Showing posts with label Masculinity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Masculinity. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

Manliness is Not Next to Helplessness



Pinpointing the exact reason for my hesitation to claim the title of "Men's Rights Activist" or a member of the Men's Rights Movement has been a tricky subject for me.

The movement for men is a collection of men (like myself) many of whom have been brought up to think that "real men" are never helpless. We are DO-ERS. We GET SHIT DONE, SON.
In general, our ultimate goals are the same. I'd like to see a world where traditional male gender roles aren't the only option for those born with a penis. I'd like to see a world where people who naturally grow facial hair aren't expected to be violent. I'd like to see a world where persons with testicles aren't seen as the only perpetrators of crimes.

But still, something keeps me from waving the high flag of Men's Rights - and I think today I had a breakthrough.

One thing that nearly every single male MRA has experienced is what it's like to grow up in a culture where men are expected to be Men you know, a Man's Man. A Manly Man or a MAN.

Thanks to Feminism (no, really, THANKS!) women are feeling less and less pressure to be "Woman's Woman" or "A Womanly Woman" or "WOMAN." Gender flexibility for women is increasingly prevalent and that's a good thing for women AND men.

No thanks to Feminism (No, really, NO THANKS) men are still being told by each other and many, many women that they still need to be MEN.

The result is the mentality that a man who cannot act upon his surroundings is no man. This is Male Potency - and it is one of the core attributes of what it means to be a man.  Without it, we are impotent, pitiful, and even comical.  Barney Fife. 

For all our screaming and yelling – a habitual inability to affect any change is pitiable and unmanly. We don’t want to be Barney Fife – we want to be Andy Griffith.

Cool, calm, collected - but authoritative, effective and respected.
This hidden psychology is creating problems for men in the MRM, where they are drawn towards concrete issues with concrete solutions rather than the more intangible work of swaying cultural perceptions and overall societal biases.

If we do a quick run-down of the more concrete, policy-based issues that MRAs are concerned about, it might look something like this:
  • Military draft only applies to men
  • In custody disputes, women are considered default care providers
  • False Rape Accusations unfairly target men (and are hard to defend against if the accusation reaches the criminal court level)
  • Male adult victims of DV/rape/sexual abuse have essentially zero support resources
  • Sentencing disparities for crimes committed by men vs. women (doubly so for sex crimes)
  • Lack of parenthood choice for men - (Men's options for fatherhood end at conception, women may use Plan B, abortion or adoption)
And the following is a list of the cultural perceptions and societal biases that the MRM would like to overthrow:
  • Men being seen as the "expendable" sex
  • Men incapable of being "victims"
  • Men unable to control their sex drive - leading them to cheat/rape
  • Men being dirty
  • Men unable to "nurture"
  • Men being violent by nature

It’s not that the second list is unimportant.  In fact, many of those general concerns are folded into the aforementioned issues - the ways that men are stereotyped relates directly to the policies and stigmas that men face in the first category.  It’s just that we can’t directly fight against bias in the same direct way that we can fight for policy change.

This situation creates a whole new level of complexity when viewed through the lens of "Male Potency." Like any movement in its infancy, MRM must pick its fights in order to avoid the pitfalls of early defeat.

With that in mind, if you look back up at the issues men are facing - you'll see a problem.
All of the problems in the first category involve solutions that have the potential to harm women or children, though indirectly. If the amount of money being given to DV survivors is zero-sum, supporting men will mean taking support from women. If men are given an option to default "out" of parenthood, more children may be raised without child support. If we change the standard of proof for False Rape Accusations, rapists could go free and rape survivors could be wrongly charged with a crime.

Those are all bad things. But as it stands, MRAs are faced with the cruel reality that those issues are the only ones they are capable of changing.

So, the MRM faces a dilemma.  In choosing its battles, will the MRM choose to tackle issues where satisfying, concrete change is possible, or will the MRM choose to tackle the more intangible, less directly actionable issues of public perception and stereotypes?

The first category allows men to feel potent and effective in directly tackling a problem with a face and a name, and seeing progress in ways which can be measured and quantified.  But, it comes with the consequence of damaging the movement’s reputation when our actions are incorrectly interpreted as a battle against women and children. Sometimes Feminists may make this interpretation. Sometimes gender-inequality non-Feminists may make this interpretation - but either way it creates a Public Relations nightmare for our cause.

The second category would avoid that problem, as we are reaching out to create awareness and appeal to the empathy of others through outreach efforts.  But it feels less satisfying, as change in public perception is so slow and so difficult to see or measure.  You can’t really tell if anything you are doing is making any difference at all, and the efforts we launch now are likely to not come to fruition within our lifetimes. This is difficult for men who need action and want to feel empowered to create tangible change.

And I believe it is for this reason that the MRM has focused on policy changes and legislative action.  It’s tangible, progress can be measured, and it is concrete.  It isn’t that men don’t care about public perception - I'll bet most men would prefer a world where men aren't seen as "expendable" or "dirty." But how do we do that? You can't pass legislation to change public perception. Feminism has shown us that stereotypes and public opinion take decades, even centuries, to change — especially when the roots of such ideas are at the very heart of Western Culture. So instead, it’s that the MRM is drawn towards issues where concrete, effective change is possible, and can potentially be achieved quickly.

This focus is understandable, particularly for a group whose needs have been ignored and even ridiculed for so long.  But it is backwards.  Policy change flows from societal perceptions.  Until stereotypes are challenged, there will be no political expediency to change policies to become less discriminatory towards men.  And even more than that, when we fight the policies first, particularly with the potential negative consequences for women and children, we earn the movement a reputation as being anti-women or anti-children rather than being pro-men.  In this way, not only do we fail to create forward progress, but we actually create extra work for ourselves, because we must work backwards through the negative reputation attached to our efforts.  

Let’s look, for example, at the struggle for gay rights.  At first, all attempts to legislate equality failed miserably, and in fact resulted in a backlash where religious groups attempted, sometimes successfully, to pre-emptively define marriage as being only for straight people, in an attempt to prevent gay rights from becoming legislated.  This only changed once the movement focused primarily on public outreach - on encouraging gay people to come out of the closet and reach out to their family and friends and community. It was only once a majority of the public knew a person who is openly gay, that the stereotypes about what it means to be gay started to come down, people started to empathize with the plight of gay people, and public bias started to shift. Only then was legislative reform successful, when it came after a successful movement to shift public opinion.

And this is the reason why I hesitate to describe myself as a Men’s Rights Activist.  Because my focus is on awareness, public perception, overthrowing bias and stereotypes.  I can’t get behind all of the legislative policy change proposals of the MRM because I believe it will come at a cost too great to our movement.  We have to do this in order.

* We, as in us gender egalitarians.

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

Seeking Validity: Romance

This is a true story from my youth. I've done my best to recall the details of the day to the best of my ability - but it was an important day for me - so I remember it well.

Tara, Ron and I were sitting at the large, circular unused teacher's table during lunch of my senior year. We were all in Drama class together - and we were lumped into the same lunch block because of it. Incidentally, this was the only year in high school where I didn't share lunch with my two best childhood friends. Tara and Ron were new friends to me - because we spent so much time together during rehearsals after school - we made a pretty strong bond relatively quickly.

Being born in New York and transplanted to the rural south at a young age can be traumatizing. I don't expect anyone to quite understand that unique pain that comes from being a Yankee in Billy Bob's Court. Especially when you're a child.

So, growing up - I never had girlfriends. Not even the lame kind where you never talk and just wave in the hallway. It wasn't until I was 14 that I actively started to want a girlfriend - and when a year had passed, and I was 15 still with no girlfriend - I started to get frustrated. Luckily - I got through being 15 by convincing myself that I needed to have a driver's license and a car to have a girlfriend.

That bought me some time - or so I thought. The reality was that when I did finally end up having a drivers license, awesome parents who would let me drive where and when I wanted (within reason), and a completely awesome car:

Oh man, do I miss that thing.

Wait ... no I don't.



Where was I?

So when I finally turned 16 and had a car, money to spend and permission to take girls out on dates - my singleness became almost unbearable. Luckily, I had a new female friend, Tara, who I could vent on.

Tara was a tall, shapely blonde and our salutatorian. She was extremely intelligent if slightly condescending. Bad acne and a poor family (little make-up and ill-fitting, out of date clothes handed down from her older sisters) meant that she didn't get much attention from the boys in our school.

Ron was new to the school - he'd transferred in after some trouble (bullying?) at another school district. He was very, very poor but extremely good looking. That said, he had self-confidence issues and wasn't very smooth.

Tara, Ron and I made a close, if odd group of friends that year. I regularly vented to both Tara and Ron about my inability to find a girlfriend. Ron was no help at all. He kept offering pickup lines. Tara wasn't much help either - but one day she got sick of my complaining and decided to lead me to water and shove my head into the trough.

"So exactly how many girls have you asked out?" she said.

"Well, I asked Amanda after rehearsal a few weeks ago, I asked Leslie out last month," I offered.

"Right, but those were your friends before you asked them. You can't do that. You need to find a girl you think is cute, and just ask her."

I scoffed. "Right! That would not end well. She'd probably laugh in my face - there's no way that would work."

She crossed her arms and sat back in her chair. "You've never tried it. You don't know that."

"Fine! I'll do it right now - just to prove you wrong!" I spun around in my seat and decided to find the most attractive girl I could at the table behind us. Of course, I wanted to be right more than I actually wanted a date with a girl at this moment, so I picked the absolute hottest girl at the table behind me. Kirsten Sweetwater (yes, that was almost exactly her name - although I didn't know it at the time.)

She had long, natural blonde hair - cute freckles and a beautiful smile. She was athletic and wore nice clothes. I chuckled to myself - I was sure to crash and burn and prove my point.

At the last second, I hesitated. I spun back to my table - there's a certain self preservation instinct that makes it hard to face unavoidable rejection. "That would be rude."

Tara rolled her eyes - "It won't be rude, it will be a compliment. Trust me."

Ron spoke up - "Look, dude, I'll do it, it's easy."

Suddenly, a fire rushed over me, from my spine, over my shoulders and down the front of my chest and through my legs. I was not going to let Ron ask her. I spun around.

I tapped on her shoulder in the noisy lunchroom. She turned around. "Hey, I've noticed you before, I wanted to know if you'd like to go out on a date with me."

The girls sitting with her made bug eyes. I braced myself. "Uhhhh ..." She turned beet-red. "I'm not sure." She started laughing.

"Ok, thanks." I turned around - that wasn't nearly as bad as I expected. I looked right at Tara. "See? What did I tell you!"

Tara gave me this face:




"Are you serious? She did not turn you down! She said she didn't know!"

"Isn't that the same thing?"

"Of course it's not the same thing! Did you see her face? She was smiling like an idiot and turned bright red! She was clearly interested!"

"Really?" I said.

Tara and Ron chimed in unison, "Yes!"

I turned around again, and tapped the girl on the shoulder. She was still red. Her friends stopped talking.

"So you said 'I don't know.' What does that mean exactly?"

"Well I'd have to ask my parents first."

"So ... you mean would go out with me on a date if your parents said you could?"

"Oh, yeah! Of course."

"Great!" I said, and turned around. Lunch was almost over. Tara was the embodiment of I-told-you-so. Ron gave me an approving smile. I fought an epic war internally to contain my excitement.

Kirsten came by after she took up her tray and handed me a note with her name and home phone number and walked away saying "Call me tonight, OK?"

Long story short, her parents said no to a proper "date" but they did invite me over for dinner (I got along really well with her father) and allowed us to spend the day at a local fair - and sit together and watch fireworks that night. It didn't matter - at that point in my life I wasn't terribly concerned with a first kiss or more - I was 16 and desperately seeking romantic validation - and I got it by randomly approaching a cute girl and asking her out.


Thursday, August 4, 2011

A Blue Shirt Confession

A good deal of conversation has been going on regarding men feeling sexy, men feeling sexually harassed and men's sexuality.

I wasn't quite sure how to respond.


I completely realize - and experience - the way that men's sexual value is minimalized, fetishized or parodied in mainstream, heterosexual media.

The idea that women could be sexually attracted to men is taboo. They can be attracted to his wealth, his power, prestige, fame or talent - but his body? Hah! C'mon now ... we're being SERIOUS.

Now of course GAY men find men attractive - that's because they're men! Men in general find all sorts of things sexually attractive - women, other men, children, animals, high-heeled shoes ... that's cause they're perverts. No more discussion needed.

So earlier this week I wore my totally out-of-place Carribean Blue dress shirt to work.


The men in my office have a uniform. It is the blue pinstripe shirt with black or dark blue slacks. Close your eyes - think of wall-street execs minus the tie and jacket. Boom - that's my office (other than the women who wear dresses like this vvv ... but that's another post.)


But it was laundry day, so I wore that blue shirt with some black slacks. I pulled in to the parking garage behind a small Corolla. She got the space closer to the office building, I had to pull in a few spaces down from her. I grabbed my coffee and lunch and got out of my car.

As I headed towards the office building, I saw a short, mocha-skinned (Filipino?) woman about my age get out of her car and open her trunk. It was the same woman who I pulled in behind.

(Edit: I understand how important a woman's appearance is, so here's the best description I can give: She was about 30 years old, 5'1" and 100 lbs. She was wearing a tight tan skirt that came up about 4 inches above her knees, and a very light blue button-up blouse. Her hair was the same as the woman in the photo below, and she was wearing heavy-but natural make-up to cover her lightly pock-marked cheeks. She has olive-shaped eyes and full lips.)

She opened her trunk, slung her shoulderbag over her shoulder, and in one swift movement, tossed her hair back, made eye contact and gave me "the smile."

That is the smile. It's mostly in the eyes - but it's absolutely different from the "friendly smile" and the "cordial smile" and the "professional smile." [I'll be happy to talk about these later, but for now, I need to stay focused.]

So she gave me a smile that I don't get very often. She got her bag, closed her trunk and headed towards the main building. At this point I was about one pace behind her. We walked out from the parking garage toward the covered walkway that led to the office building.

A couple dozen feet from the door, she looked over her right shoulder at me - first at my chest, then up to my eyes. She was smiling.

She grabbed the door, opened it and let me go through first. I nodded at her and walked through first. I hesitated after walking through - looked behind me and watched her as she followed me through the door, and started walking next to me.

I said, "I'm not used to women holding the door and letting me go through first."

She replied, "I like your shirt. It's uplifting and festive. It makes me feel alive."

As she said "alive" she looked up at my eyes as we continued walking.

I did my best to respond quickly, "Well, I'm a philanthropist of sorts. I actually hate this shirt but I wear it to cheer up women's days."

She did the giggle. (The giggle is really hard to describe. But it's usually a sign of flirting because she's laughing at something that ISN'T actually funny - the other possibility is that she's just trying to occupy dead air time.)

We walk the rest of the way to the elevators, and she presses the UP button. I suspect she was being polite with her "giggle" so I whip out my Blackberry and look at it intently.
(Of course, my Blackberry is a piece of shit, so I was actually staring at a blank screen while it struggled to activate it's main screen, but that's not important.)

"So what do you do for AMC?" She wasn't trying to be polite. The giggle was a flirt. The blood drained from my face. I can deal with women I don't know - as long as they're not flirting with me. Attractive women flirting with me is so far out of my everyday experience that it causes a meltdown of sorts in my reasoning cortex.
(I don't actually work for AMC - I work for the equivalent of A&C ... but people often confuse the ampersand for an M ...)

The elevator arrived and I let her in first. I entered and pressed the 7 button. She stepped forward and pushed the 6 button.

I spent the rest of our solitary elevator trip up to her floor (6) telling her about my job.

The sixth floor arrived - she got off, looked over her shoulder and said "It was really nice talking with you," and swished her sexy little ass around the corner.

The doors closed.

I realized, shortly after that I had been holding my lunch box in my left hand - obscuring my ring finger. Even later, I realized that there were no offices on the sixth floor of our office building (It's very new, many floors haven't been leased yet.)

Now to the confession part: My interaction with her made me feel GOOD. I felt invigorated and confident. It's been a while since I felt that way - because no matter how much encouragement your spouse gives you, an "outside opinion" is always bolstering to your self confidence.

From here on out, that blue shirt is going to be my 'sexy' shirt, and there's not anything anyone can do about it.

Sunday, July 31, 2011

Tall or Short

FUCK YOU. If I could be taller or shorter than I am now - I'd rather be shorter. Yeah, I said it: SHORTER.

I could fit into a Ferrari or a Porsche or a Miata. A fucking MIATA.

Shorter, thank you.

Why? Because I like to drive cars. Cars are made for shorter people.

If I wanted to be a rapper, I'd want to be black.

If I wanted to be a gymnist, I'd want to be a woman.

If I wanted to do motivational speaking, I'd be handicapped.

And you know what - I want to drive cars - ALL CARS - so I want to be shorter. Fuck anyone who doubts me.

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

My Penis and This Post

I read this post at No, Seriously, What About Teh Menz and started writing a comment. It got too long (hehe) and decided to post my response here.

A word to my wife, first of all: I THINK I've told you all this, although maybe not in all detail. It regards my penis size and my exes. If you don't want to read about it and would rather hear it from me personally, just let me know.


I am a well-endowed man. I am, "unfortunately" for me, a grower -- not a shower, and uncut. What that means, in realistic terms, is that during my normal, everyday duties, my penis has the appearance of the average man's thumb, tucked in against itself. It is pitiful and makes no knowledge of its presence. Add to that a foreskin that completely shrouds my "penis" and it feels forgettable.

This was how I went through life, convinced that I had a small penis. A forgettable, small penis. Through high-school shower rooms, college bathrooms and invitations to skinny-dip in college.

Of course, during sex with my handful of partners during these years, I never heard them complain. I even enjoyed the odd "complaint" from my 5-foot 1-inch girlfriend who said "you're a bit to take." That was all that was said on the matter.

Fast forward to a year after graduation from college. My current girlfriend and two other women I worked with were at my basement apartment enjoying some food and drinks I had made them. The four of us were playing truth or dare (can you imagine 22+ year olds playing such a game?) and I excused myself to the bathroom.

After my business was done, I headed down the long, carpeted hallway back towards the kitchen only to hear my girlfriend say "Truth." "Laura" (The intern) asked her "How big is 's dick?"

I stopped in my tracks. I didn't want to hear the answer - my girlfriend, the woman about to answer this question, had more than 40 sexual partners before me. She was 6 years older than me. This was NOT going to be good. The best I could hope for was "He's pretty average." I froze - not wanting to hear the answer but afraid to move.

She replied: "The biggest I've ever had."

I thought to myself: "A 28 year old woman with more than 40 partners, and I'M THE BIGGEST?" But she was a brutally honest person. She never, ever lied - even when it was in her best interest. I felt I had spent too much time in the hallway and strode into the kitchen. I felt eyes on me.

I pretended to wash a dish in the sink. "Is it true?" my co-worker asked me. I feigned ignorance ... "Is WHAT TRUE? Heather, what did you say?"

Heather said, "I told them about your ... endowment," she said, with slurred speech. (Heather was very Christian like that, she'd not say the word but participate in enthusiastic adultery in the dark.)

I replied, "I have no idea - I've never been able to compare myself to other men."

With that, Heather (my girlfriend) got up off the floor with her wine glass in hand and came over to me as I leaned backwards over the sink. She put her elbow into my crotch and pointed to her wrist with her free hand. I looked up towards my two co-workers with no expectation of what to expect. There were cries of "Holy shit!" and "Can I see?"

That was the day that I learned that I was well-endowed. Because of my life as a grower-not-a-shower, I was convinced I was smaller than most men (because I never had the opportunity to be around excited men.)

Because of my time watching porn, I was convinced that I was, AT BEST, average.

I spoke to Heather after wards - I needed to know - was I THAT large?
Yes, I was.
Here I was, in my mid 20s and I just now found out I had a big 'ole penis. For Fuck's Sake - seriously?

In the days and weeks after I broke up with Heather (religion, in case you were wondering why we broke up - followed almost immediately by the infidelity of the forementioned intern from the Truth Or Dare story above) I spoke to exes on Facebook - asking, bluntly, about my penis.

The results were unanimous - I had a gigantinormous penis.

Well, isn't that special?

I even had my ex of 15 years tell me that my penis size had ruined her. She couldn't enjoy P-I-V sex with her 10+ partners since we'd dated like she could with me.

So I should be feeling pretty damn awesome about my junk right? Well I didn't. Big doesn't equal beautiful. Big is just big. Hard is just hard.

Fast forward a couple years. I was laying in bed with my (now) wife after sex. The lights were on. I was laying on my back, overheated, like I am after sex, and she was laying over towards me, her head on my chest. Her hand was holding my penis - I could feel her tossing the weight of my half-erect penis around in her hand. Her head was angled down towards it as she played with it.

"I love your penis," she said.

And for the first time in my life, I felt like my penis was beautiful. I felt like the woman who loved me, loved my penis, too. Me and my penis - both loved.
And that's a good, good thing.

For me, her, and my penis. For everyone involved.

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Dan Savage Was Not Annoying

I've always thought that one should point out when people you normally disagree with get something right.
Quiet Riot Girl has an ongoing series of posts titled "Dan Savage is Annoying" that I'm quite fond of. I never really liked Dan Savage - and although I think he gives good advice, generally, there was something about him that I didn't like. I assumed that it was latent homophobia or something. I was happy to find that another progressive didn't like him.
So, when Dan was asked this question at Cornell University - I thought I knew what he was going to say.

Cornell professor Ritch Savin-Williams said in the New York Times that he's concerned that it's not about gay youth, but about gender-atypical kids. Is the "It Gets Better" campaign too narrowly focused?

I expected Dan to say that because gender-atypical straight kids were straight that they would be OK and didn't need the reassurance that the "It Gets Better" campaign afforded them. But no, he did a good job here. In fact, he pointed out that their campaign misses out on a key of their demographic (gay kids who can pass for straight) and still didn't denigrate the experiences of the straight-yet-gender-bullied tomboys and sissies out there.

In high school I scored very low on the hetero score among the guys in my school. I didn't play any of the sports that mattered (the ones ending in -ball), I enjoyed acting in drama and never dated any of the girls from my school. One year, a guy in my English class showed the determination to call me "fag" whenever he referred to me - for weeks on end. He said it out loud, often within earshot of the teacher. "Good job on your paper, fag." "I'm not gay." "It's OK if you're a fag, fag. You can be comfortable in your faggotry around me." (This boy is now a minister at a Southern Baptist church in Virginia. I Googled him.)

You might be asking why the teacher never called him out on this. Well, she was a closeted lesbian. If she had written up the pastor's son (did I mention that) for sexual harassment of another male student - well I don't think it would've been good for her career wise. One day she asked me to stay after class. She wanted to let me know that if I was gay, that I shouldn't be ashamed, or hate myself or anything. This was too much for me. I looked her straight in the eye and said "I'M. NOT. GAY!"
Her attitude towards me changed very quickly. She had no problem with me enduring slurs - as long as I was straight. Maybe she lumped me in with all those homophobic rednecks in Appomattox. Maybe she liked to see infighting amongst the "enemy." Maybe she didn't believe me.

Either way, Thanks Dan, for getting it right.

And if anyone is wondering why I got so angry at being called "gay" if there's nothing wrong with being gay - let me put it this way:

If you own an empty hotel and someone keeps putting up a "no vacancy" sign on the lawn, wouldn't you be more than a little pissed?

Tuesday, March 15, 2011