Undateable: Why Single Christian Guys Are All Dented Cans - Anger

I've written about anger in this series before--in the entry on Entitlement and in the entry on Cowardice. In fact, if I've written about anger in every entry in this series, I wouldn't be surprised in the least.

Photo by Ferran Jordà

This is not about a normal, everyday kind of anger. Anger--the kind of anger I'm talking about--is tightly wound up with entitlement and an underlying sense of victimization:

Victimization: I have been injured.
Entitlement: I have a right to be angry.
Unspoken Assumption: I have the right to enact revenge and/or even the score.

This kind of anger feels dangerous, because it is so deeply rooted in a sense of righteous justification.

Instead of calling it "anger," it might be more accurate to refer to it as bitterness, resentment, or rage--an anger cherished, nurtured, held close.

I'm writing about anger not just because I drew it out of the jar as a writing topic (which I did), but because--

Anger is my Achilles' heel.

If you want something from me, try getting angry. I might just crack.

For whatever reason (maybe getting yelled at as a kid, I dunno), anger has an unpleasant effect on me: My throat tightens. I get quiet. I go numb.

I've learned that anger can be a form of manipulation and control. And it works. I can't think of a single abusive dynamic that I've been a part of that hasn't involved this kind of anger.

One guy I worked with would yell at me, then get even angrier when I responded neutrally instead of emotionally.

He would consistently tell me about how angry yet another guy was with me (triangulation).

This happened again in another situation, where one dude capitalized on the anger of another dude to overcome a break in our relationship (bonus points if it's someone in a position of power, authority, or influence):

"___ is very angry with you. You need to do something. I can help you fix it."

Essentially, Dude A used fear of authority, specifically fear sparked by someone in authority (Dude B) being angry with me, to get what he wanted.

I mean, it worked--maybe a little too well: I soon after entered into an abusive dynamic with Dude B, a dynamic centered around anger, fear and control. It felt a little too much like being handed from one abuser to another.

That was last year. This year, I found myself once again sitting across from one man telling me that another man was "very angry with me." I find this funny (rule of 3; first time tragedy, second time farce). If you find yourself in a conversation where one person is earnestly telling you that another person is angry with you, and what are you going to do about it, I can say with certainty that something is wrong.

But I digress. Achilles' heel.

This is about anger and Christian guys and being undateable.

I had an epiphany once, while working on this series: "Christian men don't actually respect women." And then that thought kept me up all night the way that 3am thoughts sometimes do.

I think there's some truth to it: some men and some Christian men do not see women as equals. They do not see women as fully human. And it's hard to respect someone unless you view them as fully human.

I've heard from a reliable source that "anger is a gateway emotion." If we think about shame as the root of this kind of anger (abusive anger), a disproportionate response to perceived slights* makes a lot of sense:

How would you feel if something not quite a person (that you don't regard as an equal) made you feel completely worthless? Especially when everything you believe about yourself and everything society encourages you to believe tells you that you are superior, the genuine article, the real thing?

It would be incredibly enraging. The balance must be restored. Someone or something must pay. Shame is an unbearable emotion, and it must be displaced onto the body of another.

In this case, violence is just settling the score, evening the debt, restoring the equilibrium.

Where does the shame go?

I've written before about how the burden of shame accrues to women. Even the way we talk about and think about anger contributes to this burden. Anger more than almost any other emotion is seen as "out of control" or "out of my control," serving as a justification for violence.

The less that men are "in control" of their own emotions or passions, the more women are responsible for the outcome of those emotions.

This is not to blame shame for the abusive anger of men--rather, the underlying belief that men are more valuable than women, more human than women, more entitled to respect, dignity, rights, justice, power, autonomy, etc.

Yes, I blame misogyny. I blame Christian teachings that emphasize complementarian gender roles. I believe that a system that enforces rigid, narrowly defined gender roles enables and encourages the abuse of women.

As men displace their shame onto women, they feel better, while women feel worse. Messages from our culture that implicate women in their own victimization serve to reinforce this sense of reverse responsibility: You are the one at fault. You caused your own abuse. You caused your own assault. You were not hyper-vigilant enough.

I suspect that just as men cannot heal the shame of women, women cannot heal the shame of men. And women are definitely not responsible for the underlying misogyny of men's anger.

Another important point: Submission to this type of anger is a bad idea. For so long I bought into a conception of Christian reconciliation that entailed submitting passively to unhealthy and abusive anger. I thought that by demonstrating humility I could heal the relationship and reestablish equilibrium. I even apologized to my very first abuser for treating him poorly (not listening to him, not respecting him). Not even joking.

For one, it doesn't work. It can even intensify the abuse. For another, there is nothing Christian or holy about submitting to dehumanizing behavior. Any theology, church, person who tells you otherwise is selling you an abusive crock of ****.








*I owe this idea to a discussion of Roy Baumeister's writing about abuse at WenatcheeTheHatchet. While I don't agree with Wenatchee's interpretation, I did find Baumeister's ideas about men's rationalizations for domestic violence helpful.

Undateable: Why Single Christian Guys are All Dented Cans: Entitlement

I went back to the beginning recently, and read about the misogynist, the coward, the racist, and the guy who won't take "No" for an answer.

And I found it striking. Partially because a few things have happened:

1. I stopped going to church.
2. I'm not sure I want to date Christian guys anymore.
3. I encountered more than one man who is a husband, father and believer in Jesus Christ, and also spouts Red Pill Reddit language and rhetoric.

This last one, if I'm honest, leaves me feeling heartbroken and confused--I feel betrayed, somehow.

And that sort of leads me to today's topic, entitlement.

"Entitlement" feels like a hot button word that gets thrown around a lot, particularly in articles about Millenials and the job market. But what does "entitlement" mean in the context that I am writing about?

I turned to Google to find out what exactly people feel entitled to. The results were predictable and a bit dull--the short version is that people feel entitled to government benefits, such as:

Entitlement to medicare
Entitlement to social security
Entitlement to paternity leave
Entitlement to bank holidays

And the puzzling:

Entitlement to kill a mockingbird

My two favorite things to be entitled to:

Entitlement to wear kilt
Entitlement to tea breaks

Photo by George Redgrave

Sam Heughan in "Outlander" on Starz

Yes. One thousand and one times yes.

[Why has no one made a calendar of attractive, possibly shirtless men in kilts drinking tea? I would buy the hell out of that calendar.]

So here's my unofficial definition of entitlement:

Entitlement is an unwritten, unquestioned and often unconscious law held to be inviolable and true, so that when the law is broken, the entitled person is justifiably angry, hurt, and vengeance-seeking.

[And its converse: Entitlement is an unwritten, unquestioned and often unconscious law held to be inviolable and true, so that when the law is upheld or enforced, the "victim" of the entitled person cannot justifiably be angry, hurt, or vengeance-seeking.]

I feel like entitlement, taking the posture and role of the victim, and not taking "No" for an answer are all tangled up together.

You learn the unspoken rules of a relationship, sometimes when it is in the process of ending, often after it has already ended. In one of my relationships, the unspoken rule was: You are not allowed to leave.

Entitlement is the unspoken law that leads to violence.

You see, I don't think anger, or the pain at the heart of anger, causes violence. There's another step there, another component--

The man doesn't kick the dog because the boss yelled at him. The man kicks the dog because he believes he has the right.

Let me give a simple, everyday example:

The law: A woman must always graciously and without rancor accept a compliment from a man. [Especially if he is a stranger]

It's funny, really. It's violence wrapped up in "You're beautiful." And what's even funnier is that the violation of this law is already presumed, the compliment followed immediately with, "I can give you a compliment" or "That's a compliment you know," before the woman even has time to react--the hatred trailing so closely on the heels of love.

And it's not just strangers.

I've thought a lot about the disparate rage that men have directed at me--from the first emotionally abusive relationship I had in my early 20s, to more recent experiences. I think about a story that a friend once told me.

He was a friend of the family. And he had a crush on her, despite an age difference of some 20 years (she was in college, he was in his 40s or 50s). He was giving her a ride, but she had brought a friend along--probably for safety.

And for whatever reason, he was angry with her. Angry because she brought a friend. Angry because this wasn't going according to plan. Angry because she didn't reciprocate his feelings. Angry.

And he threw acorns at her.

In the scene I imagine, there is nothing playful about it. He is looking down, not making eye contact. Scuffing his shoes against the dirt. Casually picking up an acorn. Half-heartedly throwing it. The petulant anger of a 10 year-old in the body of a middle-aged man.

There's another guy that I know. And he's one of the good ones. But I was recently struck anew by the memory of something he once said about my writing. I was struck by how passive-aggressive it was, this single comment. Rage, buried deep.

I laughed it off, initially. "He's just intimidated," I thought.

It's always just some guy. Throwing acorns.

I have no desire to date an acorn-thrower. But if even the good guys are like that--I don't know. It breaks something open inside of me.

I wonder if entitlement is at the heart of misogyny--these unspoken laws:

"You don't respect me": You must respect me
"You don't give a s*** about my intentions": You must give me the benefit of the doubt at all times, and forever.

It's not anger. Because anger doesn't cause abuse. It's not pain. Because there are many, many men (and women) who experience intense, searing, heart-rending pain and yet fail to abuse anyone.

It's not that they rage--it's that they feel justified in their cruelty.

I'm trying to avoid dating abusive guys.

Undateable: Why Single Christian Guys Are All Dented Cans - The Coward

Aristotle on bravery in "Nicomachean Ethics," from a translation by Terence Irwin

Welcome to my series on dented cans AKA single Christian guys who are undateable (to me!). 

After tackling the fluffy, soft as a guinea pig's butt cheeks topic of misogyny, we are now moving onto a much less potentially inflammatory topic: cowardice. 

[I swear, I am literally drawing these topics out of a jar. Swear to Blog.]

Now, you may see "coward" and "cowardice" and think, "I know where she's going with this!" And I bet you two pounds of canned beets that you're wrong (I hate beets. Hate 'em). 

You see, I too am familiar with the diatribes, written and otherwise, urging Christian dudes to just step up to the complementarian gender roles plate and ask a girl out already. I mean c'mon! How hard can it be? Think of all those lovely, eligible, extremely single Christian girls who are not too busy writing wistful letters to their future husbands to say "Yes" to dinner and a PG movie with you (and who if you play your cards right, might even agree to marry you after the third date!).  

This is not that blog. If you want to read (or hear) about how Christian men should stop being such [women?] already and just ask a girl out, you can go here, here, or here. And good dating to you, sir or madam.

The truth is, I'm as ambivalent about this topic as a single Christian woman could possibly be. I feel like the "Be a man and ask her out" and "Be a woman and wait for him to make the first move" setup smells awfully like the traditional gender roles that have traditionally kept women in a one-down position of power in adult relationships (such as those between a boyfriend and girlfriend or husband and wife). 

Just speaking personally, if my church wants to reinforce these gender roles--you know, the ones where men get the final say on all decisions, men lead and women follow, men love and women submit, etc.--then I also want a "real man" who will carry me 20 miles in 5 feet of snow so that I don't get my dainty feet wet, who will bring home the bison while I sit at home sipping tea and refining my embroidery skills, and who has the physique of Chris Hemsworth and goes shirtless at all times. Just saying. 

So, no. This is not a blog about how Christian guys are cowards for not asking girls out. I really can't speak for any one guy's motivation for not asking any one girl out. The closest I can get is that he doesn't want to. The whys beyond that are beyond me and my personal scope of knowledge. However, if someone wanted to write a blog about this, I would support him or her at least 101%. 

And now to get back to my subject: Cowardice. Merriam Webster unhelpfully defines cowardice as "the absence of courage." I have a different definition, which I will expound here, at length (you lucky readers, you).

I define cowardice as deliberately hurting, humiliating, abusing, harming, putting down, or bullying someone from a position of power, privilege, or advantage (usually because you can and because it makes you feel good, (read, more powerful)). 

A story: 

I was working in a small business packing and shipping books for a living. I had long thought that the office manager had a crush on me (it wasn't reciprocal). 

So one day we were particularly busy, everyone was present, and I was packing and shipping the heck out of some books. The OM became irate and started yelling at me for overpacking the boxes. 

He took out some of the books that I had already packed and threw them (well, maybe he placed them) on my desk. 

He yelled at me in front of everyone: in front of my boss (his boss too) and in front of my coworkers. 

I was so angry. I confronted him the next day and told him I was not okay with what he did. He admitted to "being a huge jerk" and said he had actually been angry at another coworker who was not me.

This incident has always stuck with me for some reason. I think it's because when I thought back to the power dynamics of the situation, there was no one else in the room who would have been safe to yell at. He couldn't yell at our boss. He couldn't yell at my married female coworker or either of my male coworkers. 

I was it. 

The only way I can explain it is that liking me gave him some kind of carte blanche to vent his anger on me--

Or perhaps I was just the least powerful person in that room. 

I wish I could say that this was an isolated incident. That I've never before or since had a male boss/coworker/supervisor with romantic interest in me treat me with disrespect and anger because I rejected him. That I've never again had a man humiliate me, abuse me, condescend to me, or shame me under the guise of "just doing his job." 

I wish I could say I have never felt trapped in a job in which a man repeatedly violated my boundaries and made me feel profoundly unsafe. 

You see--here's what I don't get about abuse in our current culture: 

All the shame accrues to the victim: "Why didn't she leave him when he hit her?", "Why didn't you walk away?", "What were you thinking dating him in the first place?"

Why are we neglecting to call out the abusers and the bullies for the cowards that they are? I see nothing as more cowardly than punching out a woman who is half your size or using your position of power as a white, male, conservative blogger to further shame rape victims into silence (I'm looking at you, Matt Walsh). 

I fail to understand why Ray Rice dares to show his face in public while Janay Rice fields questions about why she stayed.

Somehow the definition of "being a man" still includes dominating women and treating them as objects to be controlled. Slap her around and you're a "man," not a coward.

After the incident above, I left that job soon after. I was afraid. I didn't want to become OM's emotional punching bag merely because he had a romantic interest in me. I felt like the most likely target, and I had no way to predict that there would be no future incidents--what if he had a really bad day? What if the mice ate all the books or I packed books into boxes in a way that just didn't suit him or the sound of me hitting the "s" key repeatedly started jangling his nerves? These things are impossible to predict. 

This is what I'm having trouble wrapping my head around. That abusers abuse because they can, because they want to, and because it makes them feel good.

He yelled at me because he could.

[Little to no risk to himself: If he yelled at the boss, he would risk getting fired. If he yelled at a male coworker, he might risk getting punched.]

He yelled at me because he wanted to.

[Anger feels bad.]

He yelled at me because it made him feel better.

[Letting anger out feels good.]

In the nearer past, a man viciously attacked and shamed me at work. I'm still traumatized by what happened. 

But here's the thing: 

He used what power he had to punish me, to put me down, to degrade me and "put me in my place" and it made him feel good. If not that, I'm sure it made him feel better--more empowered, more in control.

I also knew, based on past experience (I'd been to this rodeo before), that this was part of a pattern of abuse: His actions signaled to me that this could and probably would happen again: anytime he felt disempowered, received a nasty letter from the IRS, or felt angry about something else going on in his life--

It wouldn't matter. How I did my job wouldn't matter. What I said or did wouldn't matter. If he wanted to take out his anger out on me, he would find a reason.

Imagine that being your everyday, working reality: stretches of rainbows! and sunshine! punctuated only by abuse for no other reason than he "felt like it."

A coward will not confront his boss about injustice or mistreatment, but he will take it out on someone weaker than he is. In fact, he feels justified in doing so and often feels like a victim himself.

That's the problem with cowards. They are too smart to attack someone who has more power than they do, because they know they will suffer the consequences. They don't even much care for engaging an equal. But someone who is "weaker"? Perfect. 

For whatever reason, cowardly men also seem to feel perfectly justified taking out their anger on women who have romantically rejected them. Often, they take on the mantle of "victim" (of society, women, the government, their boss) to justify their behavior and deny their own power and culpability:

"I wouldn't be such an asshole if a woman hadn't broken my heart."
"I was a nice guy until I got rejected for the 20th time."

So, that leads to the question, how do you deal with a coward? 

Directly. To his face. Tell him in no uncertain terms that his behavior is unacceptable.

There's a great book called Verbal Judo about conflict and communication. In it, he talks about three kinds of people: nice people, difficult people, and wimps. You can guess who the cowards are. He recommends calling wimps out in public or confronting them in private (not recommended unless you are in a position of authority). 

Faced with real power, a coward will back down 100% of the time. It's that cliche you see in movies: the underdog can't take it anymore and fights back, leaving the bully a blubbering mess. 

There's some truth to that.  

This is not about playing nice, conflict resolution between equals, or fighting fair. Cowards never fight fair, so watch your back and enlist the help of an older brother or sister if necessary. Here are some possible responses:

"I will not tolerate being spoken to like that."

"Stop it."

"Back off."

Make yourself look as big and threatening as possible. Pretend you're at Yosemite and he is a brown bear. Show that you will not be intimidated and he will scuttle away with his tail between his legs.

Remember, he is not looking for an equal fight. He only abuses those he perceives to be weaker or more vulnerable than he is and will probably be shocked if you actually fight back.

Or you could just punch him in the face (I take no legal responsibility if you decide to take this route but I'll probably be cheering for you from the sidelines).

I jest. But in all seriousness, watch out for the coward. I had a lot of difficulty processing what happened to me until I started looking at it from the lens of power. To you, it might be a conflict between equals, but to him, it's all about making you feel small by any means available (shame, condescension, repeating negative things other people have said about you, attacking your character and personality, blaming you for everything, etc.). You become an object of uncontrolled hatred and rage.

The crux of what makes Christian guys undateable is that their actions often indicate that they don't view women as human beings worthy of equal respect.

Cowards don't respond to rejection very well (how would you feel if some inferior object rejected you?). And neither do some Christian guys. More on that later.

The glass jar has yet to speak on what I'll be writing about next. Till then.

Next: The Myth of Persistence