I am standing overlooking a sea of men, men of all different shapes and sizes and ages. I imagine the Uber driver’s voice in my head, gravelly, with a touch of humor, asking about this “uniform.” My colleague and I advised him that it was unofficial, at best, but both left out the part that was unquestionably circling through our overstimulated brains: for men- it’s the unofficial uniform for men.
I can’t speak for my friend and colleague, L, but I can tell you that I didn’t voice this part, because it felt ridiculous. Not because in my twenty-five years in the industry, I’ve rarely seen women wear khakis and a navy-blue blazer to these events, but rather, because trying to find a woman to point out the difference would be like a game of Where’s Waldo in Disney during February break.
At a different time, I might be able to laugh about this- the gender disparity, my solid footing as a minority in the industry I’ve given more than half of my life to, but I can’t, now. I find myself feeling wholly unsettled.
Unlike others I speak with, and some whom have platforms, I don’t think that this toxic masculinity, trad wife pushing bullshit is a new phenomenon. I don’t think the closer look at women in certain professions is a revolutionary concept. Not even close. I do think that many of the insecure, angry worms who are pushing that agenda feel more comfortable out in the daylight than maybe they did a few years ago, but I firmly believe they were around, operating from the shadows.
I hear many describe the ways in which men are being influenced and corrupted by these public figures, and I get it, but also, my gut tells me it’s not hard to be captivated by messaging that proclaims you as number one, always, particularly when that message is not so subtly reinforced wherever you look.
Women are told to be nice, to be compliant, to be prettier and thinner, to want a spouse or partner (to complete them, obviously), to be interesting (but not too showy), to be successful (but not in a way that overshadows the people who surround them), and to always understand that it is not necessarily about their qualifications, or intelligence, but rather, whether society deems them worthy.
Men are taught to be tough, to keep their emotions close to the vest, to be providers, to be tough, to defend (when necessary and also, when not), to be courageous in all situations, and to never mire in self-pity or weakness. We have, forever, utilized such phrases as “boys will be boys” as some kind of universal call to shitty behavior, and not held many men accountable for the harm that they’ve caused to those around them. And no, I’m not just talking about women.
I was in a work event a few years ago where a group of the “cool” guys were standing in a circle (mixed company) and berating a man they had deemed a weak outsider. The leader of the pack, a particularly spectacular dickhead, had a glint in his eye, a sparkle. He loved it. The more uncomfortable he made this “less than” man, the more uneasy the rest of the group, the more gleeful he looked. I told him to knock it off, but everyone else stayed silent. It was unclear whether they approved of his behavior, but it was crystal clear that the pecking order and expectations would not allow them to step up and stop the abuse.
While I’m not particularly fond of the man who was leading this asshole charge, I am not going to condemn him, either. He’s unkind, sure, and rude, yes, but also, everything in his universe had told him that this behavior is acceptable. Worse than that, he has come to learn that his behavior leads (directly or otherwise) to success. Recognition, promotions, more money, and all the perks. And yes, he has a wife and a family.
Why am I describing something that you know and have heard one million times?
Well, while this might not go over well, I think that we aren’t doing this thing right. I think that we are looking at these men and those that inform them (you know all the names) and screaming from the rooftops that we need to silence them. We need to get them off the air. They need to lose their audience.
What happens then?
Have you eradicated the problem?
You have not. You have only removed the loudest in their crowds. You have only gotten rid of what is arguably the noisiest component. You have not meaningfully shifted any of this phenomenon. You have not dug to the root core- the dark, murky bottom that we, as women, are not willing to dig into.
It’s us, too.
We’re the problem, it’s us.
We are all contributing to this nonsense. We are living in a way that supports this narrative, we are raising children in a way that lifts these ideals, we are parading as pro-equality warriors, while we systemically cannibalize ourselves and dismantle progress.
And no, I’m not telling you that girls can’t wear frilly dresses and boys shouldn’t play with cars and trucks. That’s completely irrelevant.
It’s the behavior. It’s the fact that we still ask little girls if they have a crush on someone, and when they say no, we tell them that there’s still time. It’s the fact that when we see a little boy bugging the fuck out of a little girl, instead of asking whether she is okay with that, we say it’s cute and wax poetically about how much he likes her. It’s the fact that I struggled putting on cute ass sneakers at the conference, despite the pouring rain and my aching feet (from very shitty heels the day prior), because I was afraid of what it would “look like”, knowing full well that ALL the men around me were wearing rubber bottomed faux dress shoes.
We focus on the big stuff because it feels easier, more palatable. It’s too hard to take responsibility. It’s too challenging to accept that we are part of this movement, even though we loathe it with every cell in our bodies.
We don’t want to stop getting Botox or love our cellulite in public, or wear what’s comfortable to an industry conference. We don’t want to appear unfeminine, and we don’t want to make a scene, ever, lest we be called a bitch. We don’t want to say no, but we can’t say yes too much. We don’t want to be too much or too little and we want to think about what that means, constantly.
And I think there’s an in-between, if I’m being honest. There is a place where we can do things that make us happy (like wearing a frilly skirt or tending to the wrinkles in our forehead or covering the grays we have emerging at an alarming rate), provided that we are not doing it in fealty to some ill-fitting societal constructs and instead, because they really bring us joy and make us feel better.
We need to take more chances. We need to be braver. We need to support each other. You want to stay home with your children and raise them? I think that’s spectacular and really hard, but I think you should also support my decision to not have children and/or others’ decisions to work. I think we need to cut the shit with the judgment. I don’t care if certain members of our government have had fillers put in their face or changed their hairstyles. I care that they are deplorable people and are causing the ruin of everything they touch. I think we all suffer with imposter syndrome in some form, but we have to know our worth and insist on being paid equitably, even when it’s the hardest thing we do.
Do I get caught up in it all? Well, of course I do. I’m human, after all. I’m not telling you that I’m perfect. Far from it. I do a lot to appeal to the norm, but then, I check myself and tell myself I don’t have to. I don’t give a shit that I’m wearing my Adidas x Liberty kicks instead of heels, and I will give you an honest view on the speaker that was chosen (discussion for another day), and instead of having to prove something and going to that last party to roll hard, I AM going to go back to my room and go to bed so I can wake up, work out, and start it all over again the next day.
I don’t know if in my lifetime I’ll look out onto that crowd and see faces of all genders and races, but I hope it comes after me, and I’m sure as hell going to work to try and make that happen.
X
L.
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