A bisexual female friend recently wrote up how she got involved in activism for men's rights. It's an interesting story, posted below.
(Some of you are mutual friends and know who she is--please don't identify her, unless she gives the explicit go ahead.)
Note: as this topic can arouse heated emotions, please remember that rule here is to be kind and respectful at all times, even when others are behaving badly or trying to bait you.
"This morning someone asked me how I got into my crusade about abuse, particularly for male and LGBT victims. It sparked a cool conversation, so here is a bit of background, for anyone else who's curious.
Norah Vincent is a gold star lesbian journalist who lived as a man for over a year in order to research the differences between men's and women's experiences. She played the role of a guy named Ned, and wrote a truly incredible book, called Self-Made Man, about all the typical men's activities she experienced in character and her analysis of those experiences. One of the most interesting parts of her book, I think, is when she talks about dating as Ned. Straight women approached the date very much on their guard, as if they preemptively blamed her for the behaviour of their exes, and Vincent realized something profound: "Oh my god, do straight people think their shitty partners are reflective of the entire opposite sex??"
They definitely do. Here is what I've noticed.
I meet a lot of straight MRAs who have had unpleasant, toxic, or abusive partners, and they have decided that women are not good partners.
I meet a lot of straight feminists who have had unpleasant, toxic, or abusive partners, and they have decided that men are not good partners.
For my part, I'm an egalitarian bisexual, so I have seen the spectrum of human gender and dating behaviour from a very different angle than a lot of straight people. I have and have had incredible partners of both sexes and a variety of gender expressions. And I have had relationships with both men and women who ranged from unhealthy to outright abusive.
We as a society have a lot of assumptions about women and innocence, stemming from traditionalist stereotypes, size and strength differentials between men and women, and a variety of other misconceptions. As a result, we raise up the voices of abused straight women, including feminists who see abusive male exes as representative of men as a group, but we don't raise up the voices of abused men (or their radicalized members). The result is that we reinforce the idea that men treat women badly in relationships, writ large, but that women don't (or even can't) mistreat or abuse their partners. We also make no space for hearing or understanding queer, trans, or non-binary abuse victims, whose very identity lays bare the lie of the exclusionary male-on-female narrative.
From experience I can tell you that when I so much as bring up the jealous or insecure behaviour of an unhealthy male ex, listeners of all stripes are quick to jump to my defense, offer a listening ear, or threaten to find that piece of shit and give him what-for, but when I go so far as to describe the violence of a female ex, a great many will apologize for her or tell me to my face that I'm full of shit. I've had friends preach from veritable mountaintops about the importance of consent, but watched them dismiss and diminish consent violations that happen in their very presence, if the abuser is a woman or the victim a man.
I'll never forget the drunk woman I had to physically fight in order to stop her from assaulting me in a bathroom line at a gay club when I was out with the Whitest Knight I knew. When I came back from the bathroom shaken up from the experience, he couldn't have cared less.
Meanwhile, I have an ever-growing list of male and LGBT friends who have experienced abuse or sexual assault, who have horrific stories of police that didn't believe them, officers who laughed in their faces, shelters who turned them away, hotlines who referred them to programs for abusers rather than the abused, friends and family who mocked them, and an entire system designed to erase and mistreat them after what they've been through, because the system is built on the assumption that abusers are men and the abused are women.
Which is to say, I keep meeting people who have been through way worse than what I have, and have access to way less empathy or resources, just because their experience doesn't fit the narrative. Learning this has made me absolutely furious. So on behalf of the people I love and the survivors like them, I decided a long time ago that I won't rest until everyone has access to compassion, justice, victim services, and the ability to heal.
But things are getting better. Five years ago, when I brought up my experiences at the hands of abusive women, or my male/lgbt friends' experiences in conversation, I was met with great resistance. I would be disbelieved, insulted, threatened, or often told that I'm a rape apologist who ought to get raped. Yes, really. A few times I was told that they'd like to find me and assault me because I'm taking away from women's male-perpetrated abuse stories by trying to broaden the discourse. When the MeToo movement started, I was laughed out of a lot of discussions, censored and blocked, for standing up for ALL survivors, and begging that men and LGBTs be included in their advocacy.
Now, more often than not, my insistence on inclusion is acknowledged politely, sometimes even welcomed. I can't tell you how happy I am that I am starting to see the following conversation, which would have been impossible when I first started fighting:
"It's just horrible that women have to go through that."
"It's horrible that ANYONE has to go through that."
"Yes, you're right. I'm sorry -- men, women, anybody."
I don't know if this is because attitudes are changing everywhere, or if I'm just keeping better company, but I am optimistic that change is on the horizon. There are DV shelters that are starting to accept men and boys. There are hotlines and nonprofits with the goal of inclusivity of all abuse victims. People are even starting to believe and understand that rape can and does happen outside that male-on-female paradigm. We still have a lot of work to do, but I think we're getting somewhere, and it gives me hope for the future.
So if you're new to my page, or if you've never asked before, this is why I do what I do. And for the record, I'm always looking for people to join me in the fight for equality."
(Some of you are mutual friends and know who she is--please don't identify her, unless she gives the explicit go ahead.)
Note: as this topic can arouse heated emotions, please remember that rule here is to be kind and respectful at all times, even when others are behaving badly or trying to bait you.
"This morning someone asked me how I got into my crusade about abuse, particularly for male and LGBT victims. It sparked a cool conversation, so here is a bit of background, for anyone else who's curious.
Norah Vincent is a gold star lesbian journalist who lived as a man for over a year in order to research the differences between men's and women's experiences. She played the role of a guy named Ned, and wrote a truly incredible book, called Self-Made Man, about all the typical men's activities she experienced in character and her analysis of those experiences. One of the most interesting parts of her book, I think, is when she talks about dating as Ned. Straight women approached the date very much on their guard, as if they preemptively blamed her for the behaviour of their exes, and Vincent realized something profound: "Oh my god, do straight people think their shitty partners are reflective of the entire opposite sex??"
They definitely do. Here is what I've noticed.
I meet a lot of straight MRAs who have had unpleasant, toxic, or abusive partners, and they have decided that women are not good partners.
I meet a lot of straight feminists who have had unpleasant, toxic, or abusive partners, and they have decided that men are not good partners.
For my part, I'm an egalitarian bisexual, so I have seen the spectrum of human gender and dating behaviour from a very different angle than a lot of straight people. I have and have had incredible partners of both sexes and a variety of gender expressions. And I have had relationships with both men and women who ranged from unhealthy to outright abusive.
We as a society have a lot of assumptions about women and innocence, stemming from traditionalist stereotypes, size and strength differentials between men and women, and a variety of other misconceptions. As a result, we raise up the voices of abused straight women, including feminists who see abusive male exes as representative of men as a group, but we don't raise up the voices of abused men (or their radicalized members). The result is that we reinforce the idea that men treat women badly in relationships, writ large, but that women don't (or even can't) mistreat or abuse their partners. We also make no space for hearing or understanding queer, trans, or non-binary abuse victims, whose very identity lays bare the lie of the exclusionary male-on-female narrative.
From experience I can tell you that when I so much as bring up the jealous or insecure behaviour of an unhealthy male ex, listeners of all stripes are quick to jump to my defense, offer a listening ear, or threaten to find that piece of shit and give him what-for, but when I go so far as to describe the violence of a female ex, a great many will apologize for her or tell me to my face that I'm full of shit. I've had friends preach from veritable mountaintops about the importance of consent, but watched them dismiss and diminish consent violations that happen in their very presence, if the abuser is a woman or the victim a man.
I'll never forget the drunk woman I had to physically fight in order to stop her from assaulting me in a bathroom line at a gay club when I was out with the Whitest Knight I knew. When I came back from the bathroom shaken up from the experience, he couldn't have cared less.
Meanwhile, I have an ever-growing list of male and LGBT friends who have experienced abuse or sexual assault, who have horrific stories of police that didn't believe them, officers who laughed in their faces, shelters who turned them away, hotlines who referred them to programs for abusers rather than the abused, friends and family who mocked them, and an entire system designed to erase and mistreat them after what they've been through, because the system is built on the assumption that abusers are men and the abused are women.
Which is to say, I keep meeting people who have been through way worse than what I have, and have access to way less empathy or resources, just because their experience doesn't fit the narrative. Learning this has made me absolutely furious. So on behalf of the people I love and the survivors like them, I decided a long time ago that I won't rest until everyone has access to compassion, justice, victim services, and the ability to heal.
But things are getting better. Five years ago, when I brought up my experiences at the hands of abusive women, or my male/lgbt friends' experiences in conversation, I was met with great resistance. I would be disbelieved, insulted, threatened, or often told that I'm a rape apologist who ought to get raped. Yes, really. A few times I was told that they'd like to find me and assault me because I'm taking away from women's male-perpetrated abuse stories by trying to broaden the discourse. When the MeToo movement started, I was laughed out of a lot of discussions, censored and blocked, for standing up for ALL survivors, and begging that men and LGBTs be included in their advocacy.
Now, more often than not, my insistence on inclusion is acknowledged politely, sometimes even welcomed. I can't tell you how happy I am that I am starting to see the following conversation, which would have been impossible when I first started fighting:
"It's just horrible that women have to go through that."
"It's horrible that ANYONE has to go through that."
"Yes, you're right. I'm sorry -- men, women, anybody."
I don't know if this is because attitudes are changing everywhere, or if I'm just keeping better company, but I am optimistic that change is on the horizon. There are DV shelters that are starting to accept men and boys. There are hotlines and nonprofits with the goal of inclusivity of all abuse victims. People are even starting to believe and understand that rape can and does happen outside that male-on-female paradigm. We still have a lot of work to do, but I think we're getting somewhere, and it gives me hope for the future.
So if you're new to my page, or if you've never asked before, this is why I do what I do. And for the record, I'm always looking for people to join me in the fight for equality."