Calling All Dudes
Bring it in, fellas. Listen up.
I’ve walked the streets of New York City alone after midnight without fear. I have jogged along the beach in Los Angeles under a full moon, by myself. I get in my car at all hours of the day and night, concerned only about not closing the seatbelt in the door.
I take these things for granted. Until recently, it never occurred to me that my lack of fear is the result of male privilege.
I’m a six-foot, two-inch tall white guy. In my adult life, I’ve ranged from fit to overweight, but the width of my shoulders and my upright, chest-out posture has remained constant. When I walk down the street, I look like someone not wise to mess with. The odds of anything happening to me physically that I do not expressly permit are barely measurable. I take these facts for granted also.
I’ve never contemplated how to carry my car keys so they could be used as a weapon if necessary. I’ve never searched my house for possible intruders after entering.
The only things I am afraid of are things I let myself be afraid of. I am in complete control of that aspect of fear; no one has ever been in my life who imposed a sense of fear upon me. Again: privilege.
Over the past few years, I have become increasingly aware that the world I experience is quite different from the world others live in. Sure, I’ve always known about the Haves, the Have-Somes, and the Have-Nots. It’s my lack of fear that I’ve come to realize is pretty rare. I understand now how fortunate I am to be relatively fearless.
Now I See
Despite my own experience, I have been aware of sexual assault. I read the news. I listen to friends talk about their experiences. I lost count of the number of seasons of Law & Order: Special Victims Unit I’ve watched. Still, for a long time, I considered what I read and heard and saw atypical.
I’m awake now. I see clearly that women have been assaulted, objectified, and oppressed my entire life, and for far longer than that.
I think it was Brock Turner’s story that jolted me awake. Then Bill O’Reilly, the Pussy Grabber in Chief, and Roger Ailes. I was kind of stunned as all that unfolded, blinking deer-in-the-headlights like until the Supreme Court nominee hearing last week. The contrast between Dr. Christine Blasey Ford’s entirely credible testimony and Brett Kavanaugh’s dodgy, belligerent, and teary rebuttal was finally enough to force me into action.
But what action?
What can I do to change all this? It’s tempting to say “not much” — especially since the oppression of women is all around us. It’s overwhelming to consider the scope, the pervasiveness of the messages that bombard us every day, all telling us in one way or another that it’s normal and acceptable that women are treated and considered the way they are. It’s everywhere. And if it’s overwhelming to me, a white guy who can think about these problems at my leisure, I can barely imagine what it’s like for women to get through a day with the deck stacked against them. When I think about it, I think “there’s no way I would put up with that shit!” … which is of course because dudes are allowed to get spitting mad. Women who try to speak out are more often than not ignored, doubted, shamed, or all of the above.
I have wrestled with this idea of what I can do … mostly because I was thinking about it as an action I can take that has a beginning and end, such as taking out the trash or doing the dishes. What I came to understand is there is no box to check. If I want to make a difference in the world for women, it must become my new approach to life. I can’t do something — I must be something.
What I Can Do
I can set a positive example for my two sons.
I can make choices about the type of media I expose my sons to, and steer them away from the Porky’s-like content I consumed in the 1980s.
I can correct and educate my boys when they (unwittingly or not) behave in ways that perpetuate the patriarchy.
I can intervene when I see women being abused verbally or physically.
I can vote for candidates and ballot issues that aim to combat the oppression of women. (Often that will mean voting for women.)
I can be mindful of my responses to things that may be affected by a lifetime of societal training to consider women “less than.”
I can keep fighting against my own social programming.
I can amplify women’s voices through social media and IRL conversations.
I can talk and I can write.
I can see.
I can listen.
I can believe.
What You Can Do
You can do the same stuff, dude. It’ll take practice. You’ll slip up and fall into old thought patterns and behaviors. This won’t be like flipping a switch. Be mindful of when you slip and re-double your efforts.
Fair warning: there may not be a fundamental change to this situation in your lifetime. I hope there will be, but it’s naive to believe we can change thousands of years of bias in a hurry. Our combined actions won’t stamp out the oppression or attempted oppression of women any more than racism has been eradicated.
What I can promise you is this: if you don’t adjust your behavior (and I’m talking to all you guys), nothing will change. And it must change.
