Let me ask you a very simple, direct question: What does it mean to express vulnerability if you are a woman?
Please pause for a moment to think about this.
Now, in the current context of everything becoming politics, I pose another question: What does it mean to express vulnerability if you are a man?
(Once again, please pause to think.)
And finally, I ask: What does it mean to express vulnerability if you are a human being?
Was there a difference in responses to each of those questions? Because there shouldn’t be.
I’ve seen it, you’ve seen it, we’ve all seen it: Apparently, if a man feels or expresses vulnerability around others, he is weak. Less masculine. And what does this mean for respectability politics? Women often suffer from the harmful rhetoric we find in respectability politics, whether it be shaming a woman for her clothing choice, relationships, manner of walking, talking, presenting herself … the list goes on.
But for men, respectability is almost an entirely different ball game that seems to be stubbornly tied to their masculinity. “Be a man,” sons, brothers, and nephews are told. “Don’t throw like a girl. Don’t hit like a girl. Don’t scream like a girl. Be a man.”
In short, a man’s manhood is the most valuable aspect of his identity. What are you if not masculine? Who are you if not seen as, “the man?”
The question of what we allow ourselves to tie masculinity to is a simple yet astoundingly provocative one.
This was not more clear to me than when I once overheard my relative exclaim, “What is he, a girl?” when my mother insisted my elder brother wear sunblock before stepping out into the sweltering heat. Or when a male friend of mine felt embarrassed to be the “only boy” in a yearbook photo taken of my group of friends at the time. Or when I overheard my nephew talking about how he felt less respected by people around him because he had lost some of his muscle mass by not going to the gym as often.
If certain situations result in men feeling less masculine, there is more than just his masculinity at stake. It is the very security of his identity that is threatened in this world where we tie far too much to a made-up notion of manliness, hurting men and women alike.
When allies speak about the woes of the patriarchy and the danger it poses to women’s overall life experiences on a systemic level, one of the most prominent opposing arguments to be faced with is “men have problems, too.” The truth is, middle-aged white men, specifically, have the highest suicide rates out of every demographic in the world. In 2021, males accounted for about 80% of all suicides.
It is a jarring statistic that I haven’t heard enough honest, respectful discussion around.
But is this something that can be used to defer talk about the danger of the patriarchy? Is this something that negates the fact that discriminatory gender roles and obscure attachments of positions in society to gender -- yes, all genders -- is, in fact, dangerous and must be stopped?
It is not unimportant to consider women’s plight. Women are a discriminated group worldwide, taken advantage of on a systemic level. There are taxes and bans on our bodily functions. Stigmas around our abilities at home, in our workplaces, and schools. Dehumanizing and sexualizing views that run rampant throughout cultures that result in violence, forced marriage, and trafficking. These are all real issues. Discussing how the patriarchy harms us is not only important; it is necessary, integral to human survival and societal progression. For how can we continually raise a hand against the people responsible for giving human life?
But it must also be instated, reinstated, and reinstated again that women fighting against the patriarchy does not mean that only women are hurt by the patriarchy. The patriarchy hinders and carves into the souls of us all, by convincing us that we are meant to live by roles decided by others in ways that worked best for primitive lifestyles in the earliest of civilizations in select cultures that, through imperialization and forced migration, has reigned dominant over many of us.
When we blindly submit ourselves to flawed, imperfect human interpretation of what life experiences can be, ignorance wins. The patriarchy wins.
A young boy should not be taught that masculinity is the sole tool needed to gain respect in the world around him. A grown man should not be afraid of crying in front of loved ones for fear of what this means for his personhood or identity.
We are not merely subject to anyone’s ideas of who we are or aren’t allowed to be. To display vulnerability, to cry, to scream, to worry, to feel, is a part of the human experience. And the human experience has no gender.
There is not a “but” needed after the sentence “fight the patriarchy because women deserve better.” It is forever an “and” situation. “Women deserve better and men deserve better, too.”
All I ask is that you remember the “and.”
