On Unicorns and Cleaning the Stable: Why Even “Male Feminists” Need to Actively Check Their Privilege

My two most recent posts have both been about the missteps of allies within social justice (specifically, the notion that they deserve equal attention/say in minority issues and on how they damage the cause through privileged platitudes). They’re both applicable to most any marginalized group, but this entry I want to specifically aim at “male feminists,” and how they contribute to female marginalization.

I moderate an online feminist community, in which I recently shared a blog entry on ways that men support rape. The author states elsewhere that she writes to a radical feminist audience, and thus there are certain assumptions she makes about her readers. Still, this particular article went a bit viral, and she got a lot of comments from those who do not identify as radical feminists (and perhaps not as feminists at all). She does a fantastic job of explaining her stance in the comments, and I highly suggest reading them.

One point the author makes in comments is that her list primarily exists as an outline for how men contribute to what many feminists (myself included) refer to as “rape culture.” But she also expresses her distaste for this term, explaining that she “think[s] [it] is limited, because it removes personal accountability and turns it into something more vague and abstract (‘society’).” It’s a point I hadn’t thought much on previously, but I understand her misgivings. I still plan to continue referring to rape culture, largely out of convenience, as it’s a term easily understood in feminist circles and, in a way, just makes communication easier. Still, her comment rung in my brain for a bit, and I’ve decided that regardless of whether or not I continue to use the term, I also need to start demanding personal accountability from those men who–regardless of their high-minded intentions–support the systemic oppression of women.

Part of this determination is because I don’t think anyone who considers themselves an “ally” should allow themselves to become complacent in that role, though many do. This has proven particularly true in my experience with “male feminists”–they claim the label, they acknowledge that they have male privilege, and so when they subsequently abuse that privilege, they think they deserve just a slap on the wrist, because clearly such a slight isn’t so bad from a feminist! They didn’t intend harm, and we should know that, because they’re feminists…right? But in reality, it’s simply painful on another level, because those men have, through declaring themselves feminists, lulled us into a false sense of security. And worse, it sets those men up to shrug off the consequences of their actions more easily, and makes us feel guilty for calling them on their misogyny.

This is a very real problem for a woman in rape recovery, because it cycles back to guilt. We feel guilty for calling out a “feminist,” for insulting an “ally” when there are so many Big Bad Rapists and Big Bad Rape Apologists out there who we’re told we should be focusing on instead. And guilt is a very real part of our daily lives, because we have been guilted by society for our very violations. We’re told that our behavior somehow welcomed rape, that we dressed/spoke/acted in such a way that our attacks were our fault. And no level of academic understanding of how false that is can relieve us of the social pressure to constantly question ourselves.

That’s why this list and its wording are so important, and something that “male feminists” in particular need to take a long look at. Note, this list calls out the actions of rape supporters–not rapists, not rape apologists. But what’s the difference? Rapist…that label is pretty obvious. (Or at least one would hope, though very often even rapists think they’ve never raped.) Rape apologists are those people who make excuses for the rapist, a rape apologist says that women “ask for it” through dress or behavior, they say partner rape isn’t “real” rape, they come up with bullshit excuses for why the very real act of rape wasn’t actually rape, or why it should be accepted anyway. Rape supporters are those who contribute to rape culture, they are the people who create a society in which rape is normalized, accepted. A rape supporter can be someone who finds the act of rape absolutely abhorrent, who would never forgive a rapist his actions or a rape apologist their excuses. But, by contributing to the systemic marginalization of women, a rape supporter helps form the culture that allows those people to do those things, hold those views, and go largely uncondemned by society. Basically, a rape supporter is a misogynist, because misogyny is the lifeblood of rape culture.

Rape culture isn’t about a world in which every man actively supports rapists and maybe is a rapist himself, at that. It’s about a society where rape is normalized, where the objectification of women is accepted and its consequences ignored. Every time a man does something on that list to oppress me and women like me, he is lending direct support to the cultural norms that make my rape acceptable, that prevent me from ever having justice. He is directly contributing to the social conditioning that has convinced my rapist that he’s not even a rapist, because I “deserved” to be attacked by merit of my behavior. A man who engages in the items on that list is granting comfort to my rapist, at my expense, because that’s what rape culture does, and it shouldn’t have to be something we talk about in theories with platitudes. I and other women (especially rape survivors) shouldn’t be required to consider the delicate feelings of men when confronted with their demonstrations of misogyny. And by objecting, by demanding special consideration for being “feminists,” those men are telling us that our victimization matters less than their delicate ally feelings. When any man engages in the objectification or marginalization of women, they are directly oppressing me by supporting the social constructs that allowed my rape to happen, forced me to stay silent, and will forever deprive me of justice. Yet I’m expected to be delicate when confronting them. The hypocrisy would be laughable if it wasn’t so damn painful.

The biggest obstacle in tearing down rape culture is that most people do not recognize how they contribute to it. And while women can certainly engage in internalized misogyny, women do not have the social power to oppress other women, which is why lists like this focus on men. It’s not about how men are the evilest of evil sexes, about how any man who engages in an activity on that list is out to personally destroy women. It’s about how without challenging their privilege, and actively rejecting it, men are contributing to our oppression through passive acceptance of it. And any man who decries this as too harsh a judgment is holding himself to paltry standards. I believe they can handle challenging their privilege; maybe they should believe so strongly in themselves as well.

I’ve never known a man who did not demonstrate misogyny. Period. I believe the truly “feminist” man to be a unicorn, that mythical creature whispered about in social justice that everyone’s heard of but no one’s ever actually seen and touched. Can men intend to be feminists, intend to never engage in misogyny? Of course, but (as always), intent isn’t magic, and privilege is a subversive beast, quick to convince its host that they’re being completely reasonable and fair, and not marginalizing anyone at all, even if a minority objects to their behavior. It’s why I suggest that men who self-identify as feminists take a step back and reevaluate their own actions. It’s not about your intentions, your beliefs in equality, your moral code or dedication; it’s about how insidious privilege is, and how easy it is to succumb to prejudice without even realizing it. It’s about me, as a woman, asking you, my “ally,” to accept that you will fuck up, that you will demonstrate privilege, and that you will contribute to my oppression, or outright oppress me. It doesn’t mean I think you’re a bad person, and it’s not about me or other women being “man-haters.” It’s about you recognizing your own humanity, and therefore your own fallibility.

Now, I will reiterate, none of this means that I think all men are irredeemable. I can read through that list with specific men in mind, men whom I love, and recognize ways that they do or have in the past contributed to rape culture. But the important part is whether or not they are challenging these actions, if they actively seek to cease privilged behavior, listen to the words of women and rape survivors, and respect our voices as more experienced on the topic of our own marginalization. A man who throws on a Rosie the Riveter tee shirt while still actively engaging in these activities is allowing his privileged ignorance to continue oppressing women; a man who stops screaming “I’M A FEMINIST” so that he can actually hear the words of women is on the right track.

And yes, I’m angry. Actually, I am fucking furious. And I have every reason to be, because I have spent years being silenced. And as far as my personal perspective goes, any man who can read this and think they have the right to be angry with me over their hurt feelings, rather than being introspective and acknowledging that my pain and frustration are legitimate, that they do fuck up and do oppress me…well those men can go to hell. I’ve had enough of those men in my life, and they do nothing but slow recovery, they do nothing but make me feel selfish because I have the unmitigated gall to be traumatized by my rape. So sorry to inconvenience you with my radical feminism, but truly, do you think your discomfort outweighs my own? Do you think I’m overreacting? Do you think being accused of misogyny is worse than being the victim of it? Do you think that being accused of supporting rape is more traumatic and damaging than being raped?

Please do think on that a moment. Because there is precisely one answer that will make you a decent human being.

Get Off the Fucking Fence or Get Out of My Movement: Overstepping Allies Part II

Privilege is a nasty, sneaky thing. It’s easy for most people to go through life pretending they don’t even have it. And when someone does recognize their privilege, they are invariably met with backlash from other members of their privileged social groups. This is because most privileged people are desperate to maintain the status quo–some obviously, some subtly.

Nearly every human being benefits from some form of privilege, and that privilege swaddles us in a cozy blanket of safety. It allows us to function in our daily lives with a level of peace that minorities aren’t allowed. As a white person, I don’t need to fear targeted police harassment. As a cis female, I don’t need to fear violence should I need to use a public restroom. Thin privilege allows me to shop for clothes without being bullied and eat without being guilted. All privileges have different comforts, but they are all based on the same principle: We are given this comfort because we allow the world to continue making minorities uncomfortable.

Personally, I’ve found that the most respectful thing I can do as an ally is to stop calling myself an ally. Those social justice movements for minorities I’m not a member of? They are not about me. So while I may want to pass on a link that’s of interest in those movements, or express my support to a friend fighting those battles, it is not my place to declare my word to be as important as those of the minorities involved. Instead, I stick to the sidelines, I observe, learn, and work to challenge my inherent prejudices. If a marginalized person tells me my presence is not welcome, that I’m overstepping or being offensive, I apologize, back away, and allow them the floor. It’s their movement, not mine; there is no reason for it to be all about me.

With that as my personal approach, I’m going to address self-proclaimed “allies” within my own social justice movements. Possibly my biggest pet peeve among such people is when they take it upon themselves to play mediator for my movement. Facebook is an ideal medium for such infuriating audacity, and frequently, I’m witness to this same basic scenario:

ALLY: Look at this article I’m sharing about feminism/queer rights/*insert social justice movement here*! I’m not a member of this minority, but I’m so happy to see them moving toward equality.
BIGOT: I’m tired of all this PC garbage! I will now spew bigoted rhetoric all over your supposedly egalitarian Facebook post!
MARGINALIZED PERSON: Hey, Bigot, think you could stop being a bigot and treat me like a human being?
BIGOT: Of course not! In fact, I will use the Magic of Derailing to invalidate every logical point you make. And just for good measure, I’ll add in some stuff about how you’re ruining the fabric of society with your mere existence.
MARGINALIZED PERSON: You know, I’m not a fucking theory, I’m a human being, and I’d appreciate a little respect. The least you could do is engage me in legitimate conversation, rather than ignoring all of the sound logic I present and then spouting hateful nonsense.
ALLY: Whoa, whoa, both of you calm down. Bigot, I agree with Marginalized Person that they should have equal rights, but you make good points about MP being too angry to take seriously. If we’re going to have equality, it should be the kind where minorities continue to be told that their opinions on minority issues are less important than or–at best–on par with that of their oppressors, even though they’re the only ones with personal experience on the subject. Though I’m an ~ally~ and thus disagree with you as a bigot, I completely respect your right to continue spouting hate in my space, making MP feel unsafe and further marginalized.

And you see that? That’s when allies stop being allies.

So, here is my call-to-arms for anyone who would like to think of themselves as an ally in social justice. You want to make a difference? Start lending real support to minorities, and not just the kind that’ll earn you ally cookies. You want to make a difference? Try going through this checklist before you engage in a conversation about minority rights. And then, for each point you fail to check off, challenge yourself to do better.

THE TOP TEN CHECKLIST FOR HOW TO BE A GOOD ALLY NOT BE AN ASSHOLE

1. I did not tell a marginalized person how they are wrong about their marginalization.

2. I did not actively support another privileged person’s bigoted words by stating how their bigotry made a good point.

3. I did not state or imply that privileged opinions should be heard and valued equally alongside minority opinions on minority issues.

4. I did defer to minority experiences over my privileged observations.

5. I did not tell a marginalized person that they are being “too mean” to a privileged person, or ask them to be less offensive to their oppressors.

6. I did not laugh at a prejudiced joke, or make “ironic” use of prejudice to show my superior understanding of the situation and my privileged ability to find humor in oppression.

7. I did not paint a specific marginalized person or any minority as a whole as too extreme, angry, illogical, emotional, or ignorant to be taken seriously.

8. I did ask other privileged people to follow my example in listening to the words of a marginalized person, and to value their experiences as more relevant than our own on the issue of their oppression.

9. I did not contribute to stereotypes about any minority, either actively (“*minority* is *stereotype*”) or passively (“we can’t ignore that *minority* is statistically more likely to *stereotype*”).

10. I did not proclaim myself arbiter of minority issues.

Privilege is not passive. Yes, the way it permeates our lives makes it seem that way, and elements of it are particularly subversive. But all allies need to understand that privilege, by its very nature, is actively oppressing those who lack it. Privileged people love to wave the flag of free speech in front of dissenting minorities, but it’s a strawman. Minorities are not telling privileged people, “You don’t have the right to have that opinion,” we’re telling them, “That opinion is bigoted and it hurts me.” We’re not saying, “You don’t have the right to say things that oppress me,” we’re saying, “You already oppress me constantly, and you should want to change that.” When appealing to the logic of those who call themselves our allies while still falling into bigoted traps like ‘splaining away our experiences, we’re saying, “You are still oppressing me, and it’s hurtful that you call yourself my ally while demonstrating that you consider your ‘right’ to subtly oppress me more important than my right to be treated as your equal.”

You are not granted magical insight thanks to your superior logic. It’s easy to feel that way, since your life is not invested in the subject, but that lack of emotional investment is because your Degree in Supreme Logic was obtained at the University of Social Privilege. You have the privilege of looking at things coldly, and all that really gives you is some questionable logical leaps, based entirely upon your assumptions of what it is like to be the minority. That’s the thing about real logic that privileged people tend to overlook: You can’t come to a logical conclusion without all of the facts. And no matter how many studies you read, or how many Theories of Debate courses you take, you will never have the most basic facts in the movement: The reality of what it is like to live as that minority.

Minority lives are not theories. Marginalized people are not observed subjects. And if you want to be an ally, the first step is to acknowledge that all of your booklearnings on what it’s like for minorities don’t give you the right to silence our voices. Your “logic”? It’s just another way to silence us.

Overstepping Allies: The False Assumption of Privilege Acknowledged, or “Let Me Explain Your Oppression to You”

It took me a while to truly acknowledge what delicate flowers allies in social justice are. Part of this is attributable to my own ally status, as I’d run in circles trying to explain how I’m not racist!, and that comment I made wasn’t transphobic!, because just look what a good ally I am! and but but but intent! It’s a really vicious cycle, and one that even those of us who try very hard to acknowledge our privilege can still stumble over. But if we want to really start creating equality in this world, all allies need to stop focusing on how we’re the bestest best allies in the world and marginalized people just need to let us explain that to them. We need to actually take a step back when someone says, “Hey, you’re exercising your privilege over me.” We need to try and have enough empathy and basic human respect to say, “I’m not the one who matters here. Society lets me have my say all the time, that is my privilege, and I need to relinquish it if I really desire equality.”

Many marginalized people live in constant fear of alienating allies. We need people to listen to us, to take our plight seriously, so it’s easy to want to cling to those privileged people who say they understand. But the problem emerges when that acknowledgement comes with so many privileged strings attached that the oppressed person winds up bound by the threads of their “ally.” It goes something like this:

ALLY: Hi! I’m Whitey McStraightdude, and I agree that I have privilege over you. I’m so sorry that Alabaster Heteroman is so mean to you! It’s really awful how all those other privileged people oppress you. In fact, I will now stand here and tell you all of the ways that I respect you and consider you my equal.
MARGINALIZED PERSON: Well, thanks Whitey, but since I’m the oppressed person in a minority space, I’d like to talk about the prejudices I face. This isn’t about you, or what a good ally you are; it’s about me, and marginalized people like me.
ALLY: Oh of course, but I want to make it clear that I’m one of the good guys, and I’m totally on your side. I would never oppress you.
MARGINALIZED PERSON: Uh…actually, by making the entire dialogue about you and your praise-seeking desire to prove that you’re a great ally, instead of allowing the discussion to remain strictly about the prejudices I face as a marginalized person, you’re silencing my voice, and that’s oppressive.
ALLY: Impossible! I admit that I have privilege, and thus am incapable of oppressing you, while also setting myself up as completely free of the responsibility to assess my words and actions for prejudice. By calling myself an ally, I have wrapped myself in an impenetrable force field of my own ignorance and ego! Now please stop waving about these wild accusations of me oppressing you, that’s just silliness.
MARGINALIZED PERSON: But you’re not being a good ally if you don’t listen to the words of the oppressed!
ALLY: Whoa now, you’re getting too emotional, when what you need to do is calm down and recognize that I’m correct here, because not only do I call myself an ally–thereby ensuring that everyone respects me as self-aware and a person seeking equality–but I’m also the male/white/straight/etc. person here, so society has already informed me that my opinion means more than yours.
MARGINALIZED PERSON: What the hell?! That’s prejudiced! The person on the receiving end of prejudice is the one who most deserves to have their voice heard. You don’t get to tell me that you know more about my oppression than I do, or that your opinion of it trumps my own!
ALLY: Well now you’re just being hostile, and a good ally like me shouldn’t have to listen to a marginalized person saying I could possibly do anything wrong, ever.
MARGINALIZED PERSON: Of course I’m being hostile! You’re ignoring every word I say in favor of your own privileged opinion! You’re oppressing me just the same as any other privileged person!
ALLY: No, no, you’re confused. Remember, I’m an ally. I don’t oppress you. You’re just a fringe lunatic who wants to enact reverse-prejudice against me because you’re jealous of my social privilege. I refuse to listen to such a hysterical argument from someone so prejudiced against me!
MARGINALIZED PERSON: But I have every right to voice my anger and frustration when someone is exercising their privilege over me! I have every reason to be angry, and you’re doing nothing but dismissing my words because of some arbitrary standard you set up for how oppressed people should demure to our oppressors, even when talking about our own oppression!
ALLY: Yep, and now that I’ve properly gaslighted you, I’ve made certain that you appear to the masses as a radical lunatic whose opinions deserve no respect, because even your own allies disagree with you. You’ve turned me into a martyr for privileged people, and proven that oppressed minorities are illogical, hateful, unappreciative bullies, and everyone really needs to start having pity for the unfortunate privileged people who have to suffer at the hands of your reverse-prejudice. That’s what you get for not showing me the proper gratitude when I pretended to consider you my equal.

Sound pretty extreme? Probably. But it constantly happens within social justice circles, and is made all the worse when marginalized people feed the ally’s ego.

Sometimes we do it because we’ve internalized our own oppression so much. We’ve been told our entire lives that we aren’t effective people, because we are inherently less capable than our social “betters.” Women can’t be expected to enact change, we’re too weak and emotional for such intense responsibility. Queer people can’t be expected to enact change, we’re too depraved and selfish to understand the consequences of our actions. Disabled people can’t be expected to enact change, we are literally less than fully-functional human beings and need to constantly have our hands held. We’re all somehow lesser than our oppressors, and if we are forced to enact social change all on our own, we’ll fail miserably because we’re just not capable enough by ourselves. After all, here’s an ally telling us we’re wrong–and they should know, society taught us they’re always right.

Sometimes we feed an ally’s ego because of simple fear of alienating them. It can be exhausting to recognize all the rampant inequality that exists around us, and if we challenge an ally who demonstrates their privilege, we may end up scaring them away, and being forced to bear the burden of our oppression alone. There’s comfort in numbers, and sometimes it’s easier to retreat into the safety of those numbers than it is to step back and risk solitude by standing up for ourselves.

Sometimes it’s because we don’t want to be “one of those marginalized people,” you know, the crazy extremists that no one likes. No no, we’re the logical type, we’re accessible and fair and really understand that it’s about equality. We’re the fun-loving ones, the ones who can laugh at jokes that are offensive to our minority groups, and eyeroll at the extremists, because it’s so much easier than living with the daily reality of just how far off we are from equality.

There are a lot of ugly motivations on both sides of the coin, and while minorities need to work to actively challenge our oppression, it’s unfair that we once again be asked to bear the social burden. Anyone calling themselves an “ally” should constantly be working to recognize the ways in which they feed oppression, and try to always consider their multitude of privileges before speaking out in a minority space. Remember, demanding that you be respectful and allow minority voices the stage does not necessarily mean that those minorities despise your presence or don’t appreciate your effort to be a good ally. At the same time, if a marginalized person does ask a privileged person to sit down and shut up or leave their safe space entirely, it still isn’t the mystical unicorn of “reverse-prejudice.” It’s a guttural reaction to desiring one tiny corner of our lives to be safe from privileged voices, well-meaning or not. Everyone deserves a place where their words can be heard, and privileged people already have that in the greater social sphere. They need to respect minorities enough to grant us that same freedom in the one tiny arena where we have reason to expect it.