On Being a “Dude”

Twice in two days I’ve now been grouped with the stereotypical male population by people who don’t know me. The first was a suggestion – let me get the quotation right – that I “think most things girls say are dumb.” That one was a bit humorous, if flagrantly incorrect. The second was the suggestion that I must find it impossible to be platonic friends with a woman because I am a “dude.” These comments (and some others – notably a teacher in Florida who met me and thought I must be a player because I was dressed in a nice shirt and had stylish glasses) have given me pause.

The implication is that my penis defines me. Hmmmm.

Well, I am a dude. I certainly enjoy seeing scantily clad beautiful women. I like to fantasize about the kinds of women that Hollywood and Madison Avenue have taught me to fantasize about. I drank the Kool-Aid when it comes to sexual desire. I prefer women who have smarts, but as a young woman told me the other night, smarts look really good in a school girl skirt. Still, liking smarts doesn’t make me special; most dudes like smart women, especially smart, sexy women in school girl skirts (or sexy shoes or nice lingerie or whatever). In fact, I would say that I like women just as much as the next guy.

Actually, I would say that I appreciate women as people more than the next guy (at least the stereotypical next guy). Still, I don’t mean to imply that these other guys are lacking. In fact, I don’t think it is at all normal for me to think the way I think about gender. It’s difficult, and often it isn’t very rewarding.

Let me explain:

At a certain point in my life, for what I thought at the time were very good reasons, I sacrificed being a sexual being so that I could become the best empathetic support a certain someone could possibly have. This is the same move that nuns make when they swear themselves to the church. The difference is that I made this move so that I could support the person in this world I most desired at the time. To be clear: I did not simply stop having sex – many of us do that regularly (and find it quite irritating, to be sure). I eliminated my sexual desire. It had to cease to be.

By the time it was safe to become a sexual being again (which is a conversation for a different time), I had become a real feminist, a supporter of BUFFY and the Call to Men foundation, a gender-studies-kinda-person. I learned how to be the person I wanted to be. I spent years – basically the same amount of time it takes to get an MD – studying and experiencing and learning and growing in my approach to gender. I now see women as people, primarily, even when they (and most men) still see me primarily as a person with a penis.

But what does it mean to see women as people, primarily?

• It means developing the ability to empathize deeply with experiences that I cannot physically share with women.
• It means to be “in touch” with myself in ways Hollywood denies for men (and therefore to have the ability to be “in touch” with the feelings of others).
• It means to ask what a woman needs and actually listen to her tell you – something men are almost never taught to do.
• It also means I get very frustrated when I hear otherwise intelligent women reading from a cliché script which is meant to please stereotypical men (and the fans of Kim Kardashian) – if you watched the interviews with the Victoria Secret Angels, you know exactly what I mean.
• And it means I get very frustrated when I hear women intentionally place women below men (as in the argument that no woman could make a good President).
• It means that a woman is just as safe from prying eyes or wandering hands changing in the room with me as she would be changing with any of her “girl-friends” – but it also means that I understand why she might not feel comfortable changing in the room with a big hairy ball of testosterone standing nearby.
• And it means I get sad when I am only seen as a big hairy ball of testosterone.
• And I get mad when other men make me look bad because I do pack a penis. (Guys, stop being octopi unless a woman asks for all eight of your arms to grab her, and stop seeing women as objects to “hit” rather than as fellow journeyers in this life.)

I could go on, but you get the idea.

And I hope that the above-mentioned people will get to know me, because I’m fabulous (and I’m sure they are fabulous as well).

On Being Feminist

I discussed recently with a new friend how certain words can be off-putting if you don’t know what they mean. It is easy, for instance, to get college students to sign protests against women’s “suffrage” — most don’t understand what they are protesting. “Feminism” is another such word. Because of it’s root, many believe that it is a movement which promotes women above men (that would be “matriarchy,” btw). Instead, feminism is, as bell hooks tells us, for everyone. It is the only movement arguing for equality among all sexes, genders, sexualities, races, creeds, etc. It is adamantly opposed to oppression (and therefore equally opposed to patriarchy and matriarchy). 

I’m a straight, white, historically-Christian, over-educated male. And I’m very, very proud to be feminist because I believe that we should all be granted equal opportunities and that no one should be shunned because of sexism or racism (and that includes those who shun homosexuality). Although I am still in the minority, I believe that we can get better as a society — once we embrace the idea that, like universal suffrage, feminism is for everyone.