" stage, but it was my entry to the world of feminism. And I'm very glad I started that journey, even looking back on how I began it.

Jeff Pollet said...

dave--Thanks for the insights. I think it's tough to both feel proud for progress made and at the same time understand the work to be done is a bit overwhelming, both on a personal level and on a more global level.

Just finish one of the twelve, will you? ;)

Jeff Pollet said...

Andrew--Thanks so much. I think it's good to have a forum where we can talk about the fact that the realizations are painful. When one identifies as a feminist and one is a man, it can be even more difficult and painful, because there is the danger of slipping into various ways of thinking that either aren't helpful or won't seem to be helpful--the 'I deserve a cookie' way of thinking, the 'This pain is more difficult/more important than what women go through' way of thinking, or just 'I feel so freakin' guilty' way of thinking.

Being able to discuss it seems to have helped me, at least, though that, too, is painful.

Anything by Jensen you'd recommend to start with? He's pretty prolific, after a brief googling...

Anonymous said...
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Jeff Pollet said...

Janelle--
I'm not a gender essentialist by any stretch of the imagination, so I'd agree with you that aggression and violence aren't exclusive to men; it's also important, I think, to be reminded of this from time to time. Actually, as a man going through the guilt that 20/20 hindsight can bring, I would say it's even more important than ever for me to remember that.

That said, not only are men more likely to be forgiven for such behavior, I think there are often (not always, but often) other factors at work--if you and I were arguing and you stood in my way, I think I could get past you--not that you're not tall and strong and all of that, but I think I weigh a good 100lbs more than you, some of it muscle. And the fact that men are often (not always, but often) more physically strong than men speaks to the power dynamic. So, when you block the way, it does mean something akin to the what it means when I block the way--but it doesn't mean all of the same things, if you see what I mean.

Jeff Pollet said...

justice--Thank you for your comment. I think self-interest ought to be one of our motives, y'know? That's why people who write about how feminism is (also) good for men can be inspiring to me.

When you say "...and it really wasn't their fault that they were afraid of me," you strike a chord with my experiences. I have close friends who are women who don't open up to me as much as I'd like (in part) because of the abuse in various forms that they've suffered at the hands of other men. And, where some anti-feminists might ignore the institutional nature of such abuse, that just seems to fly in the face of reality, to me.

Thanks again for the comment.

Jeff Pollet said...

Hugo--Thanks. It's always nice to know you're stopping by!

By the way Hugo, if you haven't read bell hooks' The Will to Change, I'd recommend it to you (to read between the seven classes you're teaching). I think she hits on a lot of the same sentiments/conceptual puzzles that you work on.

Jeff Pollet said...

anonymous, I've deleted your comment. If you care to talk about why, feel free to email me.

David Watkins said...

Excellent post. I really should be reading you regularly, rather than occasionally.

In re: avoiding despair about past behavior--I've been dealing with this--with regard to some stuff that happened long after I started identifying as a feminist--the nature and depth of my feminist worldview hasn't really changed, but my self-awareness level has. I find both comfort and discomfort, but not despair, in the thought that "I did the best I could at the time." Comfort, in that this thought prevents pointless self-flagellation, and discomfort, in that it's a sick joke--one that reflects poorly on both me and the cultural milieu in which I swim that THAT really actually the best I could do. But that particular breed of discomfort is more productive than despair. I think.

Unknown said...

I really should be reading you regularly, rather than occasionally.--djw

Well, we really should be posting regularly, rather than occasionally, so that works. Heh.

Thanks for the comment. I think the comparison of despair vs. discomfort is a great one--part of what I feel is that I ought to be feeling discomfort around my past and present abilities to participate in the world in a way that addresses the gendered power dynamics that exist...in part because the gendered power dynamics exist in the unbalanced way that they do. But should I despair about my abilities? Nope. I have improved, and I think others can (and will) improve as well. I will continue to improve, with effort.

So--discomfort more productive than despair seems a good way to think about this stuff.

JusticeForAll said...

Jeff, I agree with you that self-interest should be one of our motives. I'm from the Alinsky school of organizing, which states that self-interest is the most important thing to realize in order to achieve social justice. But it still doesn't mean I feel good about it. And yet, I'm still a big fan of encouraging men to discover their own self-interest in order to realize gender justice. It's a rich and tasty inconsistency, for sure.