Hey, Cis White Men! We’re the Worst.
Stop being awful for a second and read this.
I’m a white, cisgender man, and I’m angry.
“Join the other hundred-million of you guys in America,” you say. “You’re part of the problem.”
We are the problem.
The majority of perpetrators of sexual violence are white (57%) and male.
Yet, there are also many cis white men — the most privileged class in America — who are not abusive, but we’ve collectively stayed quiet in the ongoing fight to end sexual violence.
That silence is why I’m angry.
I don’t want us to be the loudest voice in the room, as is our wont, but we need to be in the room. We need be allies to all survivors of sexual violence, including the populations most at risk like trans people and indigenous women.
If we listen to and amplify the voices of survivors and marginalized communities while attacking toxic masculinity from within, we could change our culture.
Instead, cis white men pretend like it’s none of our business. We remain ignorant, whether that’s willful or not. Meanwhile, the mostly silent epidemic of sexual violence continues at alarming rates.
The loudest voices from our group tend to be powerful, privileged men griping about false accusations (extremely rare) and witch hunts, as if those are the greatest risks of the #MeToo movement.
The greatest risk of the #MeToo era is that sexual violence will persist unfettered — that nothing will change.
These powerful men can only imagine the world from their perspectives. They don’t understand the trauma of sexual violence — or worse, they do but don’t care.
Instead of empathizing with actual victims, the powerful men imagine themselves as victims. Meanwhile, every year more than three-hundred thousand Americans are victimized, but these awful privileged men exploit their positions to elicit sympathy. They ask for understanding from us.
What is their burden if #MeToo succeeds? They won’t be able to treat women and underlings however they damn well please.
If the cost of ending sexual violence are the hurt feelings of powerful white men, so be it. I will shed no tears.
Sexual violence is not about flirting or sex or fostering a “light-hearted” and “humorous” work environment.
Sexual violence is about power and control.
Throughout human history, men have exploited their status and positions to abuse others. They have used sexual violence as weapon of control.
The men speaking out against #MeToo don’t want that reign to end.
“It’s our job to listen now,” other men say.
But we don’t. It’s an excuse for inaction. If we really heard what survivors were saying, we would amplify their voices and speak up alongside them.
“It’s our job to listen now” really means, “Let’s keep our mouths shut until this whole thing blows over.”
Pro-tip, dudes: it won’t.
Feminism has marched forward for the last century, despite the best efforts of the patriarchy to stop it.
What’s the patriarchy, you ask?
If you’re asking this question, it’s probably you. And it’s me, whether we like it or not.
The patriarchy is the structure of cis white men who maintain power over governments, businesses, and culture.
It’s not a literal grouping of men, like a nefarious cabal operating the cords of society’s marionettes from deep within a secret lair.
The patriarchy’s no secret. It’s out in the open. It’s everywhere.
It’s the privileged men who grow up believing it’s okay to hurt women and then create legislation that protects them when they do, while also enacting laws that dictate what women can and can’t do with their bodies.
The patriarchy is the higher-ups on the corporate ladder who hire disproportionately more men and pay them more. Those hired, well-paid men have an easier time ascending to positions of power, and the cycle continues.
The patriarchy is the content creators who dominate our screens and pages with representations of strong white men, portraying female characters as accessories or conquests to be overcome.
All of this sends a single resounding message that shapes our culture, especially our youth: “Women are second-class. Their bodies and minds do not belong to them.”
Girls grow up receiving this message from birth. They are told to conform to certain impossible standard of beauty, and when they don’t, they are deemed worthless — often by themselves. They are raised to stay quiet and be nice, lest they provoke the ire of boys and men. They are told to dress appropriately, drink in moderation, and take the safe route home.
This is called rape culture, which puts the onus and responsibility of sexual violence on women. It assumes that men aren’t in control of their behavior, so women must be.
Then when something awful happens to girls and women that’s not their fault, we tell them:
“Boys will be boys.”
“It’s not that bad. At least it wasn’t [something worse].”
“Maybe you did something to deserve it.”
If you don’t know what psychological distress these messages cause on top of the trauma that’s already occurred, consider yourself lucky.
Also consider that you caused it.
Perhaps you didn’t cause it directly, but you stayed silent in a society that marginalizes people, especially women, for your benefit.
“I had nothing to do with this!” you say.
If you’re a cis white man, you are a part of rape culture, whether you know it or not. You and I, we didn’t create it, but we’ve flourished from it.
“No, I have not,” you protest.
What about that salary that pays you more than a woman doing the same job?
You didn’t protest that.
What about all those times your ‘bros’ spoke openly about humiliating women and demeaning them as sex objects?
You didn’t protest that.
What about the women you treated to lavish dinners and drinks with the expectation of intimacy, reducing sex to something transactional?
You didn’t protest that.
What about that porn you watch, the kind where women are humiliated, where the purpose and literal climax of each scene is the male orgasm?
You didn’t protest that.
And then what about your unrealistic expectations of sex that arose from saturating yourself in those pornographic portrayals since you were twelve? The feeling that you are somehow entitled to sex, that women owe it to you?
You didn’t protest that.
What about those news stories you hear about rapists escaping the feeble grasp of justice — stories that elicit a shrug at most before going about your day?
You didn’t protest any of those injustices.
What about the women and some men and people of all genders you know and love who live every day with the trauma of sexual abuse, harassment, and rape?
Maybe you haven’t heard their stories.
You should listen.
Before you do, understand this: their stories aren’t yours. They don’t owe them to you, and it’s not their job to perform their trauma to prove that there’s a problem.
But if you open yourself to listening and actually hearing about their experiences, you will gain understanding. You will also see how dangerous it is for us — the majority — to remain silent.
Sexual violence is endemic to our society, but it doesn’t have to be.
While you’re listening and learning, you need to be fighting to repair our toxic, male-dominated culture.
Don’t think that this will be a physical fight. Too many of us have savior complexes, imagining ourselves as the white knights who beat back the ogre to save the princess.
This is a fight of culture and ideas. If you want to help, here are a few ways to get started.
1. Educate yourself.
If you’re a cis white man who’s not an abuser, chances are you don’t understand the scope of sexual violence based on experience alone.
For countless women and some men, it’s their daily reality. The long-term effects on victims of sexual violence are well-documented — PTSD, emotional distress, increased likelihood of depression and suicidal ideation, along with issues in personal and professional lives.
Call me idealistic, but I believe if more cis men understood the scope of the problem as well as the magnitude of its effects, we would grow in empathy.
You shouldn’t have to personally know a survivor to understand the mostly silent scourge of sexual violence either.
If you catch yourself saying, “I have a wife, a mother, sisters, daughters…” just stop. It’s insulting to survivors that you can only empathize if you contextualize the situation to your own life.
Instead, read the words of those who chose to share their stories. For covering a breadth of survivor experiences, Not That Bad: Dispatches from Rape Culture (ed: Roxane Gay) is essential reading.
The more you understand the problem, the better prepared you will be to fight it.
2. Educate your children.
Sex education is pathetic in this country. There are 11 states that teach abstinence-only to their students, and 26 that require abstinence to be stressed. These old-fashioned beliefs about sex are at the heart of rape culture.
It’s unrealistic to hope that schools will change overnight, but the way you teach your children can.
Raise your boys better. Teach them how to express their feelings, especially anger, in a healthy way. Teach them to communicate. Teach them that a woman’s body is hers alone, and they have no right to it.
Teach them not to rape.
If you think that sounds absurd, you’re underestimating the power to shape young minds. They learn that rape is acceptable based on behaviors they see at home and with peers, which are mirrored by culture. Teach them the opposite.
Teach your girls to push back against a culture that puts the responsibility of boys’ behavior on their shoulders. Educate them about their own safety, as well.
Teach boys, girls, and non-binary children about consent, appropriate vs. inappropriate touching, and how to speak to an adult if something occurs.
3. Consent: Learn it, Live it, Teach it, Preach it
When a person agrees to go on a date with you, they’re consenting to one thing: going on a date, no matter how expensive or wonderful the date may be.
When a person agrees to one sexual act, like kissing, it does not mean they consent to anything else. At every level of intimacy, you should check in with them to see how they’re doing, if they’re enjoying it, and if they wants to continue.
If that seems like a lot of work, then clearly sex is only about your pleasure and not your partner’s, so you should probably stop having it and stick to masturbation.
4. Challenge Other Men
If you’re a cis white man and you’re still reading, congratulations. You don’t deserve a cookie, but this next point is important.
Challenge the bad behavior of other men. This is a difficult one because much of male bonding hinges on demonizing women.
It feels good to vent to your bros about some “stupid bitch” who wouldn’t give you the time of day. You and your bros make some awful comments about her, the ultimate point being that she is unworthy of your masculine prowess anyway. “She doesn’t deserve ‘the D,’ ha ha.” It’s fun laughing at the expense of a woman who rejected your advances, right?
Stop it. It reinforces the toxic belief that men are entitled to women’s bodies. If you keep believing this, the next time you meet a woman who isn’t interested in you, your rage will grow. You will anger when a woman doesn’t return your smile.
She doesn’t owe you anything, bro, not even a smile.
“Locker room talk” is bro-code for “saying horrible, abusive things about women.” When you hear it, you probably won’t be in a locker room, but you should challenge it anyway.
It’s easy. Just open your mouth and say something like, “Don’t talk about women like that.” If the talk continues, keep pushing back.
You might get called names, like “f*g” or “pussy.” You may be ostracized from your group. The good news is that if this happens, your bros aren’t brothers. They’re toxic and you shouldn’t be hanging around with them anyway.
If your friends are decent humans, you might actually teach them something. You might make a difference.
5. Support Survivors
Tarana Burke, the founder of the #MeToo Movement, recently gave a TED Talk that reminded us of a crucial point:
#MeToo is about supporting survivors.
“… Unequivocally, every human being has the right to walk through this life with their full humanity intact.
Part of the work of the #MeToo Movement is about the restoration of that humanity for survivors, because the violence doesn’t end with the act. The violence is also the trauma that we hold after the act.”
Survivors of sexual violence deserve support. Right now, available resources are stretched thin. Worse, the government is set to allow funding to lapse for The Violence Against Women Act, which provides financing and resources for programs that support survivors of sexual and domestic violence.
One of the most radical things that straight white men could do to create a seismic shift in our culture would be to invest a significant amount of our resources and time into supporting survivors.
There are many ways to do this.
Donate money to and/or volunteer to do life-changing work for survivors on RAINN’s Online and Phone Hotlines, as well as 1in6.org, which provides support to male victims of sexual violence.
Use RAINN’s database of Sexual Assault Service Providers (SASPs) to see what organizations provide support in your area. Make it a point to support them via donations or volunteering. Many offer training programs to become victim advocates, a tangible way to help survivors at a time they need it most.
6. Vote
Vote for politicians who support reproductive rights. Understand that abortion is healthcare. When you remove access to it, you are denying the right for people with uteruses to receive care.
Vote for women and non-binary candidates. Their average representation of women in Congress and other elected positions throughout the nation is around 20%, even though 50.8% of the American population are women. We need to have a better representation of women in politics if we’re going to create lasting change. Wealthy old white men tend to vote in their best interests.
7. Pay Attention to Sexual Violence in the Media
When you hear a news story about sexual violence, don’t turn away. These stories need to be heard and shared. This is the best way to understand the depth and breadth of the problem at hand.
Example: Dr. Christine Blasey Ford
I had many conversations with liberal men who couldn’t understand why this moment mattered, why anyone cared to dredge up decades-old allegations to ruin some guy’s career. It was about politics, right?
Wrong. It was about every survivor’s right to be heard and believed, whether the assault happened eight hours or eighty years ago.
Despite the result of Brett Kavanaugh being confirmed to The Supreme Court, the cultural impact of Dr. Ford’s testimony was seismic. It will go down in history as a critical moment in the fight to end sexual violence.
Side note for reading stories about sexual violence: there’s a ton of misogyny that infects journalism.
So men, if you want to listen to women, start by reading them.
8. Fight Rape Culture
Make decisions in your daily life that fight rape culture.
Vote with your wallet. Don’t buy into movies, shows, books, pornography, celebrities, or advertised products that promote a toxic view of masculinity. These things only exist because people are paying for them. If that revenue dries up, so do they.
Be active. Go to a protest or twelve. The thing about rape culture and misogyny is that they affect every single political issue, from taxes to healthcare to immigration.
9. Don’t Rape
Lastly, don’t rape.
Don’t abuse women, children, or anyone else. Don’t abuse yourself either.
If you’re a man who’s been the victim of abuse, don’t believe the myth that the abused turn into abusers. If our culture is quiet about the abuse of women, then it’s stuck in a soundproof booth when it comes to the abuse of men. You’re not any less of a man for being abused, and it wasn’t your fault. You deserve help.
Our competitive society doesn’t leave much room for empathy, but it should.
Make room to listen to others, to care, and to elevate their voices when appropriate.
We — all of us — can change this, but only if cis white men become part of the solution.
Until then, we’re the problem.