What Happens When I Tell Men What I Really Think

What Happens When I Tell Men What I Really Think

Callouts are just the beginning of a sorely needed conversation

Photo by Schäferle on Pixabay

I like the company of men. I’m not just talking about sex, although I’m sure that’s what you assumed when I said it that way, since our culture makes a lot of things about sex.

When I write about old white men needing to be called out, as I did in my latest story, I’m not generalizing as much as you might think. I don’t have unresolved issues with men, “daddy” or otherwise.

My dad raised me for most of my life, a girl growing up in the 70s and 80s — a man’s world he knew would be harder for me to navigate. He taught me I could do anything I set my mind to, despite the glass ceiling I had to break through.

I get along with most men and have had several close men friends over the years. I’ve had intimate partners who are sensitive, kind, compassionate men. Men who earned my respect and love by being open to listening to me. Men who actively combat their internalized sexism and misogyny and are willing to grow more attuned to themselves and the women around them.

I don’t assume all men are misogynistic assholes, and I know you don’t appear out of nowhere. You grow into the role, and you either embrace it or choose to address the problems with it and change your approach.

I share my experiences with those who are, so that those of you who aren’t will take notes and pass them on. I don’t assume you will be open to learning from me, either. But one can always hope.

The men closest to me know this, but most cis men I meet don’t have a clue that I don’t consider you the enemy, nor am I here to fight. Callouts are rare for me, so when I do, it means I’m compelled and can’t stay quiet anymore.

I don’t hate all men, and generally like spending time with them as much as anyone. Gender isn’t a barrier to friendship or dating, and it doesn’t define my feelings for you.

It does, however, present a problem for you as a man who tries to make every interaction about a conquest or control over me or my body.

Many of you do it so often that it warrants a conversation. It happens enough for a multitude of women to speak up in online blogging communities like Medium. It’s a relatively safe space to tell you, hey, bro, what you did offended me, and how you’re acting makes me not want to be around you.

We only say something when we know we’re safe. That should tell you where we are coming from, if you care to know.

When I took a chance and spoke up about an old guy teasing me at a grocery store checkout line, a stranger who didn’t consider his words or timing, I got plenty of feedback from identified men in the comments.

I was disheartened to hear most of you arguing, hurling insults, judging my character, or being blatantly rude, like “TL;DR” when my story was only five minutes long. You felt the need to tell me you refuse to listen, further confirming that some of you don’t care how you treat us. That was the point of saying something, or I’d have nothing to talk about.

A few of you, also identifying as old white men, encouraged me to give them hell and validated my feelings. Thank you for that. But sadly, what I heard from most of you was an overwhelming unwillingness to learn, grow, or change, and a double down on gaslighting.

I learned that the men who aren’t open to learning and growing, those of you unwilling to listen and believe women, are the ones who responded most when I wrote in the way that I did. I relayed my story to show you what didn’t work for me, and how it felt. I told those of you who acted like that guy that you were wrong. Many of you pushed back.

Nearly all of you who disagreed were defensive. At first, I was angry that you didn’t have the decency to acknowledge my discomfort from facing sexist comments and advances for 40-plus years. Your defiance in the face of my pain disappointed me.

I had to take a beat, y’all. It was hard to digest what I was reading yesterday. I haven’t yet read all of the comments as of today because of the garbage directed at me. Nevertheless, I persisted with curiosity and willingness to learn from your responses.

Now I can see you offered valuable information in your commentary. You showed me that you knew these men were wrong, and you didn’t want to admit that you’ve acted the same toward women. Rarely does anyone like to admit they’re wrong, so you lashed out at me. Unfortunately, I didn’t create a space for change to happen, at least not right away.

You also demonstrated the ineffectiveness of calling you out, especially as a woman you don’t know. You resisted the idea that you might be a part of the problem, and it came out as an accusation against me.

How dare I judge this guy for being clueless? His prefrontal cortex is degrading as he ages, one of you said. Ohhh-kay. I’m an older woman with fewer filters these days, but I don’t act out like that. Why are you making excuses for him?

But you don’t care how men treat me. I’m just another one of those angry feminists, right? You don’t see me as a person, a woman who’s trying to live in the world without being harmed.

I misjudged my audience. If I were your mother, sister, daughter, or girlfriend, I might have more impact because they’re people you care about. Maybe you’d hear me if you knew your mother had gone through the same thing. Men were relentlessly sexist back in the day, just so you know.

If I talked about men’s fragile mental health or the loneliness they face from living in a society that doesn’t support their growth in the first place, maybe you’d listen more. But it wasn’t my responsibility to tread more lightly or accommodate your needs.

I realize I’m not the best person to call you out and tell you to act better toward me. You need to feel the depth and weight through the stories of your femme-presenting loved ones. You need another man to tell you what you’re doing isn’t working for them, and you need to be willing to change. If you refuse to treat women better, I can’t help you with your loneliness problem. You’ll lose access to a valuable resource.

It wasn’t about how to take care of you or teach you how to treat women better. It’s like asking a Black person how I can be more anti-racist. That’s for me to figure out and do the work. I have to start by treating Black people better. By listening to them, believing them when they say it’s not okay to do or say this or that.

That’s how you start. By treating women better.

How, you ask? Please, talk to other men who have done the work. They have found the map, the blueprint for how to unravel decades of institutional misogyny and sexism. They will help you. If you won’t listen to the women in your life, at least listen to other men. But for the love of all things holy, stop fighting women on this.

I’m glad I finally got your attention, because that story is making me money I can spend on paying my bills and taking care of my children. So thank you for that.

As for the men who are doing the work, I see you and know you hold the key to unlocking the heavy door of misogyny in the manosphere. I’ll pass the baton for you to call in or out, to teach by example, and to continue showing women the respect and care we deserve.

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