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Okay, it’s time for another installment of “why Chris Claremont’s run on X-Men was so groundbreaking.” Today we look at Wolverine: Feminist Icon For Boys!
One thing that I’ve been thinking about, as I’ve tried to explore my own prejudices and the messages I’ve received, in relation to the way I view and treat women, is that there are not very many great models for what it is to be a man who is feminist. That is to say, a dude who embodies inspiring traits that appeal to your average boy or young man who also offers a model to follow for treating women equally. There are lots of men who talk a good game and who are nice to the women they help (say, Superman or Captain America), and there are even some dorky men who look to a woman in charge (like Xander on Buffy), but there aren’t a lot of male characters in media who are both cool and who act in a way that’s truly equal. Nobody who watches Buffy wants to be Xander (maybe Spike or Angel, but that’s way different), and while there are plenty of things to admire about the characters of Superman and Captain America, they don’t really act in a way that makes them role models for feminism. And it is important that these characters exist, because otherwise these boys grow up thinking that concepts like “feminism” include things like Ladies’ Night at bars and that it doesn’t have anything to offer them.
And then there’s Wolverine. Wolverine is obviously the coolest of the X-Men, the one who every boy wanted to be. He takes no shit from anyone, he’s tough, he’s scary unless you’re one of his friends, he never gives up — he’s the coolest superhero there is.
He also never needs to be the boss, or to be right all the time. That page up there is from an issue that involved the team leaders — Storm, Cyclops, and Nightcrawler — all being out of commission. Wolverine is the longest-tenured member, but he defers to Kitty Pryde, who’s a teenage girl. And he makes it look cool. Because he doesn’t do it cuz he’s a wimp or something — he does it because she’s the best prepared for the job.

This comes up more than once. When Professor X starts walking and takes over, Wolverine is the one who champions Storm as the leader. He does the same thing when Cyclops rejoins the team and everyone else treats him like the boss. In short, while Storm provides an excellent model for what a strong woman leader looks like (especially after she goes punk rock), Wolverine provides a model for what a strong man who is able to follow a woman looks like. And that is a big thing for a boy whose ideas about gender and gender roles are being formed. The fact that Wolverine is the coolest, toughest X-Man and can follow a woman as the leader without any problem is huge. Because, obviously, a man isn’t always the most qualified, and things like being tough and not taking shit, while traits that we admire, are not always the things that make a person the best boss.
It’s more than that, too. It’s at the core of the character of Wolverine during Claremont’s run. He befriends young girls, and takes on a sort-of fatherly role with Kitty and, later, Jubilee, but because of the way he’s established throughout the series, that’s never creepy. You can believe that he finds something to value in these girls that doesn’t have any baggage, because he treats every woman he encounters throughout the run of the book in a manner that’s genuinely respectful — not the “respectfulness” of a dude who is nice because he’s trying to score, but that of a man who sees the women he encounters as inherently his equal.
That’s never better illustrated than in his relationship with Mariko. Because it’d be one thing if he were like, “Sure, Storm’s a good leader,” but in his own personal relationships were sketchy. But Mariko — the daughter of a Japanese  crime boss, and Wolverine’s fiancee — ends up with a burden to bear and she calls off the wedding because of it. Wolverine shows up, asks that she just let him handle it — he’s the mutant with claws, she’s not — and she refuses. This one, she’s got to do herself. It echoes a point that Wolverine makes in earlier issues about both Cyclops and Colossus (and himself), that there are some battles a person must fight alone, and Wolverine respects Mariko in the exact same way that he respected Cyclops and Colossus — by letting them do it.

Keep in mind, now, that Claremont was writing Wolverine this way at the exact same time that John Byrne felt it necessary to include, in Fantastic Four, that all of the innovative new uses that Sue Richards came up with for her powers were all Reed’s ideas. There are actual thought-bubbles where Sue opines about how smart Reed is because he thought to train her to use her powers in this new way. Meanwhile, Claremont is teaching boys how to respect women as leaders, how to befriend them in ways that doesn’t have anything to do with secretly hoping to fuck them, how to stay out of the way and let a woman do things the way she needs to and not try to fix it all yourself — important things that make life better for both men and women, and he does this with his coolest character.
And that’s what’s so important about Claremont’s take on Wolverine. It doesn’t matter if Xander provides a model for how to respect a woman leader on Buffy, because who the fuck wants Xander to be his role model? You get ridiculed from a young age (and well into your life, ask any feminist dude) if you treat women as equals and with respect. You get called a mangina or a white knight or pussywhipped or whatever. And that shit does sting, sure — especially if you’re trying to figure these things out when you’re in your boyhood. So the fact that it’s Wolverine, and not Nightcrawler or even Colossus who does all of this — it’s a clue, for those boys who are figuring all this stuff out, that being a feminist doesn’t make you any less of a man. And that is a lesson worth internalizing.

Okay, it’s time for another installment of “why Chris Claremont’s run on X-Men was so groundbreaking.” Today we look at Wolverine: Feminist Icon For Boys!

One thing that I’ve been thinking about, as I’ve tried to explore my own prejudices and the messages I’ve received, in relation to the way I view and treat women, is that there are not very many great models for what it is to be a man who is feminist. That is to say, a dude who embodies inspiring traits that appeal to your average boy or young man who also offers a model to follow for treating women equally. There are lots of men who talk a good game and who are nice to the women they help (say, Superman or Captain America), and there are even some dorky men who look to a woman in charge (like Xander on Buffy), but there aren’t a lot of male characters in media who are both cool and who act in a way that’s truly equal. Nobody who watches Buffy wants to be Xander (maybe Spike or Angel, but that’s way different), and while there are plenty of things to admire about the characters of Superman and Captain America, they don’t really act in a way that makes them role models for feminism. And it is important that these characters exist, because otherwise these boys grow up thinking that concepts like “feminism” include things like Ladies’ Night at bars and that it doesn’t have anything to offer them.

And then there’s Wolverine. Wolverine is obviously the coolest of the X-Men, the one who every boy wanted to be. He takes no shit from anyone, he’s tough, he’s scary unless you’re one of his friends, he never gives up — he’s the coolest superhero there is.

He also never needs to be the boss, or to be right all the time. That page up there is from an issue that involved the team leaders — Storm, Cyclops, and Nightcrawler — all being out of commission. Wolverine is the longest-tenured member, but he defers to Kitty Pryde, who’s a teenage girl. And he makes it look cool. Because he doesn’t do it cuz he’s a wimp or something — he does it because she’s the best prepared for the job.

This comes up more than once. When Professor X starts walking and takes over, Wolverine is the one who champions Storm as the leader. He does the same thing when Cyclops rejoins the team and everyone else treats him like the boss. In short, while Storm provides an excellent model for what a strong woman leader looks like (especially after she goes punk rock), Wolverine provides a model for what a strong man who is able to follow a woman looks like. And that is a big thing for a boy whose ideas about gender and gender roles are being formed. The fact that Wolverine is the coolest, toughest X-Man and can follow a woman as the leader without any problem is huge. Because, obviously, a man isn’t always the most qualified, and things like being tough and not taking shit, while traits that we admire, are not always the things that make a person the best boss.

It’s more than that, too. It’s at the core of the character of Wolverine during Claremont’s run. He befriends young girls, and takes on a sort-of fatherly role with Kitty and, later, Jubilee, but because of the way he’s established throughout the series, that’s never creepy. You can believe that he finds something to value in these girls that doesn’t have any baggage, because he treats every woman he encounters throughout the run of the book in a manner that’s genuinely respectful — not the “respectfulness” of a dude who is nice because he’s trying to score, but that of a man who sees the women he encounters as inherently his equal.

That’s never better illustrated than in his relationship with Mariko. Because it’d be one thing if he were like, “Sure, Storm’s a good leader,” but in his own personal relationships were sketchy. But Mariko — the daughter of a Japanese  crime boss, and Wolverine’s fiancee — ends up with a burden to bear and she calls off the wedding because of it. Wolverine shows up, asks that she just let him handle it — he’s the mutant with claws, she’s not — and she refuses. This one, she’s got to do herself. It echoes a point that Wolverine makes in earlier issues about both Cyclops and Colossus (and himself), that there are some battles a person must fight alone, and Wolverine respects Mariko in the exact same way that he respected Cyclops and Colossus — by letting them do it.

Keep in mind, now, that Claremont was writing Wolverine this way at the exact same time that John Byrne felt it necessary to include, in Fantastic Four, that all of the innovative new uses that Sue Richards came up with for her powers were all Reed’s ideas. There are actual thought-bubbles where Sue opines about how smart Reed is because he thought to train her to use her powers in this new way. Meanwhile, Claremont is teaching boys how to respect women as leaders, how to befriend them in ways that doesn’t have anything to do with secretly hoping to fuck them, how to stay out of the way and let a woman do things the way she needs to and not try to fix it all yourself — important things that make life better for both men and women, and he does this with his coolest character.

And that’s what’s so important about Claremont’s take on Wolverine. It doesn’t matter if Xander provides a model for how to respect a woman leader on Buffy, because who the fuck wants Xander to be his role model? You get ridiculed from a young age (and well into your life, ask any feminist dude) if you treat women as equals and with respect. You get called a mangina or a white knight or pussywhipped or whatever. And that shit does sting, sure — especially if you’re trying to figure these things out when you’re in your boyhood. So the fact that it’s Wolverine, and not Nightcrawler or even Colossus who does all of this — it’s a clue, for those boys who are figuring all this stuff out, that being a feminist doesn’t make you any less of a man. And that is a lesson worth internalizing.

As promised, the first in a series looking at the things that are really just so great and progressive in Chris Claremont’s run on The Uncanny X-Men and The New Mutants. Exhibit A: Storm!
I was a pretty obsessive X-fan as a kid, lost interest around the time I was 12 or 13, came back around for Grant Morrison (and caught up on Scott Lobdell’s run, which was also pretty great), and have been kinda half-in, half-out since. I liked Joss Whedon’s and Matt Fraction’s runs a lot, hated Peter Milligan’s. When I was in the height of my X-Men fandom, around 7th and 8th grade, Jim Lee was drawing the tail end of Claremont’s sixteen year run. This was before bookstores had a graphic novels section, so I would hunt down and save up for back issues, try to get as much of the back-story as I could.
And I never liked Storm. I thought she was boring. Re-reading the early parts of the series, it makes sense that I thought that: She was, at first! She had the whole goddess spiel down, and was really far removed from all of the realness of the other characters. Kitty was real, so was Nightcrawler, so was Cyclops. The closest Storm got to a real emotion was being jealous of Kitty’s dance teacher.

Like, check out Storm and Luke Cage here, after searching a drug den. Cage knows the score, and Storm is just bewildered. But over the next few years of the series, all of this changes slowly. She gets tough, and at first that looks like a gimmick. Claremont transformed her into the team leader, and the template for that has usually been to have her act like the dude leader who preceded her. Suddenly, she’s willing to kill a motherfucker if that’s what the job entails, just like Wolverine. But there are a couple of things that are interesting about this: One, the change doesn’t come because of some trauma she suffers. She doesn’t get hard because she gets jumped or attacked or is too weak one crucial time and it costs her big. She becomes wilder and more free because she meets another woman, Yukio, and sees how much fun Yukio is having. The entire issue before Storm cuts her hair into a mohawk and starts wearing leather jackets and stuff, it’s just her and Yukio running around Japan laughing together. Two, the change doesn’t turn her into more of a dude. In fact, it’s the opposite.

Suddenly, how that she’s dropped the “untouchable goddess” thing, even Professor X is looking at her and realizing that she’s a woman. And that’s striking to me, because I think in most stories like that, it’d be the opposite. As she becomes the leader of a group of mostly-men (though in another dozen issues, the team’ll tilt super-heavy toward women), that’s when she’ll become elevated and above it all. That’s when she’ll become unnatural — because it’s hard to portray a real woman as a leader of men. We haven’t got a lot of models for it in adventure fiction, especially. Usually, they’re just dudes with tits drawn on. Instead, Storm runs around laughing with Yukio; she defends Rogue; she gets zapped and loses her powers, then beats Cyclops in a duel anyway; and she falls for Forge, and starts boning him in the Adversary’s realm.
That’s actually a theme of Claremont’s work, and it’s something that is really pretty exceptional — his women are powerful and leaders and they’re not asexual. Their sexuality is very much a part of them — or it’s not, like for Rogue, but they’re not written to be “above” sex, and they’re not written to be dirty for getting down. No more than Cyclops is, or Nightcrawler (though Nightcrawler’s is with his stepsister, so it kinda should be). Check out Dani Moonstar from the New Mutants:

She puts on the tiny dress in Rio, lamenting that it’s still too modest for her, but the fact that she likes to dress like that on occasion is maybe 1% of her character throughout the run of New Mutants. Mostly, she’s responsible and clever and brave, leading the team and occasionally flirting with Sunspot, but never in a way that makes it even remotely shameful.
And that’s just super progressive and, I’m willing to bet, responsible for changing the way a whole generation of kids who grew up giant X-fans saw gender dynamics. Probably there are a bunch more who missed that point, but that happens.
I’m a big Saul Williams fan, and I saw him read Said The Shotgun To The Head a few years ago. And one thing that he stressed is how it’s the story of a man preaching about a female god that he’s encountered and been intimate with, because he wanted to get the point across that we need to be able to see women who are both elevated and sexual. (We see men who are elevated and sexual all the time, of course — Cyclops hooks up with Jean Grey, Colleen Wing, Lee Forester, and Madeline Pryor throughout the first eighty issues of Claremont’s run, for example.) It’s probably the most interesting part of Said The Shotgun To The Head (and that’s coming from a guy who has a line of that poem tattooed on his arm). So when I was re-visiting all these X-Men comics, I found it especially striking that Claremont covered that exact same topic a couple decades earlier in a series written for 14 year olds.
Next in the series: Wolverine — feminist role model for boys!

As promised, the first in a series looking at the things that are really just so great and progressive in Chris Claremont’s run on The Uncanny X-Men and The New Mutants. Exhibit A: Storm!

I was a pretty obsessive X-fan as a kid, lost interest around the time I was 12 or 13, came back around for Grant Morrison (and caught up on Scott Lobdell’s run, which was also pretty great), and have been kinda half-in, half-out since. I liked Joss Whedon’s and Matt Fraction’s runs a lot, hated Peter Milligan’s. When I was in the height of my X-Men fandom, around 7th and 8th grade, Jim Lee was drawing the tail end of Claremont’s sixteen year run. This was before bookstores had a graphic novels section, so I would hunt down and save up for back issues, try to get as much of the back-story as I could.

And I never liked Storm. I thought she was boring. Re-reading the early parts of the series, it makes sense that I thought that: She was, at first! She had the whole goddess spiel down, and was really far removed from all of the realness of the other characters. Kitty was real, so was Nightcrawler, so was Cyclops. The closest Storm got to a real emotion was being jealous of Kitty’s dance teacher.

Like, check out Storm and Luke Cage here, after searching a drug den. Cage knows the score, and Storm is just bewildered. But over the next few years of the series, all of this changes slowly. She gets tough, and at first that looks like a gimmick. Claremont transformed her into the team leader, and the template for that has usually been to have her act like the dude leader who preceded her. Suddenly, she’s willing to kill a motherfucker if that’s what the job entails, just like Wolverine. But there are a couple of things that are interesting about this: One, the change doesn’t come because of some trauma she suffers. She doesn’t get hard because she gets jumped or attacked or is too weak one crucial time and it costs her big. She becomes wilder and more free because she meets another woman, Yukio, and sees how much fun Yukio is having. The entire issue before Storm cuts her hair into a mohawk and starts wearing leather jackets and stuff, it’s just her and Yukio running around Japan laughing together. Two, the change doesn’t turn her into more of a dude. In fact, it’s the opposite.

Suddenly, how that she’s dropped the “untouchable goddess” thing, even Professor X is looking at her and realizing that she’s a woman. And that’s striking to me, because I think in most stories like that, it’d be the opposite. As she becomes the leader of a group of mostly-men (though in another dozen issues, the team’ll tilt super-heavy toward women), that’s when she’ll become elevated and above it all. That’s when she’ll become unnatural — because it’s hard to portray a real woman as a leader of men. We haven’t got a lot of models for it in adventure fiction, especially. Usually, they’re just dudes with tits drawn on. Instead, Storm runs around laughing with Yukio; she defends Rogue; she gets zapped and loses her powers, then beats Cyclops in a duel anyway; and she falls for Forge, and starts boning him in the Adversary’s realm.

That’s actually a theme of Claremont’s work, and it’s something that is really pretty exceptional — his women are powerful and leaders and they’re not asexual. Their sexuality is very much a part of them — or it’s not, like for Rogue, but they’re not written to be “above” sex, and they’re not written to be dirty for getting down. No more than Cyclops is, or Nightcrawler (though Nightcrawler’s is with his stepsister, so it kinda should be). Check out Dani Moonstar from the New Mutants:

She puts on the tiny dress in Rio, lamenting that it’s still too modest for her, but the fact that she likes to dress like that on occasion is maybe 1% of her character throughout the run of New Mutants. Mostly, she’s responsible and clever and brave, leading the team and occasionally flirting with Sunspot, but never in a way that makes it even remotely shameful.

And that’s just super progressive and, I’m willing to bet, responsible for changing the way a whole generation of kids who grew up giant X-fans saw gender dynamics. Probably there are a bunch more who missed that point, but that happens.

I’m a big Saul Williams fan, and I saw him read Said The Shotgun To The Head a few years ago. And one thing that he stressed is how it’s the story of a man preaching about a female god that he’s encountered and been intimate with, because he wanted to get the point across that we need to be able to see women who are both elevated and sexual. (We see men who are elevated and sexual all the time, of course — Cyclops hooks up with Jean Grey, Colleen Wing, Lee Forester, and Madeline Pryor throughout the first eighty issues of Claremont’s run, for example.) It’s probably the most interesting part of Said The Shotgun To The Head (and that’s coming from a guy who has a line of that poem tattooed on his arm). So when I was re-visiting all these X-Men comics, I found it especially striking that Claremont covered that exact same topic a couple decades earlier in a series written for 14 year olds.

Next in the series: Wolverine — feminist role model for boys!

One quick last thought on Ben Weasel and “equal rights equal fights.”

Pretty done with this topic now, thanks to the rest of Screeching Weasel being stand-up dudes and quitting the band in response to all of this, but since this came up on the A.V. Club and Hay Ladies and Facebook and really everywhere I’ve talked about this, I figured it’d be worth clearing up real quick:

One reason “equal rights equal fights” doesn’t hold is because we don’t have equal rights, and the only time the people who spout it seem to utter the words “equal rights” are when they’re talking about their desired right to punch women in the face. Work on all the other equal rights issues first, and then we can revisit the topic of whether there’s such a thing as equal fights between a dude onstage surrounded by a horde of cheering fans and a girl who he’s just berated for being a skank and a whore and told she needs to suck [his] dick and all the rest. Okay, dudes? Till you’ve successfully lobbied as hard for equal rights for women in all the ways that don’t involve punching them in the face, we’ll just have to table this discussion.

Thoughts on 'Where Have All the Dude Blogs Gone?' →

Tim Donnelly at Thought Catalog ponders the question of why there are blogs ranging from Jezebel to The Frisky to Hairpin that are for women, but all of the blogs for men are just full of pictures of naked women and reviews of watches and shit like that. He points to the now-defunct Asylum, among others, as shallow men’s blogs that didn’t give him what he wanted.

And I hear what he’s talking about, I do. I tried, occasionally, to contribute stories back when Asylum was running that got at the same things he wants to talk about — male identity in reality as opposed to in media and things that talked about gay dudes in a dudely manner and stuff like that. I liked the idea of a sort-of male equivalent to Jezebel — a site that was smart and curious and wanted to talk about what it meant to be a man in the 21st century, with all the tit-shots and what to buy to get laid and seriously, all you care about is beer and TV, right, dudes-type posts left behind. But the more I’ve come to work elsewhere, the more I’ve realized that there’s no real point to that.

The reason that there are so many woman-specific blogs on the Internet is because most “gender-unspecific” sites are deeply woman-unfriendly. I had to restrain myself yesterday from getting into a flame war on the A.V. Club comments section about whether punching women in the face was wrong. And that’s a site with a number of woman writers and editors! We don’t need our own spaces because every space is, by default, ours. We don’t have to worry about being marginalized or threatened or ignored when we post on “gender-unspecific” sites, we don’t have to deal with the casual sexism of tit-shots on articles that have no need for a tit-shot, we don’t have to even think about it. Why would we create these male blogs? If a dude wants to talk about music, he doesn’t need to create a Male Music Blog, he can just go to Pitchfork. And advertisers know this, too. Asylum didn’t get its plug pulled because it was a fabulously lucrative property for AOL. I had a great time writing for the site (one of the few I’ve worked for, incidentally, where my direct editor was a woman — funny, that), but at the end of the day, there wasn’t a lot of dude-specific content that the site required. It was a general interest site that talked about video games and funny videos and music and whatever else we were interested in — all in the same voice that exists throughout the Internet.

I like Donnelly’s points, for the most part — I like the idea of a smart, engaged, audience of dudes talking about what manhood means. But I’ve also found that those conversations are mostly welcome in the feminist corners of the Internet.

At the end of his post, Donnelly tosses up a list of ideas he’d like to see on this smart, man-centric blog. They’re good ideas — some of them very good — but I can also think of any number of “gender-unspecific” sites that would buy most of the stories he lists, and that would not ever tell him, “Hey, we’ve got to tailor this for an audience that includes women.” Being able to define ourselves by our specific interests — movies, or sports, or politics, or fashion — without first having to check that through a gender-identity lens is a luxury that men possess. When sites try to do filter it through that lens first, it just ends up being redundant. We had a fun thing going at Asylum, but almost every idea I’ve had that I would have pitched to them since they went under, it took me no time at all to find another outlet who’d be interested. And that’s why there aren’t more dude blogs. Because if people want to read about why The Big Lebowski is the sum of all human wisdom, they can go to any number of non-dude blog to read it.

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
Track: The Bullpen
Artist: Dessa
Caption:

150 Favorite Songs: #140, “The Bullpen,” Dessa (2010)

Dessa’s record was a revelation last year. Smart songs about things that rappers don’t ever rap about (loving your little brother! A song of support to a dickhead famous rapper’s wife). A voice that effortlessly floats from singing to rapping and back almost without you even noticing. Beats that ranged from quirky, Tori Amos-sounding things to the hard-as-fuck Doomtree style. I hadn’t listened to her record when it first came out, but I caught her opening for P.O.S. last winter and knew that I had to hear the whole thing.

“The Bullpen” is the most accessible song on A Badly Broken Code and it’s probably the most traditional, in the way it’s structured. She’s very much a storyteller on most of her songs, but here she’s rapping about herself. I saw her play a couple of nights ago, and one thing that struck me was all the dudes with their hands in the air, rapping along to all of her songs — including this one. And I thought it was an incredibly cool thing, because people relate to rappers differently than they do most other musicians. Being honest, most people experience rap primarily as a first-person power fantasy. Jay-Z writes a little bit about this in Decoded — how businessmen and executives will tell him that they listen to songs about selling drugs or shooting people to get fired up about their powerpoint presentations. When a rapper talks about — that’s who we identify with. When Eminem says “I’ma kill you,” the person listening doesn’t think, “Eminem’s gonna kill me!”, they think, “Yeah, I’m gonna kill you!”, or beat you at Madden, or nail that job interview. (This is true of most rappers, incidentally, not just mainstream violent ones. If you listen to Saul Williams, who’s thematically the anti-Eminem, on “Lalala,” you’ll hear “You better drink half a gallon of shaolin / before you pluck the strings of my violin” from his perspective.) There’s nothing wrong with first-person power fantasies — that’s what superheroes and video games are, too. We find them valuable, and that’s the form most rappers emulate.

There’s also an element of surrender when you choose to identify that way. You’re checking your own ego a little bit, to take on the rapper’s persona. And I found Dessa’s record at a time when I was trying to reassess my own ego, and learn to listen better and defer more — important skills for a good journalist, which I have been trying hard to become. And so hearing “The Bullpen,” and identifying with it was interesting — because it’s specifically about being a woman in a male-dominated field, so taking that on is a unique experience for a dude. She’s rapping about glass ceilings (“I found this here ladder / now your ceilings don’t matter / check me out, now I got glass floors”) and the way guys who seem cool turn out to be sleazy (“it’s all love backstage / but then the boys get brave / gotta say, I hope your mother doesn’t listen”), and things that there’s not really a dudely-analog for. And taking that on — the way all of those dudes I saw at her show the other night did, with their hands in the air and their heads nodding, mouthing all the words (yeah, including me) — is a cool thing. It’s a bunch of tough dudes ceding authority to a woman, and that’s valuable. At least, learning how to do that — and songs like “The Bullpen” have helped — has been valuable to me.

Amanda Marcotte on Men's Rights Activists →

Are you familiar with the “men’s rights” corner of the Internet? They sometimes call themselves “anti-misandry.” I became familiar with this strange corner of activism back when I was working for a law firm, running a criminal defense blog. One of the defense bloggers I liked quite a bit apparently went through something in his life that turned his content increasingly toward topics like how most women who say they’re raped are probably lying*, and how men are under constant siege from feminism, and stuff like that. It catalyzed around the time that the accusations against Julian Assange picked up, because defense attorneys — who, pretty much by definition, have an anti-authoritarian streak in them — tend to like Wikileaks. And if you’re a person who’s prone to liking Wikileaks and prone to distrusting women — December was basically your coming-out party. I posted some comments, we got into some exchanges, a bunch of his fans from the men’s rights corner of the Internet called me a “white knight” and a “beta male”* and no one’s mind was changed at all. The blogger himself was, of course, quite respectful in tone throughout the thing — “Hey, man, let’s be real here”-type stuff, because we’re all dudes, right?

Anyway. I am fascinated by this world, because I kind of understand how dudes can get sucked into it. It just requires some hurt feelings and an inability to look beyond your own situation. Because, like, father’s rights. It’s a good topic. Should responsible divorced men have more access to their children? Probably, sure.

But here’s the thing, and it’s something Amanda Marcotte gets at really succinctly in her piece: if you’re arguing that divorced men should have more access to their kids, then you’re doing so on the basis of gender equality. And if that’s your argument — that we need more gender equality — then hooray! There is a whole movement that is dedicated to that. But you don’t get to pick and choose where gender equality is important, or where it’s a cause worth fighting for and where it’s somebody else’s problem. You don’t get to seek out the one place where gender equality will benefit you, and ignore the other issues where it will benefit women, and still hold any claim to the high ground. Because it’s not about “rights” or “fairness” or “equality” at that point — it’s about what you want.

Something that came up when I was engaging with this dude on his blog was that I needed to read this body of “anti-misandry” literature — how that would cure me of my identification with feminism. But here’s the thing: I’m not a feminist because I haven’t read about “men’s rights”. I’m a feminist because I have.

Because where the things they’re upset about are real problems? The solution, as Amanda Marcotte says, is more equality for everyone. And at its core, that’s what I’ve found feminism to be. The places where it’s just guys whining about how they can’t get dates, so women are probably just stuck-up bitches? Part of the solution there is to be a better man. And that’s something that feminism helps a guy accomplish, too.

Brett Favre, sexual harassment, and errrrgh.

My nighttime ritual includes reading my iPad in bed, because it doesn’t wake Kat up like turning on a lamp would. Lately, I’ve been catching up on the fast-shifting world of NFL firings, because the regular season just ended. So I logged onto NBC’s ProFootballTalk.com, which is my favorite of the up-to-the-minute news sites, and learned about the newest lawsuit against Brett Favre.

Here’s the article. In it, you can read Mike Florio — a writer I tend to like, when he’s talking about sports — explain over and over again how the charges are probably bullshit, because the information he had available to him when he wrote it didn’t involve Favre, like, texting pictures of his cock to the women who are suing him. (Which would be an egregious bit of exaggeration, except we already know he does that to women who work for the team he plays for.) I’ve seen Florio on TV, though, and I know that he’s a functioning adult human — who works in the media, no less — so I’d expect that he’d have learned that we don’t always learn all of the allegations in a pending lawsuit until it progresses. But that can wait — first, gotta dismiss the allegations as bunk, because Brett Favre would never sexually harass women who work for his team I dunno, that’s just a reflex that dudes have.

The comments are worse, because this is the Internet and that is how comments work. But — gosh. Golly. Holy cow. There’s apparently zero distinction among those dudes between “massage therapist” and “prostitute”. There’s Very Clever Men who’ve determined that the charges must be a quick cash grab, because if they were legit, they’d have been filed before the Jenn Sterger thing, not after. There’s even the inexplicable — but strangely ultra-common — insistence that this is just the media and the NFL out to get the commenter’s favorite team*. There were 72 comments at the time I read it, and I figured at least one of them had to have been slightly rational.

The closest I got was “Favre’s sleazy because he’s married and he should know better”, which is true and all, but I’m pretty sure it was just posted by a bitter Packers fan.

And — man. It just blows me away, every time, that people think filing a sexual harassment lawsuit against Brett friggin’ Favre would be an easy thing to do, and so the fact that they’ve waited means that they’re just gold-digging whores or whatever. Because, check it out: We already know that Brett Favre texts pictures of his cock to women who work for his team, and we already know that the organization he played for at the time these women say that they were harassed has a terrible track record when it comes to making sure that their players respect women they encounter as part of their job, and no one believes them even now. If you’ve got 72 people insisting that you’re a lying gold-digger after they’ve seen the cock shots, then there’s no way you’d get a jury to believe you that Brett Favre, just a big kid out there who loves to have fun in his Wrangler jeans while his wife looks on in her pink #4 jersey, sexually harassed a massage therapist, which is probably just code for “slut” anyway. So they sit on the case, then the cock texts come out, and it happens anyway.

At some point, I want to understand where this comes from. When I talk to Kat about it, she thinks that it’s a deep-rooted misogyny, that dudes instinctively deny sexual misconduct allegations because at their core, those dudes hate women. I’m inclined to think there’s something else at work — I see a lot of fear in it. Fear that, hey, I might have sent a text message like the one Brett Favre is getting sued for to a girl once, and I don’t think I’m the sort of guy who sexually harasses women, so that must not be sexual harassment. My guess is that there’s a self-identification most men have as a good guy, and sexual harassment (not to mention rape and sexual assault) are such awful things to be associated with that the only way to maintain innocence is to insist that, if they look like things that we might have done at one point, then they’re not really that wrong. But then I read those 72 comments, and I think — shit, maybe Kat’s right. Because that is some hateful shit. 

* This is a widely-held belief among fans of every NFL team, oddly — that the league is trying to pick on your guys because, I dunno, it hates just one of the 32 teams that make it a billion dollar industry, and so the dudes on the team clearly didn’t really use steroids / sexually harass every woman in front of them / intentionally try to give opposing players Parkinson’s by launching themselves helmet-first into a defenseless player’s head.

Stories 2010: Ann Wolfe Scares the Crap Out of Us →

A.V. Club Austin, March 2nd

The final product here isn’t, like, exceptional, but the process of interviewing Ann Wolfe taught me a lot. She’s a remarkable woman, of course (eight-time world champion!), but one I had a really hard time establishing any sort of rapport with. The first half hour of the conversation was me asking questions about things she clearly didn’t have much interest in talking about, and both of us sort of sighing through the interview, while I’m hoping that I’ll get enough quotes to string together a piece worth reading.

But then at minute 31 of the interview, I asked the right question, and she totally transformed the way she was talking to me. We got on a subject that she was passionate about — being a woman who trains men to fight — and she started offering me these incredible monologues, stuff that should go in an Oscar highlight reel. I made the mistake of assuming that the things that had put her on the A.V. Club radar initially were the best things to talk about, but I learned from her that the only way a person will ever open up to you is if you get them talking about things they care about first. Then you can ask questions that they’re bored with, and maybe they’ll have something new to say about that, too. But a key to interviewing I learned from Ann Wolfe is that if the other person would walk away if it weren’t a conversation they were required to have, then it’s not a conversation in which you’ll get anything other than the most boring stories out of.

(Incidentally, I had some l’esprit de l’escalier about the headline, which I was never fond of to begin with. The day after it ran, my friend Tony asked if it ran under the title, “Who’s Afraid of Ann Wolfe”, and I really wished it had.)