Mean Girls, Part III: A Guy Walks Into a Bar

When I first started teaching, I used to ask my students if any of them were feminists. I'd get a few tentative hands, usually from angry-looking young women with short hair. I'd then ask who believed that women deserve the same pay, opportunities, and rights as men. All the hands would go up. I would smile wisely at my students and tell them that they were all feminists. I'd point out that the things I'd mentioned--equal pay, the right to own property, equal opportunities--were the essential tenets of feminism.

My students liked me, so they tried to be kind. They gently pointed out that feminism was the bastion of women in overalls with ugly haircuts and uglier shoes. Feminism was the rallying-cry of the man-hater, the supremacist, the bigot. Clearly, I was behind the times.

I, in turn taught them that what they were talking about was radical feminism, but that mainstream feminism was merely a push for equal rights. I think I swayed a few students, but most of us had to agree to disagree.

Over the years, my dedication to equal rights has grown stronger, but I have stopped teaching this lesson, largely because I think that my students might have been right. I think that the popular conversation regarding feminism has been co-opted by a radical feminist outlook. The goal of the women's movement no longer seems to be parity between the sexes, but rather primacy for women. Everywhere I turn, I see feminists making claims to moral, intellectual, and spiritual superiority. In other words, feminism has become exactly what my students claimed it was: an anti-male movement.

The saddest thing about this process is that the original goals of feminism have not yet been realized, and the battle for equal rights is far from over. There are still dinosaurs who believe that a women's place is in the home and that childbirth is punishment for original sin. More important, the literal enslavement of women is on the rise, with the sex trade kidnapping thousands of women every year, and the brutal treatment of women under fundamentalist Islam is horrifying. However, rather than mount a concerted attack on worldwide brutality against women, I see the women's movement in the United States wasting its energy by taking cheap potshots against men. On the rare occasions that it addresses the larger issue of female abuse and slavery, the primary goal seems to be to draw connections between women under burquas and women who feel insulted in the workplace.

Many contemporary feminists seem bent on becoming exactly the caricature that their conservative critics paint: shrill, humorless, sexist chauvinists with a cruel agenda. In the meantime, I have had to seriously reconsider my identity as a "feminist." If the feminist movement has become frankly anti-male, than any "feminist" male is, de facto, a traitor to his gender and himself. Now, I think that people, regardless of gender, deserve the same rights, and I refuse to prioritize one gender's needs over another's. Under the current situation, I think that makes me a "humanist."

Every so often, I think about Valerie Solanas. Best known for her attempted assassination of Andy Warhol, she was also the author of the infamous SCUM Manifesto. Largely ignored at the time of its creation, the SCUM Manifesto has become revered in some circles as a classic radical feminist tract. I see it as the most cartoonishly over-the-top anti-male statement ever committed to paper.

It is probably worth noting that "SCUM" stands for "Society for Cutting Up Men."

One of the key arguments in the SCUM Manifesto is the idea that men are genetically inferior to women:"The male is an incomplete female, a walking abortion, aborted at the gene stage. To be male is to be deficient, emotionally limited; maleness is a deficiency disease and males are emotional cripples."

This idea doesn't seem so radical anymore. In fact, I found it echoed in a couple of jokes floating around the internet:

What do men and sperm have in common?
They both have a one-in-a-million chance of becoming a human being.

What is that insensitive bit at the base of the penis called?
The man.


Solanas amplifies her argument that men are emotionally stunted sex maniacs, stating that "The male is [...] incapable of love, friendship, affection or tenderness[...]The male is, nonetheless, obsessed with screwing; he'll swim through a river of snot, wade nostril-deep through a mile of vomit, if he thinks there'll be a friendly pussy awaiting him. He'll screw a woman he despises, any snaggle-toothed hag, and furthermore, pay for the opportunity. Why? Relieving physical tension isn't the answer, as masturbation suffices for that. It's not ego satisfaction; that doesn't explain screwing corpses and babies."

Of course, one doesn't have to go far to see this vision of the romantically-challenged, bestial, sex-crazed man echoed in popular culture. Here are some jokes that make the same point:

What's a man's definition of a romantic evening?
Sex.

A woman of 35 thinks of having children. What does a man of 35 think of?
Dating children.

Why did the man cross the road?
He heard the chicken was a slut.


Solanas proceeds to argue that men are actually sub-human: "[The male] is a half-dead, unresponsive lump, incapable of giving or receiving pleasure or happiness; consequently, he is at best an utter bore, an inoffensive blob, since only those capable of absorption in others can be charming. He is trapped in a twilight zone halfway between humans and apes..."

This idea, too, is echoed in popular culture:

What do you call a man with half a brain?
Gifted.

What's the difference between a new husband and a new dog?
A dog only takes a couple of months to train


One might wonder if, in Solanas' view, there are any good men. Actually, there are: "SCUM will kill all men who are not in the Men's Auxiliary of SCUM. Men in the Men's Auxiliary are those men who are working diligently to eliminate themselves, men who, regardless of their motives, do good, men who are playing pal with SCUM. A few examples of the men in the Men's Auxiliary are [...]faggots who, by their shimmering, flaming example, encourage other men to de-man themselves and thereby make themselves relatively inoffensive...

Of course, culture seems to agree:

Why is it so hard for women to find men that are sensitive, caring, and good-looking?
Because they already have boyfriends.


Solanas is kind enough to suggest a course of action for ridding the world of this menace: "Just as humans have a prior right to existence over dogs by virtue of being more highly evolved and having a superior consciousness, so women have a prior right to existence over men. The elimination of any male is, therefore, a righteous and good act, an act highly beneficial to women as well as an act of mercy.

Even this bizarre and brutal "final solution" has its echoes in contemporary humor:

How can you tell when a man is well hung?
When you can just barely slip your finger in between his neck and the noose.

How do you save a man from drowning?
Take your foot off his head.

What do you call a handcuffed man?
Trustworthy.


Perhaps I'm just being oversensitive, but it seems to me that one can only read so many of these jokes before the message becomes clear: all men are stupid, insensitive potential rapists. All men are guilty until proven innocent. The really funny thing is that these jokes didn't come from a Valerie Solanas fan site or a radical feminist blog. Rather, I found them with a simple google search for "men jokes." Once upon a time, one could be reasonably sure that brutally anti-male humor was the limited purview of a few half-crazed radicals on the outer fringes of society. Now, it seems like one sees it everywhere.

In Spreading Misandry, Paul Nathanson and Katherine Young outline six forms of misandry that are becoming prevalent in American culture. I'm not interested in rehashing all of them, but one form is male-bashing humor. Another is the common assumption that men have it easier, or are somehow cheating women.

I got a feel for this recently. Jean works across the hall from me. She's a nice person, if a little too quick to assign blame to white men. Still, we get along well. A few days ago, she told me that I looked thinner and asked me if I'd lost weight. I thanked her for noticing and mentioned that I've lost fifteen pounds this year. Her immediate response was to tell me that "You men have it so easy. All you have to do is exercise a little, and the weight drops right off."

Thinking of the hours I've spent in the gym and on a treadmill, the massive changes I've made in my diet, the gallons of water I've guzzled, I smiled and told her "Well, if women could restrain themselves, they might lose weight, but you girls are incapable of even the slightest amount of self-control."

Okay, I didn't really say that. What I really did was smile and went back to my office. I restrained myself for three reasons:

1. The comment would have been rude and mean-spirited; as much as I can be an asshole from time to time, I try to be a nice asshole.

2. The comment would have been untrue, and I'm smart enough to know that broad generalizations are unfair and unproductive.

And the real kicker:

3. You can't fight misandry with misogyny. Or, to put it another way, you can't hope to conquer prejudice with more prejudice.

Number three seems like a pretty simple equation. I'm surprised that it's so hard for people to understand.

Gotta Love the Kiddies

Once again, The Week is to blame for getting me in a really bad mood.

On December 15, they quoted an article by Boris Johnson, a Minister of Parliament and occasional columnist for The Telegraph newspaper. Apparently, Johnson was stuck next to two bratty kids on a trip to India when a stewardess politely asked him to follow her to another seat. Excited, Johnson prepared to leave, eagerly anticipating an upgrade and a little peace and quiet. However, as the stewardess soon pointed out, they were merely moving him to another row, as British Airways has "very strict rules" about allowing adult males to accompany children on flights. After all, adult males are sexual predators, and we can't allow them to do anything with children unless they're accompanied by a woman. Still, Johnson, thought, it would be nice to get a little peace and quiet, so he prepared to follow the stewardess.

The whole thing fell through when one of the kids told the stewardess "But he's our father!"

My initial response to this situation was to fall out of my chair, laughing. To begin with, we have a father trying to escape his kids and being thwarted at the last minute by the little monsters. And then, of course, there's the fact that the English, in their gratingly polite way, can sometimes be a little overly sensitive. I mean, really, who wanders through a plane making sure that children aren't seated next to unattended men?

Finally, of course, who wouldn't want a little more peace and quiet on a long flight?

But, ultimately, this isn't really that funny. First off, the fact that society increasingly seems to view men as presumptive sexual predators, without any corroborating evidence, is terrifying. And, as much as we might chalk this up to silly English paranoia, is it really different from the message that every university sends out to female students during orientation?

True story: I once found myself hanging out with a girl who was dating a friend of mine. She and I had drank a couple of beers, and she was telling me about the problems with her relationship. From his perspective, the problem was that he couldn't trust her. From her perspective, the problem was that she had been raped twice, and he hadn't been supportive.

My initial response was to despise my friend. A surprisingly large number of the women I dated in my youth were survivors of rape, and I personally advocate castration and disembowelment as a punishment for rapists. I am only slightly more generously inclined toward men who date rape survivors. As far as I'm concerned, if you date a girl who has been raped, it's your absolute responsibility to introduce her, as gently as possible, to the world of sweet, consensual lovin'. Any failure to do so, and you're the scum of the earth.

However, as I soon discovered, I only had half the story. I was a little disturbed by how cavalierly the woman discussed her rapes. In my experience, this information is usually imparted somberly, with a great deal of reticence. She told me about it as she leaned back, sipping her beer. Something wasn't quite kosher. When I asked her for further information, she told me that both her rapes had occurred at social occasions. After a little more discussion, the truth came clear: she had engaged in consensual intercourse after drinking beer. Later, she had decided that her actions, which most of us would call "cheating on her boyfriend," had actually been rape.

Shortly after telling me this, she finished her beer.

A few minutes later, she told me that she'd always thought I was hot.

Not long after that, I showed her to the door.

I have three sisters, a daughter, and a wife; no one has to tell me that there are bad men out there. Although we've been fortunate overall, there have been enough little disasters for me to realize that bad things happen to people, and that, all too often, evil men make these things happen. However, this notion that men are fundamentally oppressors and women are fundamentally victims is absolutely wrong. Not only does it ignore the basic decency of the vast majority of men, but it is also supremely misogynistic; it denies the evil that women possess and robs them of their endless potential. As a true feminist, I respect the ability of women to do everything that men do. Including rape, murder, child molestation, treason, military service, and welding.

God, I loved Flashdance.

Finally Done!

Today I finally finished grading. At the end of the semester, my students submitted over 1000 pages of writing. Most of it was pretty good, if I do say so myself, but I'm glad it's over. My head feels like I broke something, and my brain's rolling around like a marble.

It's good to be done.

Thank you to everyone who sent me a note while I was finishing off the semester; I can't tell you how much those little comments added up.

At the end of the semester, I camp out in my office, where I grade like a madman. As my students come in to drop off their papers, I take advantage of the distractions and have little talks with some of them. A lot of my kids just want to say goodbye, and reminisce over the semester, but some of them really want to have serious conversations.

One of my kids, who's been a little prickly all semester, decided that she wanted to have a serious discussion with me. The woman in question is in her early twenties, and is a local, which is a somewhat sensitive subject. While she realizes that Southwest Virginia is a little backward in its attitudes, she has a protective attitude towards it. It's like her retarded little brother--she makes fun of it, but gets a little upset if outsiders attack it. I can understand this, as I'm the same way.

In the course of our discussion, she told me, with granite-faced gravitas, that she's a feminist. She said this as if it was a revelation, or an admission of a lifelong vocation. I neglected to tell her that I, too, am a feminist, because I wanted to hear what she had to say on the matter. As we kept talking, I realized that my student's definition of feminism was pretty much your standard, college undergraduate, "women have been victimized for thousands of years and now it's your turn, buddy" defensive misandrony.


I treaded carefully for a few reasons. First of all, I have found that the sufferers of this particular delusion tend to be like sleepwalkers; if they awaken too quickly, permanent damage might ensue. Also, they often seem threatened by open discussion of their perspective, and react with defensiveness and lawsuits. So, anyway, I listened to my student list the same endless, ragged list of man's crimes against women. Foot binding? Check. Uncomfortable undergarments? Check. Domestic slavery? Check. Legal restrictions? Check.

Never mind that my student had never met a foot-bound, corset-wearing, housewife who had been legally raped.

(Of course, I'm only guessing that this is true. I thought about asking her if she had been foot-bound, or wore a corset, but decided that it would be in poor taste, and might be interpreted as a come-on. Besides, as she was blonde, blue-eyed, and had a southern accent, I thought the foot-binding thing was very unlikely. Also, she was wearing sneakers.)

In short, my student had internalized what a friend of mine calls "victimization trumping." This is the idea that one's value is dependent upon the degree to which he or she may claim victim status. Thus, a woman is more valuable than a man. Similarly, a gay person would be more valuable than a straight person, and a "person of color" would be more valuable than an albino. A non-christian gets more points than a Christian, and an amputee is be more valuable than a person with all his or her limbs.

Of course, in this particular perspective, a one-armed, one-legged, single, pregnant, african-american lesbian who worships Zoroaster would be the ultimate winner. She would have total bragging rights, and would reign victorious over her minions. At the very least, she could anticipate numerous offers for tenure-track positions at universities across the country.

Lest you think I'm joking...well, I am. But only a little.

Anyway, to my student's credit, she was willing to discuss these prejudices with me. She even laughed a little when I told her my personal solution to the prejudice problems of our society. I told her that prejudice will be solved when I am free to despise a woman, a gay person, or a person of color without reference to his or her gender, race, or sexual preference. Part of this, of course, is that gender, race, and sexual preference couldn't be used as a defense by the person in question.


I think the test case on this one is Condoleeza Rice. If I was free to hate Condi for her politics and her moral lassitude, without reference to her gender, race, or presumptive lesbianism, we'd be halfway there. If none of these three elements could be used to justify or explain away her moral failings, then the end of prejudice would be in sight.

I hope we get there within my lifetime.