On Hating Men
How one French feminist repackaged standard-issue feminism with a provocative title
Pauline Harmange hates men so much she wrote a book about it.
She calls it: I Hate Men.
Catchy title. Right?
It’s more elegant in the original French: Moi, les hommes, je les deteste. I found it on a table at The Strand. A slender volume clothed in a bright yellow cover. It was supposedly banned in France.
I say supposedly banned because in translation by Natasha Lehrer, the book is about 10,000 words of boilerplate feminism. Men are bastards, writes Harmange, to such a degree that making any effort to single out good ones—such as her own husband—is ultimately futile. Misandry, she concludes, is a positive state of mind for feminists. After all, she writes, haven’t they been accused of man-hating since time immemorial? Rather than argue to the contrary, take the label. Own it.
How else are women to progress without seeing their efforts co-opted by sniveling, yapping, needy man-children who invariably latch on to feminist endeavor, mostly for the sake of reassurance and pussy.
Kick them to the curb and embrace our sisters instead!
Sound familiar?
All good. But haven’t we heard this before? Hermange writes well, but she’s got nothing to offer with the sheer frisson of Valerie Solanis’s: He will even fuck a corpse!
A lot of people don’t like men. Many of them are women. This is nothing new. Some men object strongly. They’re not used to the idea of being hated, denigrated, set aside simply for who they are. Most are white cis-gendered guys like your humble correspondent.
But, honestly, I don’t particularly care.
I don’t stand before most of Hermange’s litany of charges: I believe in equal pay, access to all reproductive services, discretion for victims of sexual violence, decent behavior in public and private, etc. I do nearly all of our housework, am regarded as a good listener because I never interrupt, and I try to treat all people with respect.
If that makes me a feminist, fine.
If it doesn’t, equally fine.
I learned this from my dad, a WW II vet who married a woman that didn’t enjoy good health. He stepped up. Always. Never seeking approbation for cooking, doing laundry, or scrubbing countertops. Feminism to him was a conversation women had with their gynecologists.
So, what’s all this mansplaining and virtue-signaling about?
I give Harmange credit for admitting that hating men was a conscious decision on her part. I don’t take her hatred personally, because I don’t have to. That’s prima facie evidence of patriarchy right there:
I don’t have to.
Too many other men, and some women, feel belittled by attitudes such as hers. They regard it as sexism or reverse sexism, or what have you.
It’s not.
We don't need another synonym for sexual prejudice or gender bias or bigotry. Sexism as the systematic oppression of women by men is useful because it describes an authentic phenomenon. Ergo, while Hermange and those who think as she does might be bigots, they’re not sexist.
Still, what is she asking here?
Men should shut up and stand aside? Okay. If so, does that mean real power is given rather than taken, after all?
Or, maybe men should become active in the policing of other men? Censuring bad behavior in no uncertain terms. How else to deconstruct male privilege?
But, consider the source. Hermange is demanding that men cast aside their own community—because no one wants to hang around with a sanctimonious buttinsky—on behalf of people who claim to hate him.
Why would he do that?
If you want to discuss patriarchy, white supremacy, propose simple, concrete steps that can be taken to make the world more just, more equitable for everyone, I’m right there. I don’t have to agree with everything you say in order to listen, nor do I expect you to agree with me. At all.
But, I have no interest in indulging anyone’s hatred. What for? Anyone who would, anyone masochistic enough to revel in the hatred others express for him has nothing worthwhile to offer. I left my invitation to join the SCUM Auxilliary in the back pocket of my polyester bell-bottom disco pants. Where it will likely remain for the foreseeable future.
When Andrea Dworkin asked when will men stop hating women? I think she begged the question (in the original and correct sense of that term) of whether men as a collective entity actually hate women. Developmental psychologists argue that early life dependency on mother, a form the infant boy can never hope to emulate, prompts resentment and, ultimately, hatred.
This, if true, suggests that men are hard-wired to hate women. After all, early-life dependency isn’t a fluke, or a one-off circumstance. It’s not going to change until men grow breasts.
Compare men’s alleged hatred towards women with the US Civil War. Neo-Confederate apologists love to argue that the war and southern secession had nothing to do with slavery. Instead they point to tariffs, ownership of transportation infrastructure, taxation, and other, fairly quotidian differences between north and south as the true casus belli.
Bunk.
Points of contention, cultural differences, resentments, etc., simmer throughout various sectors of the nation. As they simmer between the sexes. They are not war. And they are not hatred. I don’t believe men collectively hate women. Some do. Sure. And the problem, as always, is that the haters speak louder.
Just as, for the moment, Hermange is speaking louder.
If her book moves beyond the Women’s Studies table at The Strand, it will undoubtedly provoke outrage among some of my sensitive, not-all-men brethren, condemnation from silly, too-much-time-on-their-hands MRAs, and perhaps mildly scandalized delight from women who have secretly questioned their commitment to feminist principles.
My own reaction to Moi, les hommes, je les deteste! is, go for it, sis!
Is that a trifle condescending? Yes. Certainly. How else am I supposed to react to someone who claims to hate me? Hating men, or hating anyone, isn’t the same thing as announcing said hatred to the world. In so doing, Hermange, says, Begone! I want nothing from you!
What else can I do but acquiesce?