Reframing "Not all men"

[blimix]

Apologies if it's old news, but here's my take on the "not all men" phenomenon.

We live in a culture in which women have learned, quite rightly, to mistrust men. Men kill women. Men rape women. Men abuse women.

A man who is not abusive or violent may well feel defensive about this mistrust, feeling that he hasn't personally earned it. He might say, "But not all men are like that. I'm a nice guy. I would never do that. I'm not part of the problem."

But if that's your response, then you're part of the problem. The problem isn't you in particular. The problem is that women have good reason to fear men. When you focus the dialogue on yourself, not only are you failing to help, you are actively ignoring that the problem exists at all. By claiming that women have no cause to mistrust you, you're denying the validity of the lifetimes of experience by which they have learned that men are dangerous. And you know what? Their experience in this matter is much greater, and more relevant, than yours is.

If your solution is to quiet women who complain that there's a problem, then you are a huge part of the fucking problem.

You know what you can say next time a woman you've never met before mistrusts you? "I understand and accept your mistrust." Then just think this part silently: "Your experience with assholes has taught you caution. I'm sure it was a dearly bought lesson, and I would not ask you to disregard it."

If you are male, and want to be part of the solution, do a web search, or start here or here. (Comments for other good places to start are welcome.)

Comments

[blimix.livejournal.com]

Attacking someone for that defensive reaction is then probably counterproductive.

I disagree here. I've seen an awful lot of slightly bad situations turn into awfully bad situations because someone reacted defensively to criticism (real or imagined). I think that encouraging people to listen with an open mind instead of reacting defensively is a productive thing. And part of that encouragement is (for me) a clear explanation of why the defensive reaction is bad.

The fact that this particular (and common) defensive reaction causes someone to be part of the problem is critical, because "I'm not part of the problem" is the entire basis of the reaction. I hope to communicate that men's "not all men / not me" reaction pulls the rug out from their own objection, making itself untrue in the very act of claiming it. The desire to behave consistently (in this case, not contradicting their claim to not be an asshat) will, I hope, add its weight to the desire to be a decent person who treats women's concerns with respect because it's the right thing to do.

I have no statistical source off the top of my head. It seems like it would be difficult to measure, since everyone is in the most danger from the people they spend the most time around. ("Family" is at the top of the danger scale.) If black teens spend more time around black teens (which I presume), that will confound efforts to study who actually is the most dangerous to whom, on a person-hour basis. (I have only ever suffered violence from white males of my own age group. Same deal.) Instead, my feelings on the matter draw on observations of systemic racism and white-on-black violence and oppression, as compared to (what appear to me to be) isolated cases of black-on-white violence.

[light-in-motion.livejournal.com]

I've seen an awful lot of slightly bad situations turn into awfully bad situations because someone reacted defensively to criticism (real or imagined).

I know of two instances where you lost friends due to defensive reactions. Are there many other examples I don't know about, or did recalling intense pain inflate "some" to "an awful lot?"

I think defensive reactions to criticism of a group one's a member of are simultaneously understandable, counterproductive, and tricky as hell to work around. My immediate response to feeling attacked is to defend myself, rather than unpacking *why* I feel that way, even though the latter's always more useful, in my experience. I can figure it out eventually, but have never yet been able to suppress that immediate reaction. This despite knowing it's far less useful than figuring out why I feel like I need to. We're social animals; it wouldn't surprise me if there isn't an instinctive response to interactions that feel like a threat to our social standing. I do not think it's all attributable to protecting one's self-image, although that's likely part of it; certainly it is for me.

"Not all [people like me]" (subtext: dammit!) is a perfectly natural response. It's also terribly seductive. Categorizing and judging people on their categories is both extremely prevalent and horribly unjust. We know this, so when it feels like that's happening to us, it's very easy to get righteously indignant and not look any further than that. I wish I could suggest a surefire work-around, but I don't really know of any. All I can offer is that social critics trying to convince need to keep that likely response in mind, and people feeling like they need to defend themselves, might benefit from stepping back and considering why that is.

[blimix.livejournal.com]

I agree that it is a natural response that is tricky to work around. It would be unreasonable of me to expect people to suppress their defensive reactions in general. However, I hope that this post can go a long way toward helping one set of people avoid one particular spoken reaction (regardless of how their feelings react). When someone is tempted to say, "Hey, not all men are like that," they can catch themselves and think, "Wait, that's one of those things I'm not supposed to say, because it's disrespectful and derailing. What can I say instead?" I've learned similar filters by reading essays about things not to say (and by watching "My Gimpy Life"). I expect other people can, too.

I inflated nothing. One abusive ex-friend counted for an awful lot of those situations on his own, but almost everybody does it occasionally. (I used to consistently react defensively to criticism (though without the lashing out that sometimes accompanies such behavior). Luckily, I got better when I discarded that aspect of my pride.)