On Blaming, and Being, The Patriarchy
My recent discussion with Alexis regarding my myriad feelings around being a white, middle class man who is also a feminist interested in race theory, queer theory and social justice has got me thinking even more about it, trying to formulate how I feel into something a little more clear than I've been able to so far. (One of the joys of being friends with Lex, for me, is that she often encourages me to think more deeply, in different directions about things, even when it's uncomfortable for me; she's also wonderful at pointing out blind spots.) The whole thing started because a Peanuts cartoon reminded me of how some people see me and how, because of this, I sometimes see myself.
Bad Guy
The basic idea is this: I have been told (accused?) that my motives for studying feminism (and race, and class, etc.), for calling myself a feminist, for focusing (at times) on feminist theory and practice (to whatever degree) are in fact merely just window dressing for my actual motive, which is said to be: I don't want to be the bad guy.
And it's not a far reach for me or for others to think this. I don't like being a bad guy--who does? And this feeling does sometimes motivate me in ways that I don't really like. For instance, I've stayed in relationships longer than I ought to have because I was afraid of being the bad guy. (I've even projected this fear onto those who have broken up with me. Sheesh.) I try to not beat myself up that much about this, because I think it's a failing that many/most people have; also, to some degree it really is just some very good intentions gone awry--I think this springs, at least in part, from a very real, sincere desire to just not do harm to people, but that such intentions are of course not enough. It's possible that I let my desire to be thought of as an ally in the big ol' world of feminism override my desire for simply being that ally, and for trying to find justice as regards sexism.
Getting Some
I've also been accused of even more 'base' motivations, which I'm also open to being possible motivations: Wanting to get laid. And, just like not wanting to be a bad guy, who doesn't want to get laid? Also, this is apparently a fairly pervasive problem throughout feminist circles that include men--men who latch onto feminism because, well, that's where a bunch of women are, aren't uncommon, apparently. And this sort of complaint about my possible motivations goes even deeper because of some gender/sexuality issues that I have, where (if you've ever seen the show) it becomes hard for me to watch The L Word simply by virtue of the guy named Lisa(?--I think) who is self-identified as a lesbian, because that caricature of a character hits close enough to home--or to what some people perceive as my home--to make me squirm like Bush Jr. during an unscripted Q and A. Except, y'know, with less smirking.
Womens' Studies, or Studying Women?
Some examples of when I've been taken to task for my possible motivations may be in order. When I was first becoming interested in feminism proper, I started taking some women's studies courses in college. I was excited, dubious and nervous about it, all rolled into one. The first women's studies course that I took was on queer women fiction writers, and it was both lovely and horrific for me. As the only man signed up for the class, I didn't feel particularly welcome, but it was hard to separate my fears and such from any genuine dislike for my being there--though my feelings definitely came from both places. I didn't understand, at that point, any of the nuances of women's-only spaces (though I came to understand it better while in the class) and what they might mean especially to the women in a college class. And actually my experience of such courses in general is that they aren't thought of as women's only spaces in general, and I would imagine that sentiment is even more true now. Still, I didn't understand that my sincere desire to learn amounted to something of an invasion to some of the people in the class, good intentions or not.
Silencio!
During that time, I tried to be as unobtrusive as I could be. I was probably the quietest in that class that I have ever been since I went to college, really. I didn't cut my input down to nothing--I thought at the time that doing so would actually be a negative thing, because then there I am, listening in but not contributing. If I had pressing questions that I thought shouldn't take up class time, I would talk to my gracious prof after class. It did give me a wee little bit of insight as to how one might feel marginalized in a classroom setting by one's gender (and I was able to draw on that experience later in my college life when one of my classmates complained that her profs were sexist regarding who they called on in class--it was more readily apparent to me that she was spot-on in part because of my similar (though not the same) experiences in women's studies classes).
As I took more women's studies classes, I eventually made some friends with people that were in that first class. (It's a pretty small circle, really--or at least it was back then.) I finally got up enough courage to ask some of them about it all, and to a person (ok, there were only two of 'em) they told me they had been pretty much convinced at first that I was there to either cause trouble or to hit on them. So both of these women, who were friends in only the school-chum sort of way, both confided in me that they still weren't sure about me, and about my motives. And it's not as if I blame them--not only have I seen the sort of behavior that they were wary of, I am also wary of such behavior from myself. These two women had clearly had experiences such that they might always question my motives, and this is a fact that I have to accept. This is part of what being who I am (male, white, middle-class and feminist) in this particular patriarchy entails.
What I'm Not Saying
Which is not to say that I think I have it bad, in some sort of absolute way. The cross of the white middle class male feminist is balsa wood, compared with what those who are oppressed by white middle class males have to bear. Their cross is made of heavy oak, full of nails and is 20 feet tall. Oh, and it's on fire.
And I'm not saying that I think it is the feminist community's 'job' to help me feel better about myself.
And I'm not saying that it is any one of my women friend's 'job' to help me understand this better.
And I'm not saying that blaming the patriarchy must include equal parts of 'this sucks for women' and 'this sucks for men'--it clearly sucks more for women.
What I Do Want to Say
What I do want to say is more complex than what I am trying to make it clear I don't want to say. I want to say this: That the feelings of alienation and despair that I sometimes feel are as systemic and pervasive as the alienation and despair that others, for different reasons, feel. That my motivations for wanting to end sexism and the like are myriad and complex. That I sometimes doubt myself in the same ways (or similar ones) that the other feminists around me doubt me.
To put it another way: When Lex says this to me...
...it really does hurt, because that's exactly the sort of take on my motives and intentions that I can't really blame anybody for, but at the same time I must feel bullied a bit by.
When I complain about the negatives of being a feminist man in a patriarchy, why is it thought that I think my hardships are as bad as those of others?--I don't. But I do have to deal with my hardships.
Why is it thought that I'm 'just having a bad day' when, in fact, I'm trying to address something I think is institutional and systemic?
Though I do have issues with dykes not wanting to sleep with me(or be friends with me, or let me in the club), why are my complaints of alienation as a feminist man in a patriarchy attributed to not getting laid by dykes, when in fact they have to do with not feeling like I have allies in my struggle? So my struggle doesn't measure up to the struggle most others have to endure--I still have to live through the struggle, and I still need people in my life who understand that and might even help me through it.
What to Do
One central problem of being a feminist man is figuring out what to do. That is, there are all sorts of ways to take down the patriarchy, but they aren't always apparent to those of us who are, to whatever degree, in a position of priveledge. And what a lot of this comes down to for me is that I need to figure out ways of dealing with the feelings I feel (just as anybody has to deal with negative feelings), and, unlike other areas of my life where I have something of a community that understands/empathises and is willing to help me, the people I could call on to help me, the people who could understand and empathise, are often the very people from whom I am alienated regarding this stuff.
Perhaps I just need more white, middle-class male friends who identify as feminists? Perhaps.
But that doesn't change the fact that the biggest possible community of people that I could call upon have better things to do (and they do!); to be alienated from the group of people that I want most to identify with isn't the hardest burden to bear, or anywhere close to what others have to deal with; still, it's also not anything to discount by telling me I'm just having a bad day (even though having a bad day is important!) or that I'm just mad because (some) dykes don't want to fuck me. I'm only singling out Lex's comments as an example of what feels alienating to me, as an example of the sort of thing that I hear more often than I think 'is appropriate'; also, I want it clear that I don't think Lex's comments are outright wrong or out of line, any more than I think that the friends I made in my women's studies classes were wrong for suspecting my motives. But: I do think that these comments and the questioning of my motives (even by me!) shows a lack of understanding(/empathy?) about where I'm coming from, and what I have to deal with.
Filed under:Feminism and Therapy
My recent discussion with Alexis regarding my myriad feelings around being a white, middle class man who is also a feminist interested in race theory, queer theory and social justice has got me thinking even more about it, trying to formulate how I feel into something a little more clear than I've been able to so far. (One of the joys of being friends with Lex, for me, is that she often encourages me to think more deeply, in different directions about things, even when it's uncomfortable for me; she's also wonderful at pointing out blind spots.) The whole thing started because a Peanuts cartoon reminded me of how some people see me and how, because of this, I sometimes see myself.
Bad Guy
The basic idea is this: I have been told (accused?) that my motives for studying feminism (and race, and class, etc.), for calling myself a feminist, for focusing (at times) on feminist theory and practice (to whatever degree) are in fact merely just window dressing for my actual motive, which is said to be: I don't want to be the bad guy.
And it's not a far reach for me or for others to think this. I don't like being a bad guy--who does? And this feeling does sometimes motivate me in ways that I don't really like. For instance, I've stayed in relationships longer than I ought to have because I was afraid of being the bad guy. (I've even projected this fear onto those who have broken up with me. Sheesh.) I try to not beat myself up that much about this, because I think it's a failing that many/most people have; also, to some degree it really is just some very good intentions gone awry--I think this springs, at least in part, from a very real, sincere desire to just not do harm to people, but that such intentions are of course not enough. It's possible that I let my desire to be thought of as an ally in the big ol' world of feminism override my desire for simply being that ally, and for trying to find justice as regards sexism.
Getting Some
I've also been accused of even more 'base' motivations, which I'm also open to being possible motivations: Wanting to get laid. And, just like not wanting to be a bad guy, who doesn't want to get laid? Also, this is apparently a fairly pervasive problem throughout feminist circles that include men--men who latch onto feminism because, well, that's where a bunch of women are, aren't uncommon, apparently. And this sort of complaint about my possible motivations goes even deeper because of some gender/sexuality issues that I have, where (if you've ever seen the show) it becomes hard for me to watch The L Word simply by virtue of the guy named Lisa(?--I think) who is self-identified as a lesbian, because that caricature of a character hits close enough to home--or to what some people perceive as my home--to make me squirm like Bush Jr. during an unscripted Q and A. Except, y'know, with less smirking.
Womens' Studies, or Studying Women?
Some examples of when I've been taken to task for my possible motivations may be in order. When I was first becoming interested in feminism proper, I started taking some women's studies courses in college. I was excited, dubious and nervous about it, all rolled into one. The first women's studies course that I took was on queer women fiction writers, and it was both lovely and horrific for me. As the only man signed up for the class, I didn't feel particularly welcome, but it was hard to separate my fears and such from any genuine dislike for my being there--though my feelings definitely came from both places. I didn't understand, at that point, any of the nuances of women's-only spaces (though I came to understand it better while in the class) and what they might mean especially to the women in a college class. And actually my experience of such courses in general is that they aren't thought of as women's only spaces in general, and I would imagine that sentiment is even more true now. Still, I didn't understand that my sincere desire to learn amounted to something of an invasion to some of the people in the class, good intentions or not.
Silencio!
During that time, I tried to be as unobtrusive as I could be. I was probably the quietest in that class that I have ever been since I went to college, really. I didn't cut my input down to nothing--I thought at the time that doing so would actually be a negative thing, because then there I am, listening in but not contributing. If I had pressing questions that I thought shouldn't take up class time, I would talk to my gracious prof after class. It did give me a wee little bit of insight as to how one might feel marginalized in a classroom setting by one's gender (and I was able to draw on that experience later in my college life when one of my classmates complained that her profs were sexist regarding who they called on in class--it was more readily apparent to me that she was spot-on in part because of my similar (though not the same) experiences in women's studies classes).
As I took more women's studies classes, I eventually made some friends with people that were in that first class. (It's a pretty small circle, really--or at least it was back then.) I finally got up enough courage to ask some of them about it all, and to a person (ok, there were only two of 'em) they told me they had been pretty much convinced at first that I was there to either cause trouble or to hit on them. So both of these women, who were friends in only the school-chum sort of way, both confided in me that they still weren't sure about me, and about my motives. And it's not as if I blame them--not only have I seen the sort of behavior that they were wary of, I am also wary of such behavior from myself. These two women had clearly had experiences such that they might always question my motives, and this is a fact that I have to accept. This is part of what being who I am (male, white, middle-class and feminist) in this particular patriarchy entails.
What I'm Not Saying
Which is not to say that I think I have it bad, in some sort of absolute way. The cross of the white middle class male feminist is balsa wood, compared with what those who are oppressed by white middle class males have to bear. Their cross is made of heavy oak, full of nails and is 20 feet tall. Oh, and it's on fire.
And I'm not saying that I think it is the feminist community's 'job' to help me feel better about myself.
And I'm not saying that it is any one of my women friend's 'job' to help me understand this better.
And I'm not saying that blaming the patriarchy must include equal parts of 'this sucks for women' and 'this sucks for men'--it clearly sucks more for women.
What I Do Want to Say
What I do want to say is more complex than what I am trying to make it clear I don't want to say. I want to say this: That the feelings of alienation and despair that I sometimes feel are as systemic and pervasive as the alienation and despair that others, for different reasons, feel. That my motivations for wanting to end sexism and the like are myriad and complex. That I sometimes doubt myself in the same ways (or similar ones) that the other feminists around me doubt me.
To put it another way: When Lex says this to me...
sure there are some man-hating lesbos who you might like to fuck who don't want to sleep with you, but everyone doesn't hate you. not the way everyone expects you to earn less because your a woman. not the way everyone expects you to be the mugger because you're black. not the way u.s. citizens expect your slave-ish labor without recompense because you are an undocumented worker who is part of the ages of such who are the ones who really have built, cleaned, fed and served this country.
...it really does hurt, because that's exactly the sort of take on my motives and intentions that I can't really blame anybody for, but at the same time I must feel bullied a bit by.
When I complain about the negatives of being a feminist man in a patriarchy, why is it thought that I think my hardships are as bad as those of others?--I don't. But I do have to deal with my hardships.
Why is it thought that I'm 'just having a bad day' when, in fact, I'm trying to address something I think is institutional and systemic?
Though I do have issues with dykes not wanting to sleep with me(or be friends with me, or let me in the club), why are my complaints of alienation as a feminist man in a patriarchy attributed to not getting laid by dykes, when in fact they have to do with not feeling like I have allies in my struggle? So my struggle doesn't measure up to the struggle most others have to endure--I still have to live through the struggle, and I still need people in my life who understand that and might even help me through it.
What to Do
One central problem of being a feminist man is figuring out what to do. That is, there are all sorts of ways to take down the patriarchy, but they aren't always apparent to those of us who are, to whatever degree, in a position of priveledge. And what a lot of this comes down to for me is that I need to figure out ways of dealing with the feelings I feel (just as anybody has to deal with negative feelings), and, unlike other areas of my life where I have something of a community that understands/empathises and is willing to help me, the people I could call on to help me, the people who could understand and empathise, are often the very people from whom I am alienated regarding this stuff.
Perhaps I just need more white, middle-class male friends who identify as feminists? Perhaps.
But that doesn't change the fact that the biggest possible community of people that I could call upon have better things to do (and they do!); to be alienated from the group of people that I want most to identify with isn't the hardest burden to bear, or anywhere close to what others have to deal with; still, it's also not anything to discount by telling me I'm just having a bad day (even though having a bad day is important!) or that I'm just mad because (some) dykes don't want to fuck me. I'm only singling out Lex's comments as an example of what feels alienating to me, as an example of the sort of thing that I hear more often than I think 'is appropriate'; also, I want it clear that I don't think Lex's comments are outright wrong or out of line, any more than I think that the friends I made in my women's studies classes were wrong for suspecting my motives. But: I do think that these comments and the questioning of my motives (even by me!) shows a lack of understanding(/empathy?) about where I'm coming from, and what I have to deal with.
Filed under:Feminism and Therapy
posted by Jeff Pollet at 9:38 AM
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