This isn’t a menanist rant or an attack of important causes or social issues, it’s merely the recount of my thoughts as a 25-year-old who is living with depression and anxiety caused by lockdown-loneliness and the outdated prejudices that continue to plague men and ultimately contribute to many taking their own lives.
With the media narrative heedlessly continuing to push gender stereotypes and Twitter users condemning men for all indignations — we’re often putting out one fire only to fuel another. This isn’t a debate of men against women, in the same way that “All lives matter” isn’t a valid argument against “Black Lives Matter”, or feminism being about anything other than equality—to want to liberate all genders from sexist role patterns. This is, however, the recognition that the attitudes towards men and the emotions of men are spiralling. A fatal combination.
Articles like “Why I’m no longer talking to white people about race” by Reni Eddo-Lodge have addressed important topics that have rallied support, inspiring me, much like she was, to tackle something I have experienced first-hand and think deserves attention.
I am and always have been quick to admit my privilege and also proud to announce my allyship of people from minority backgrounds and those that identify within the LGBTQI+ community. I recognise and have even witnessed some of the systemic and relentless discrimination others suffer on a daily basis. So, in comparison, I can understand why the story of men working to overcome and readdress the stereotypes that men themselves created and have subsequently benefitted from for centuries could be considered less alarming.
However, consider that while the rest of society is evolving (albeit somewhat slowly) a root cause is yet to be externally addressed. Currently, the spotlight is turned on men and the feedback we’re receiving is mostly negative — yet while we can recognise the wrongdoing our gender has caused in hindsight, our mentalities have been cut from the same (dated) cloth. I don’t mean attitudes like overt sexism or a need to commit heinous crimes like rape or murder, but the inherent and systemic beliefs that men have embodied throughout the history of our gender that some of these actions stem from.
Authors like Elizabeth Day and Matt Haig, as well as podcasters like Steven Bartlett and Jake Humphreys have been fundamental in bringing this conversation to the eyes and ears of men that seek it. Introspection, alongside yoga and charcoal croissants, has been a new trend for content creation and an important part of my journey and no-doubt countless others to analyse our own behaviour as men.
However, extrospection has forced me to recognise the hypocrisy that curses our timelines, a conscious double-standard that exists against men seemingly in the name of ‘feminism’ or ‘humour’. As a compulsive social media user, accumulating a daily average of 9 hours of screen time through endlessly scrolling TikTok, Instagram and Twitter in rotation, it’s here I fuel my anxiety and depression. It’s these platforms that not only perpetuate hate in addition to the well versed unrealistic view of gender perfection, but also the consistently negative comments about my gender.
I should flag that I am not trying to be tone-deaf and that I recognise other genders, sexualities and ethnicities endure this worse. I acknowledge and don’t intend to dilute the conversation of the persistent overt discrimination and harassment that women experience as a daily occurrence. This is a serious issue and deserves its own platform, but should also mean that treating men, in the same way, is not the solution. After all, everyone’s problems are valid even if some are experiencing worse.
In recent days the polarising narrative of “all men” has surfaced once again. While some have adopted this in the spirit that it is intended; by providing helpful tips to men that might help women feel safer, the vast majority have succumbed to debating a non-issue, that it’s not all men. In the same way that “Feminism” is in the name of the female gender but is not about oppressing men, the phrase “all men” isn’t condemning every person of that gender, but more-so the actions of toxic masculinity that still exists as an outdated ideology.
I had a conversation with a friend recently in response to the ongoing murder investigation of Sarah Everard. In that conversation, I was asked if I had ever experienced sexual assault, to which I replied “Yes”. I think her immediate reaction was to assume I was being purposefully argumentative and so, expectedly, she asked me to qualify my answer. I shared my recounts of being groped, waking up to sexual acts being performed on me or having a stranger touch me without prompt or encouragement. I explained that if these were the experiences of a woman, that they would (or rather should) be taken seriously — but as a man, it’s believed that I should have enjoyed the attention because in the single-lens of masculinity, to reject that attention would be out of character.
Being a ‘man’ still means believing that our value to society and potential partners is intrinsically tied to our worth — be it financially, aesthetically, physically or emotionally. It’s the inherent belief that you must be relentless, competitive, decisive, career-orientated, sexually experienced (without too much experience), thoughtful and chivalrous. It’s the unspoken rule that you mustn’t show weakness — meaning that regardless of our feelings, we don’t ask for help. And again, to reiterate to the point of exhaustion, these are not dissimilar to that of women, but somehow are much less likely to be discussed openly. It’s this mindset that is the biggest cause of death for men under 30 in the UK.
I hope it goes without saying I am not excusing or permitting men, or in-fact anyone, who is racist, or sexist or that chooses to be rude, malicious and otherwise abhorrent. This is about education regardless of gender, to identify and support one another against the pressures we have inherited and the discomfort we inadvertently or deliberately cause each other.
Irish actor and comedian Chris O’Dowd spoke eloquently to the transition of masculinity in conversation with Louis Theroux on his podcast Grounded.
“I think we live in an unusual time where masculinity is being second-guessed so frequently, and rightfully that it does put us in this hinterland of okay ‘I’m being a man the best I can.’ But also, I don’t know, our role in the world is going through such a transition that we’re definitely in that period pre-kind-of equality where we’re still very much expected to be providers and all of that kind of stuff, but also we have to do what’s expected of us as parents and as partners, and as members of society that our fathers wouldn’t have had to deal with. So that’s an unusual thing but I think that we’re dealing with, generally, quite well we give ourselves an awfully hard time as a society but I think we’re transitioning to a fairer place with realms of speed, considering from 1000s of years very little changed.”
It’s true, the statistics of sexual assault against women by men paint an unequivocally bleak picture. Unfortunately, that fact will likely never change, but the awareness of the symptoms that feed the problem will provide the knowledge to facilitate real change and drastically reduce the occurrence and severity of cases. It might also lead to a better insight into the reverse statistics, of assaults against men by women—a problem that shouldn’t go unnoticed either.
This requires reasoned communication and an agreement amongst us all that we’ll try harder, that we’ll more frequently recognise the implicit degradation of women—our mothers, sisters and daughters, and expect the same consideration in return for our fathers, brothers and sons.
We should acknowledge that pure hatred and outrage against the people of different genders, religions and sexualities that commit crimes isn’t the solution to fixing the problem. It’s in that spirit I say on behalf of men: We’re listening, but please be kind.