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.

Why I Kept Quiet About Being Sexually Harassed

Recently, women in the Los Angeles improv community did the unthinkable: They named names--on facebook, no less.

One man in particular was credited with so many stories of sexual harassment that I'm tempted to think his daily schedule goes something like:

8:00AM: Wake up
8:30AM-8:30PM: Sexually harass women
8:30PM: Tinder date
12:00AM Go to sleep

[Personal connection: I was matched with this gentleman on an online dating platform. We never actually communicated.]

I kid you not. This crap has been going on for years. And women are finally speaking up. It's incredible to watch--equal parts inspiring and horrifying--inspiring, to see the support that these women are receiving from the community--horrifying, that this guy got away with sexually harassing so many women for so long.

It made me think about my own stories--about why I didn't speak up about being harassed. I've written before about the burden of secrecy: How women are so often burdened with keeping things quiet--don't cause trouble, don't make a scene, don't smear someone's reputation, don't accuse someone (particularly a powerful, talented, or likable someone) of misconduct.

There are so many valid reasons for keeping silent. And until the culture changes to one that prioritizes victims over perpetrators, it will always be extremely difficult to come forward.

[Ironically, even as I write this, I'm running through in my mind all the possible ways that the men I write about could be identified by readers.]

Story #1:

When I was in college, I wrote a blog for the school's marketing department about my experiences in the honors program.

I was connected to a staff member at the college who would post the blogs that I wrote every week. He was a man in his 40s (we'll call him RC)

At first, it was great. I loved blogging. Loved it. Because writing is fun.

Then, things started getting weird. From the beginning, RC and I had bantered back and forth via email. He was eccentric, borderline unprofessional and didn't act his age, but I didn't think too much about it. I knew he was in a relationship, and that made me feel safe, as if he couldn't be flirting with me (plus, I was a student).

Things took an odd turn when he created a facebook profile in the name of my college and started leaving weird comments on other people's pages and messaging me nonsensical things, to the point that I blocked him on facebook.

Then, he started harassing me about not sending him new blogs to post every week, repeatedly sending me pushy, sarcastic and vaguely threatening emails.

Something about the emails made me deeply uncomfortable and fearful. I asked him to stop. I used the word "Please." He didn't stop. I asked him again. I felt like no matter what I said, he wouldn't stop sending me harassing emails.

Conclusion: I stopped writing. I concluded that my blog made him feel as if he "knew me" or had some kind of personal connection to me. The only way to stay safe was to stop writing.

Blogging was something that brought joy and meaning to my life, but I stopped doing it--all because of this one guy.

Now that I think about it, this guy was on the clock when he sent me those emails--so he was basically being PAID to harass me. That just feels wrong on so many levels.

So, why didn't I say something to someone? Here are the reasons I came up with:

1. I was afraid that my bantering emails with him would be considered "encouragement"--that I had brought this on myself by not being completely professional. In other words: it was my fault that I led him on.

2. I had enjoyed the (seemingly harmless) attention from him. (My fault, again.)

3. I perceived those at the college I could have gone to for help as either distant or ineffectual. I couldn't imagine them helping me in any real way.

4. What about his reputation? Would I be putting his job in jeopardy?

5. Although our online interactions felt inappropriate and unsafe, he never said or did anything overtly sexual. So although I felt like he was both hitting on me AND engaging in some kind of weird power play, I really had no "proof."

Reading the accounts from women in the improv community, I'm struck by how many stopped doing what they loved because they felt unsafe. That makes me f***ing furious.

Story #2:

When I first moved to Los Angeles, I worked on a low-budget feature film for no pay.

At our very first crew meeting, I started talking to the editor, asking him about what system he used, etc. (I was interested in editing at the time). Later, he visited the set. We talked more, and he offered to let me help cut the film once it entered post-production. He had worked on several films by a director that I greatly admired, so I thought this was pretty cool.

Later that same night, I had to drive an actor home. When he offered to accompany me and I didn't immediately jump on the opportunity, but instead asked other people, he started acting like a petulant five year-old. I swear, this man in his early 40s started pouting and crossed his arms over his chest like a small child. He was angry with me and would barely talk to me. I had no idea what was going on, but something didn't feel right.

Then, early the next morning, I got the email, and my heart started pounding faster.

He explained that he had fallen in love with me from the very first night we met, felt a deep connection to me that was not just sexual (e.g., I'm not just interested in sex!), explained he had been angry because he thought I didn't want to be alone with him, something something something, hoped we could still work together.

I responded that I was not interested, but hoped we could still work together as colleagues. I didn't tell anyone about this email, even though it stressed me out. I thought I could handle it on my own and save him any embarrassment.

That same day, the producer called me over and said that I had to go pick up the editor from the train station the next day (the producer had no idea about the email). I was then forced to go pick this guy up and spend at least an hour alone with him. I can remember how he casually put his arm up around and on my headrest in the car as if we were at a movie and he was about to make a move. Under the circumstances, it made me uncomfortable. I tried to pretend like nothing had happened.

Later, other members of the crew told me how he was in love with me and ranting angrily about how much time I was spending with another guy onset, "I'm gonna f***ing kill him," he was saying about this guy, repeatedly.

One guy half-jokingly suggested that I get a restraining order.

I noticed that he had a camcorder and seemed to be filming me, but I wasn't sure. Later, after we wrapped, he sent me an email with pictures (screenshots from video?) that he had taken of me unawares. I never responded.

A week or so after shooting finished, I went into the production office to reconcile expenses, and the producer mentioned that the editor had said he wanted me to help out with editing.

I said, "I don't think I can do that." The producer was like, "Okay, cool." But then I tried to explain why.

"Oh, he has a crush on you?"

It was a little more than that. I told him I would forward him the email. That the email was funny.

"I don't think it's funny."

So, why didn't I (initially) say anything?

1. I felt like it was my problem to handle and that I could handle it.

2. I thought that after I responded to his confession of love with a professionally worded "let's just be colleagues" that he would leave me alone and respect my boundaries.

3. I thought he would be embarrassed and shamed if I told someone, and I didn't want him to be embarrassed or shamed (I put myself in his shoes).

4. I used humor to minimize how unsafe it made me feel.

Sadly, practically every single woman has a story like this--not these exact details, no, but the same dynamic.

Writing it all out like this feels clinical and distant--but it's helped me see that men who sexually harass women are not playing by the rules--

We ascribe shame to them (normal, healthy shame that you should feel for violating someone else's boundaries) when nothing of the sort actually exists.

We mentally and emotionally put ourselves into the shoes of the harasser--"Wow, I would feel awful if dozens of women accused me of sexually harassing them"--without realizing that they exist in a world where their actions are perfectly acceptable, understandable, normal, justifiable.

[Exhibit A, the same guy above who has dozens of sexual harassment incidents to his name is still by all reports setting up dates with women in the improv community via apps like Tinder, Bumble, and Hinge. I'm sure he feels just "Terrible, terrible!" about all the pain he has caused. 'Cause those are the actions of a man overwhelmed with shame. Right. I just feel so bad for him and all the humiliation he must be going through. My heart goes out to him.]

This plays out in the way that women respond to harassment. I assume, "If I say no, stop, I'm not interested, he will stop"--sometimes realizing too late that when I said "No," all he heard was static.

In this case, if there is no support from other people, and particularly from those in authority, then my best option is to disappear, because then at least he doesn't have access to me.

Think about it. Women are disappearing because that is their best option. It can be a kind of personal, professional, spiritual or creative death.

After cutting ties with an abuser, I have not only had to heal from the relationship itself, but also from the ways in which people responded (or didn't) to my story.

One person that I reached out to immediately after a traumatic incident was adamant about remaining neutral and hearing "his side of the story."

I get it. I feel like I get it. But to remain neutral is to side with the abuser. Every time. And I know that this is just one more layer to this wound that I'm going to have to deal with.

Intellectually, I totally get it. But emotionally, it's devastating.

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 Myth of Persistence

Photo by quinn.anya

So I've started doing this thing where I'm completely honest with men. Why?

Well, for one, it amuses me and my dark sense of humor. I get to say fun things like:

"I'm not interested in pursuing anything romantic with you."
"Hitting on one person on the fb status of another person is kind of a douche move."
"You fondled my earring at a BBQ and it made feel uncomfortable and disrespected."
"When you grabbed me from behind around my ribs directly under my breasts [yeah, that happened], I felt unsafe and violated."

Yep. That's right. Just waiting for the marriage proposals to roll on in.

For another, I'm done protecting a man's feelings at the expense of my own personal safety.

And that brings me to the topic for today in dented cans: THE MYTH OF PERSISTENCE. And yes, it definitely deserves to be in all caps.

There's this weirdly longstanding myth out there that women want men who will continue to pursue them even in the face of blatant rejection (see also, "The Notebook").

You say, "I just want to be friends."
He hears, "I just want to be friends until I change my mind and decide we should definitely get married and have five kids."

You say, "I'm not interested in you in that way."
He hears, "I'm not interested in you in that way, but you should definitely grab me and try to kiss me."

You say, "I like someone else."
He hears, "He's probably a douche-bag--so you still have a shot!"

To the men that believe this myth, "No, I'm not interested" means "Try harder. You're not trying hard enough. Persist long enough and I will say 'Yes.'"

Except it doesn't mean that.

No--when you persist in pursuing me after I have made my feelings clear, I can only assume that there is something wrong with you either emotionally or mentally. And the last thing in the world that I desire is to have an emotionally or mentally unstable man pursuing me, or worse, believing that I owe him something--a date, friendship, my time, a second chance.

In short, when a man will not take "No" for an answer, all my self-preservation instincts kick in, and all I want is for him to stay the **** away from me.

I feel fear and anger.

Fear--because if this man apparently can't understand or chooses not to understand the words that I use to communicate (perhaps if I did an interpretive dance?), who's to say what other boundaries of mine he won't violate due to this "misunderstanding"? If he has already violated my verbal boundaries and made me feel unsafe, there are still other boundaries he has yet to cross: emotional, spiritual, mental, physical.

But truthfully, I have trouble understanding the level of pure terror I feel when a man refuses to take "No" for an answer.

My best guess is that this is a dehumanizing experience--I am not a person to these men. I am the projection of all of their baggage about women. I "owe" him something--my body, my "Yes," a chance for him to prove that he is the man of my dreams and we are meant to be together-- In short, I cannot give consent because I am not fully human. His pursuit has very little do with me, and so much to do with the fantasy world he has created in his mind: A world in which I should say, "Yes."

At a certain point this fantasy becomes far more important than my humanity. And that is terrifying (cue visions of being chained up in a dungeon somewhere by a man who "just wants to love me," and is willing to wait as long as it takes for me to realize that).

My guess is that many men fail to understand this as well--they have never experienced fear for their personal safety in the context of romantic relationships, partially because women are not encouraged to pursue in the face of rejection, in fact, quite the opposite. Any romantic rejection is humiliating and shameful.

And what about "Not Leading Him On," that crime that women seem to be accused of at a substantially higher rate than men? Why do women so often take the path of least resistance, trying to "let him down easy." It goes back to fear, again. Women have been taught that saying "No" is not only rude, but also dangerous.

A stranger came up to me in the 99 cent store and told me that I was "beautiful." He followed this up immediately with, "That's a compliment you know."

Of course, I enjoy compliments most when they are followed by vaguely hostile or threatening statements. I also enjoy being put in a situation in a public space where I am expected to thank a stranger for harassing me or be subjected to the accusation of "ungrateful b___ who can't take a compliment."

Unfortunately for me, as a woman, I fear for my physical safety. Therefore, I try not to engage with men in an aggressive or potentially escalating manner.

The same goes for turning down men who are romantically interested in me--but as it turns out, it matters very little what I say:

I've had different Christian guys: Corner me in a car and demand repeatedly that I go out on a date with him, then text me to apologize and tell me that he really "respects" me; Tell me my job is on the line unless I let him back into my life (as a friend, of course); Ignore my request to be "just friends" by grabbing me and dipping me for a kiss, all while citing the scene in "Hitch" when Will Smith and Kevin James accidentally make out ("You lean in half way, then wait for her to go the other half").

Then there's the anger--yeah, being seen as not quite human kind of pisses me off. And there's the icky, would rather not think about it, idea that my biracial, "exotic" looks only contribute to the extent to which men are able to project their own fantasies onto my very real, non-white (but still human!) body.

The intersection between race and perceived sexual availability is a fraught one at best--but whether it applies here or not, let me just say:

I don't want to be touched, grabbed, or groped in public by men I don't know.
If I say I don't want to date you, I mean exactly that, and I don't care to repeat myself.
I am in no way obligated to explain to you why I am not interested. I owe you no justification whatsoever.
If you won't take "No" for answer, consider yourself banned from my life.

So why is it that Christian men are so horrible at grasping the concept of women as fully human?

The word "consent" is quite the buzzword these days, but I believe there are many Christian men who do not grasp the concept:

Consent (or if you prefer, "Respect") isn't just about sex. It's about respecting the boundaries of another human being--seeing them as fully human--in every single interaction, romantic or not.

There are certain things that "Nice" Christian guys tend to believe or say that are inconsistent with consent:

One, believing that if you go to the trouble of asking a girl out, she should say, "Yes," just because you took a risk and put yourself out there.

Two, if you ask a girl out and she says, "Yes" even though she is not ultimately interested, then she is leading you on.

Three, you are a "Good Christian Man" but every girl you ask out says, "No," meaning that there is something wrong with them, not you. You are a victim of feminism, shallow female whims, or unfair discrimination.

Four, if a girl says "No" before the first date or after five dates, you deserve a full, complete, and honest explanation as to why.

Five, women don't actually know what they want. They read romance novels and "Fifty Shades of Grey" and then complain that they don't want to be raped, beaten, sexually harassed, or coerced into sex. What gives?

One and two are obviously contradictory, but I have heard both. Trying to control whether or not someone says "Yes" or "No" to a date is contrary to the idea of consent--and trying to control a person's motivations in general feels fishy.

For three and four, being rejected sucks, obviously. But believing that someone else is "wrong" for rejecting you or that the the entire female population is delusional because they are not romantically interested in you is also contrary to the idea of consent--particularly to the idea that a woman should be able to choose to date or not date someone for any reason. Yes, any reason, even one you think is shallow or stupid.

Also contrary to consent is manipulating a person into unwanted contact of any kind.

For five--well, perhaps that is the subject of another blog post, but it boggles the mind that women are still not allowed to be complex or contradictory beings with a freedom of choice and personal autonomy that transcends one particular sexual fantasy or choice of reading material. "Women don't know what they want" seems highly correlated with the myth of persistence--"Women don't know what they want" but "I (a man) know what they should want." Gross.

In conclusion, if a guy will not take "No" for an answer he is, in my opinion, undateable.

Up next in the Dented Cans series, a post on entitlement.

F*** A Nerd: A Solution to the "Sexodus" Crisis

Ladies, there is a crisis in the land: Cowed and oppressed by the forces of radical feminism, heterosexual men everywhere are checking out of the dating scene and checking into video games and online porn. You might have heard about this crisis, this "Sexodus." It is a terrible, terrible scourge of biblical proportions (the 11th plague) afflicting women everywhere.

But luckily I have come up with a solution:

F*** a nerd.

Find the most pathetic specimen of masculinity possible. The more he loathes himself, the better. The longer he hasn't showered, the more he needs the redemption that only your body can provide. He lives in his mom's basement and watches online porn for 12 hours a day? Perfect.

Throw away those unrealistic and cruel expectations for men manufactured by feminism and romantic comedies. You say you want a man who will treat you with respect, and yet you read "50 Shades of Grey." Twice. Clearly, you don't know what you want.

Plus, you think you're so hot. Well, let me tell you, your expectations are way, way too high. Are you Jennifer Lawrence, Taylor Swift, or Beyonce? No? Then you are fugly at best. However, your female privilege has convinced you that you are all that, two Coach purses, and 54 pairs of shoes. You think you can get a "hot guy" with a job to commit to you. Good luck with that. 

Remember: You can always be replaced with porn and video games. Porn doesn't file false harassment charges. Porn doesn't nag at you to empty the dishwasher or get a job. Porn doesn't say "No" when it means "Yes." Porn doesn't only have sex with assholes. Porn doesn't smile at you one day and put you in the "friend zone" the next. Porn doesn't fight back. Chew on that.

Ladies, if you have sex with a nerd, he might just start to overcome the years of rejection and oppression he has experienced at the hands of our female-dominated society. Sure, he knows he really deserves a supermodel and the six figure job you got just because you are female, but the consolation prize of your subpar body will have to do for now.

Really, it's for the good of humanity, the continuation of the species, and a peaceful resolution to the war on men that's being raged in America.

If we are to end this crisis, drastic measures must be taken. So here's my advice:

Stop trying to get ahead at work. Turn down that promotion. You don't need that promotion. A man needs that promotion.

Stop being good at school [a female-created institution designed to make men feel incompetent and insecure].

Stop volunteering to lead at church. You don't need that leadership position. A man needs that leadership position. If a man stops coming to church, it's your fault for taking the leadership role that was rightfully his.

Stop having expectations for the men you sleep with. It's enough that he condescended to sleep with you in the first place, when he could have been playing Minecraft.

Stop complaining about sexual assault, sexual harassment, and sexism. Men are tired of hearing about it. You are only perpetuating the feminist myth that all men are rapists and pigs. Men will assume that asking you on a date will get them charged with assault.

Stop sending mixed messages. Either you want a real man who forcibly takes what he wants or you want a passive nice guy who treats you as an equal but never makes a move. You can't have both.

Women: the choice is simple. If you don't "lean back" and spread your legs, unemployed men drowning in self-pity who have given up on any semblance of personal hygiene are going to refuse to have sex with you.

Do you want to die single and alone? I didn't think so. Get out there, and start f***** as many undesirable and unattractive men as you possibly can. If you're lucky, one of them might even agree to marry you.

But don't count on it.


Inspirations:
Lysistrata by Eurpides
Matt Walsh
Article about the "Sexodus"

What you believe about race doesn't matter

I don't care if you're racist. 

Really. I don't. 

I don't care if Mel Gibson is anti-Semitic, I don't care if Alec Baldwin is homophobic, I don't care if you're racist. 

It's a moot point. 

Listen, I don't give a **** about your personal character. 

I care about what you say. 

When you say racist things, I care, because this about the content of your words, not the content of your character.

Whether or not you're "racist" or "sexist" or "homophobic" can be a question between you and God, or you and yourself, or you and your next-door neighbor, Bob. 

Go ahead. Search your heart. Send a team of resourceful and dedicated spelunkers into the caverns of your soul. And if in the end, you find not a single hateful thought toward anyone at any time for any reason related to gender, ethnicity, or sexual orientation, then great. I'm sure you'll sleep soundly tonight. 

But when you say, "Asian people always ____"

Or, "Gay people are ____" 

Or something about Us v. Them--

I care. Because words matter. Words like "bitch" or "slut" or "fag" or the N-word have power. They have history. They have baggage. 

So let's skip the wounded indignation, the part where you insist that there is nary a hate-mongering bone in your body:

Who me, a racist? Me, a homophobe? Me, a sexist? But I love women. My best friend is Asian. My favorite color is purple.

Why do I care?

I care because your words, whether you mean them or not, are part of a larger system of injustice.

I'm strongly with John Stuart Mill on this one: Say whatever you want to say. But saying whatever you want to say and then demanding freedom from censure because "I'm a good person" or "That's not what I meant" is the exact opposite of taking responsibility.

So let's skip the non-apology, the sorry-I'm-not-sorry: 

"I regret that you've mistaken me for someone who treats others poorly because of their race. You must have me confused with an actual racist. If you could only peruse my personal history at length, you would find that I've always treated every single person with the utmost respect, regardless of the color of their skin."

It may never be conscious. It may never be active. It might look nothing like hate. But you are making the world just a little bit worse. 

So, who cares if you're racist (or sexist)? You are participating in and perpetuating a system of discrimination, exclusion, prejudice, abuse, violence, hatred and death.

Like I said. Who cares.

Inspired by: 

What You Believe About Homosexuality Doesn't Matter

"But I don't have any power" or Why "privilege" is a dirty word

The more I'm not supposed to talk about something, the more I want to talk about it, so:

Privilege. Privilege. Privilege. PRIVILEGE!!!

The other day, some guy called my friend a "slut."

Now, it was all in good fun. [Not in good taste, perhaps, but certainly in good fun.]

Not to get into the semantics of it all, but my friend is not a "slut."

Guess what. He was using the term ironically.

I know. I KNOW. So freaking clever. I cannot even.

So--back to my story:

He called her a slut. [As is his God-given right.]

She objected to the term. [As is her God-given right. Assuming God grants rights for these sorts of things.]

"It was a joke."

[There's nothing worse than a girl who won't take a joke--especially if it concerns her sexual honor.]

As jokes go, I guess it was passable if a bit too easy [ha ha].

But besides being politically incorrect, what's wrong with playfully calling someone a slut?

Power.

That's right. You are implying that you (a man) have the power to make a value judgement (slut) about me (a woman) based on [the number of people I've slept with, the clothes I'm wearing, the way I carry myself, how I choose to interact with you, etc.]

Playful? Yes. Affectionate? Perhaps. Power play? Absolutely.

"But I don't have any power."

To determine if you have any power, ask yourself:

If the tables were turned and a woman called me a slut (in jest), would the word carry the same negative connotations [mean the same thing]?

The icky, uncomfortable truth:

Women, historically, have been shamed for their sexuality in ways that men never have. Words like "slut" have been used and are used to shame and control women and their sexuality.

[Notice that this is not about what you actually believe. Maybe you think women should never be shamed for their sexuality, or maybe this is all part of your plan to subtly shame even women who fit within your narrow definitions of "not a slut," in which case, bravo.]

I realize this is not your fault.

But realize that you have the power in this situation.

It's not fair. It's not right. It's not your fault. I get it.  You're poor and have no health insurance. You take the bus everyday because you don't have a car. You're uncomfortable with the idea of power. You voted for the other guy. You've worked hard for every break you ever got. You have a lot of black friends. You don't go through your day thinking, "I wonder what's on Netflix, AND OH BY THE WAY, who can I oppress next?"

It's uncomfortable. It's unfortunate. It's unfair.

But I'm not sorry for pointing it out. I'm not sorry at all.



More on privilege:

White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack

The Male Privilege Checklist

Facebook & The Outrage Machine

I can't BELIEVE something like this would happen in AMERICA!!!!

WHERE HAVE ALL THE REAL MEN GONE!!???

Proof that all politicians are SLIME and a giant BOIL on the face of humanity!!

Sound familiar? 

Welcome to the outrage machine. The only rule of the outrage machine: Be angry. Very, very angry.

And there's a lot to be angry about, in this world. Just look at the news: rape, murder, genocide, natural disaster, child neglect and abuse, and on and on. Too many terrible things, too few Twitter characters to contain them all.

Outrage is often the best response--or if not the best, then the most instinctive.

That being said, I'm taking a step back and looking at outrage from several different angles.

Outrage as drug

The dirty little secret about outrage is that it feels good. It feels right. It feels righteous.

Surely righteous anger has been the catalyst for many courageous and revolutionary movements throughout history.

Anger can rouse us from depression, from angst, from feeling like a victim, from passivity, from fear.

But what if it becomes a drug? What if outrage forges familiar neural pathways that we revisit over and over and over again?

Outrage as manipulation

A lot of the outrage on facebook (or other forms of social media) is manipulative, flat out. That doesn't make it right or wrong, but it does make it too easy--

Too easy to go to that place of outrage, to the chest-heaving, eye-dilating, fist-clenching, teeth-gritting, heart-racing automatic and autonomic response.

Some of us have that one facebook friend who functions as our own personal outrage machine. I used to have one of those. Then I blocked their feed. It was that simple. I had so much free time on my hands I took up knitting AND making pie crust from scratch. I was a much more peaceful person (not really).

It seems easy to acknowledge that certain status updates, links, articles, blog posts, etc. are specifically designed to elicit outrage. They manipulate our emotions to get a certain kind of response.

Outrage as money

It's weird to think of outrage as dollars and cents, but that's exactly what it is in click-baity journalism. Just think about it. Someone is manipulating one of your most powerful emotions to make money. [Oh wait, that's all advertising.] And again, this doesn't make outrage right or wrong. I would, however, question the motives of those peddling outrage for profit.

Outrage as narrative

Here's where it gets interesting (for me).

I'm worried that as outrage becomes a default response, we will begin to tune out the things that don't push our own personal outrage buttons. If it doesn't match our own particular "narrative of outrage," it doesn't register.

I'm concerned that many outrage narratives foster an "Us v. Them" mentality, not necessarily an "Us v. Rapists" mentality (Note: Rape = Bad) but an "Us v. Small Town Football" or "Us v. Republicans" or "Us v. The Idiots Who Voted for Obama."

There simply isn't enough outrage to go around. Even I, a feminist, have a limited supply (And I eat outrage for breakfast, like cheerios).

And the not-so-shocking truth about racism, or sexism, or homophobia, or many other social evils is that in real life, they're depressingly banal and hardly outrageous enough to earn a stint on Jerry Springer, let alone 45,634 shares on facebook.

"And now for a very controversial after school special wherein Connie's coworker rolls his eyes condescendingly when she offers to help him create a PDF in Microsoft Word."

Oh the humanity.

I'm more interested in the ordinary, the blase, the familiar and unquestioned. I want to interrogate the logic of sexism, of racism, of all kinds of violence and prejudice. 

I think there are "good" people who believe some pretty messed up things. I think there are good people who participate in and perpetuate a culture that I don't believe in, a culture that (honestly), I hate. To state it more blatantly, there are people that I like, people that I love or would have loved had I known them, who participate(d) in and perpetuate(d) a culture that I hate. 

And the "Us v. Them" binary starts to crumble.

So, to recap, the downsides of outrage:

• Outrage puts you in "fight or flight." [Which can be useful if you need to fight!]
• Repeatedly posting outrage click-bait might cause people to start tuning you out (or blocking your fb feed).
• Outrage creates "buttons," not stories. 
• Outrage is where nuance and subtlety go to die. 
• Outrage is exhausting

Humor as an alternative to outrage

I'm not saying that the opposite of outrage is bland amusement, or that rape jokes are always the best response to rape (although rape jokes can be one of the most subversive responses to rape culture, and no, "I'm going to rape you right now! Hahahahahaha" is not a subversive rape joke, or much of a joke, for that matter).

I'm saying that humor can accomplish what outrage cannot. It can turn things on their heads. It can offer a fresh perspective. It can tilt the world just enough that you see a piece of the sky that you've never seen before. It can feel like hope.

Which is perhaps a post for another time.

"That's Not Cool, Bro": Homosociality, Objectification and the Uses of Social Media in Rape Culture

I've been contemplating writing this for a while now. This is the "nice" version, believe it or not. The hide yo' wife, hide yo' kids, hide yo' husbands version is in the works.

Upfront disclaimer: I'm going to talk about rape. And feminism. And Twitter.

Maybe you've heard about the Steubenville, Ohio rape case. Maybe you haven't. You can read about it here or here, but if you don't care to, a few facts about what allegedly took place:

1. Two high school football players sexually assaulted a girl at a party.
2. Many other people were present.
3. Some of these other students / partygoers posted to YouTube or Twitter about the rape.
4. They expressed positive and/or approving thoughts and feelings about the rape [There's a YouTube video of a guy talking and laughing about it].

Now, I think you and I have at least a little bit of difficulty getting into the headspace of a rapist. We probably also have a problem getting into the headspace of anyone who would think of rape as a good thing.

Nevertheless, these people and these reactions exist, so let's think about it for a minute. Okay, more than a minute:

Why would someone think that rape is funny?

There's a lack of identification. There's a lack of empathy. There is perhaps a sense that the victim of rape deserves to be raped.

Then, think about the dynamics of two intersecting phenomena: homosocial approval and social media.

What is homosocial approval?

For the purposes of this blog, homosocial approval is explicit or implicit social approval from other dudes. In the case of Steubenville, this could be an over-identification with football, with high school social status, and with the approval that comes from other guys when you boast about your sexual conquests.

Of course, homosocial approval is not always negative. It can be very positive. But when combined with sexual violence and social media, it becomes something else entirely. See also this incident in which two high school boys took pictures of a girl as they assaulted her (because what's a sexual assault unless you can show pics to your friends later, amiright?).

Like most of us, I have borderline racist and misogynistic friends and/or acquaintances. [I'm sorry, is that harsh? You know what I'm talking about, though. Maybe it's because I have a lot of Christian friends (low blow).]

And the friendly misogynist-next-door--he's unlikely to ever rape anyone. However, he does continue to perpetuate the idea that women are objects. Or, that a woman's primary value is in how she looks. Or that she's fair game as long as she's legal. Or that a woman is responsible for a man's behavior. And that, my friend, is destructive.

I started writing this with a question: How do my male friends respond when their friend says something borderline racist/misogynistic? Does it bother him? Does he say something? Does he shrug it off? Does he laugh nervously?

I guess that was actually a series of questions.

I'm asking you, hypothetical guy friend, to do one thing: withhold your approval. Don't agree. Don't fist bump. Don't retweet. Don't hit "like."

Maybe the phrase "rape culture" makes you mad--because you believe that there is no such thing. That it's a phrase coined by feminists to victimize men. Fine. Forget that phrase. Call it whatever you want. Call it dude-thinks-rape-is-super-funny-in-youtube-video culture. I don't care.

And what about me? I'm female. Guys are supposed to be trying to impress me. Doesn't my approval or lack thereof count too?

It doesn't. Not in the same way. I'm not the target audience here. You try lecturing a guy on manners after he calls you a bitch for turning him down. Or giving a crash course on sexual harassment to the gentleman, and I use that term loosely, who won't take "No" for an answer. It's not gonna happen.

He doesn't care what I think. That crude joke was not for my benefit. It was for you. Not me.

So hey bro, dude, man, whatever. Do me a favor and don't laugh.

It's not that funny, anyway.

Dear Sort of Sexist Guy,

Hey there. How's it going? It's me. Yeah. We went to college together. We work together. I think I had a crush on you back in the 8th grade.

You were the one who told me in high school that most guys think that men are better than women--they just don't say it out loud. But you--you were above that kind of cowardice. "Think about it," you said, "Why are the best chefs in the world men?" I still can't argue with your unshakeable logic.

I feel a bit bad for you, Sort of Sexist Guy--the way political correctness has driven your kind underground, for the most part. You can't even post sexy pics of underage girls on facebook anymore without getting some kind of feminist flak. I mean, where's the harm in a little objectification? The sooner girls realize that they are primarily valued for their looks, the better.

I really have to admire your panache, Sort of Sexist Guy. You could be rocking a unibrow and a beer gut, but that doesn't stop you from making condescending comments about a woman's weight or how she's "let herself go."

Of course you "loooooove women." And yeah, you're sort of an a-hole, but in a good way. Cause you're a guy. And guys are a-holes.

At least you're not like Sort of Racist Guy or Sort of Misogynistic Guy. I'm never going to catch you ranting about how feminism has ruined the American dream or how the REAL reason you're such a jerk is that this one girl broke your heart this one time in the second grade...

You're just a little bit of a chauvinist. I get that. Now that I think about it, you're not half bad, Sort of Sexist Guy. Maybe we can hang out some time and you can tell me all about how if I only lost some weight and started reading challenging books, I could really make something of myself.

Well, it's been real. I sort of gotta go do some laundry.

Yours (sort of),
MT