Curiously, there are some Men’s Rights Activists (or MRAs) who believe masculinity (specifically the aforementioned middle class, white, straight, etc. brand thereof) is under threat from feminists who seek to undermine everything that we hold dear (strictly speaking, that isn’t 100% off the mark, and my lot could use a little ironing out.) But here’s a columnist, Clementine Ford, an academic feminist writer and advocate who expresses her opinions – in opinion pieces – and in doing so unleashes a torrent of abuse from MRAs who see her as being patient zero in the plague intent on wiping our sex from the face of the earth.
I’ve – mistakenly – engaged in Twitter exchanges with those who have read her articles, completely missed the point of them, taken it as a personal affront and been under the perplexing misapprehension that one person (C. Ford) writing a piece describing the actions of one, or several men as being abhorrent (hard to argue) is an attack on all men.
You try to point this out, and then rain of nonsense becomes a typhoon. I’d not recommend it.
The thing most admirable about Clementine Ford’s writing, incorporating her column inches at Daily Life as well as her frequently (and superbly) brutal take-downs of those internet randoms seeking to poke her hornet’s nest with a stick (#metaphors), is her articulation of rage. She’s angry, and she can say exactly why. The question remains, what is keeping other women from feeling similar anger?
Fight Like a Girl is part memoir, part manifesto, part call to arms. It articulates the rage felt by someone who has taken the red pill and knows that the rabbit hole is fairly deeply entrenched to benefit the patriarchy, and subvert ideas and actions which allows women to take up a place of equality and power alongside, or – dare to dream – above men.
Oddly enough, most of the vitriol directed at her is done by those to whom she’s not speaking. Reading this book I was occasionally taken by the fact that it was like being party to a conversation I was not invited to. Which I wasn’t. I’m not the target demo, at all, for this piece. This genre, to be blunt.
I’m among a demographic who, by-and-large refuse to acknowledge their relative levels of privilege. And it only gets illuminated by removing that very same spotlight from us. Herein, this is a book, a conversation which is neither seeking, nor lacking my voice. As a memoir, it’s written in a frankly honest manner, and is as much, oddly, unexpectedly moving at times. As a polemic tome, it does – as is Ford’s wont – verge on the righteously angered, and occasionally very funny. It’s a fascinating, insightful work. It’s also eye opening as to how appalling some of my fellow fellows would confront and attack women online; the language, the imagery, the threats. It’s heinous; entirely dispiriting for me and for my gender as a whole.
I have learned more from this author about the plight, the fights, the struggles of those outside my bubble than from anyone else. I’ve learned that for a man to understand feminism, the best thing he (or I) can do is read, listen, and keep one’s devil’s advocacy in check – for it is neither sought, nor would it be well received. Take things in; place yourself in another’s shoes. Hear the experiences of women, understand from where she’s coming. And because of the fact that there are so few avenues for her uninterrupted expression (and endless ones for a chap’s), yield your time on the floor. The ledger is sorely unbalanced in this regard.
Mostly though, it’s not enough to just do the right thing, we need to call out those who do the wrong thing – who perpetrate acts of violence against women, who subject women to crude comments and sexist jibes, who make ‘jokes’ at their expense. Think Trump, and while you’re at it, don’t think like Trump.
I’d heartily recommend Fight Like a Girl for girls, women who might seek to know about the man behind our society’s curtain. For men and boys, just read it and take a moment to merely consider how the other half lives one day to the next. And reserve your judgment (he said, ironically, reviewing the book in a public forum).
(Addendum: I don’t fight like a girl. I don’t fight, period. I’d admit to throwing like a girl, but that would be doing a tremendous disservice to girls. Not sure how you could describe my throwing style. Throw like a praying mantis, perhaps?)