You know, fuck it, I’m gonna write a blog that’s been in my heart for a while. Probably the main reason I haven’t yet is because any woman who goes out of her way to say she appreciates men in this political climate is accused of having Stockholm syndrome (or worse).
A quick analogy: as a life-long veg, but especially as a vegan, I’ve received messaging that any unusual level of appetite or physical sensation will be interpreted as the “fault” of my diet, if I express it to normies. Ie, I’m still hungry after eating, I’m not hungry even though it’s time to eat, I feel bloated, I feel sleepy, whatever. Probably a lot of our physical sensations are connected to our diets, but it’s just interesting to have a diet that everyone is so quick to pathologize, right? As they themselves stagger from cholesterol pillar to cholesterol post, amiright.
I think that’s got to be what it feels like to be a man right now: pathologized, and in an essential way. (And it’s easy to observe how the same can happen, and has happened, for women, but that’s not what this particular blog is about.) It was tough for me to take my scattered and unique observations and translate them into such a definitive perspective…until something happened, just recently. It was one of those ‘straw that broke the camel’s back’ moments.
It had to do, but only peripherally, with Jordan Peterson, who obviously I’m not shy about admiring, because I’m not a liberal who has to virtue signal on only the approved notes and strictly avoid the rest, for fear of being labeled tone deaf (or worse). Side note: it’s becoming increasingly obvious to me why it was imperative to discredit Jordan Peterson in the public’s perception, because everything he warned us about is actually happening. It starts with identity politics and it ends with a regime and, historically, millions of deaths. Peterson’s ask is that we construct ourselves…well, constructively, instead, and become very picky about the dogma, the ideologies, we are willing to accept, because they matter. To say Peterson is a champion of free speech would be an understatement.
But the public has been effectively insulated from his strong message in this regard, thanks to a muscular smear campaign. The effect of the smear campaign is such that, while Jane Q. Public may be only peripherally aware that, you know, the sky is blue etc., they do know *for sure* that Jordan Peterson is a fascist, a transphobe, and a misogynist. Interesting, right? And I say Jane Q. Public because our political climate is such that feminists, particularly, have taken umbrage at Peterson’s ideas. While this in itself is often regarded as proof of Peterson’s misogyny, I’ve noticed that feminists taking umbrage should not, in itself, be necessarily interpreted as significant. It’s a movement that hasn’t always chosen its battles wisely, let’s just admit.
So anyway: then you essentially say to Jane Q. Public, “Show me on this doll where Jordan Peterson hurt you”, they can’t. They take a lofty, yet fragile tone: studies have shown this, toxic ideology that, etcetera and so forth.
Well then, how do you know?, it’s only logical to ask.
BECAUSE — and this is significant to my point — his audience is primarily male.
There are actually two chestnuts they roast. The primarily male audience thing is one; the other is that Peterson refused to pay trans students their preferred pronoun fealties. And despite his actual students, from his actual classes, vouching for Peterson as the epitome of respect, and affirming that his beef was never with trans students but was with the Canadian government, setting dangerous precedents in the erosion of free speech by paying lip service to the trans agenda via a rollout of compulsory pronoun mandates and accompanying fines — you just can’t get these liberals to wrap their heads around it. These are the same people who say things like ‘disarm hate!’ in regards to the 2nd Amendment, so what are you gonna do. They’ve been brainwashed to think that we’re all safer without Constitutional rights and also, importantly, without functioning males.
Now, I know you think I’m gonna say “characterizing all males as potentially dangerous is sexist,” but guess what? All males are potentially dangerous. Functioning males are potentially dangerous, but more dangerous by far are hordes of non-functioning males. The human male is the most dangerous animal, the most dangerous force, on the face of the earth, in all of history, except for, like, asteroids. That’s real. And that’s why, when people talk about the importance of intact nuclear families with functioning fathers, I’d suggest we all meditate on that, instead of assuming it’s some criticism of females and femininity.
So let’s get back to my a-ha moment about how deeply males are pathologized. I’ve gone around with people on the subject of Jordan Peterson before, usually as a result of their initiation, and nothing about any of it really surprises me. When you create a thought-police climate, it’s not necessarily the thinkers getting arrested and beaten who are the issue, amiright.
But yeah, this most recent liberal judge, jury, and execution of Jordan Peterson’s ideas, on grounds of his having a primarily male audience, pissed me off just enough to sit down and write on the subject.
It is easy for me to appreciate men and masculinity because I’m not male, or masculine. I’m not competing with men on any level, because why would I? That’s stupid. Even when I share a workplace with men, or a chain of command, or a home, or a squat rack, or a rifle range, or a military convoy, or a lecture spotlight, or any other thing, I’m not in competition with men *as* men. I’m a different animal — an apple to their orange — and the grace and ease with which I negotiate most things, with most men, is due to the fact that I know I’m a different animal from them, and I’m comfortable with it. I’m comfortable with it because no amount of university or social conditioning was able to convince me otherwise, and for that I feel fortunate.
Like all women, I have my “masculine energy” aspects, with which I advance my projects and interests. I’m using a lot of my masculine energy right now, writing this blog. I’m not offended by this idea of my masculine energy being the thing that drives impulses forward because why would I? That’s stupid. My feminine energy is glorious, and my masculine energies serve her best interests, as well they should. There is no issue here.
This is not about genitals. I could change my hormones and cut off my tits and wear boxer briefs and I’d still use my masculine energies to serve my feminine best interests, because that’s the relationship to my own energies I’m accustomed to. Is that how the energies work for men? I have no fucking idea — you’d have to ask one. I don’t really understand men, I don’t identify with a lot of what motivates them, and I certainly don’t compete with them. I just stand over here in my comfortable feminine energy and appreciate them. I appreciate their differences. They can do things I can’t do. They want to do things I don’t want to do. Because they’re men.
Now, I know I lost almost everyone several paragraphs ago on the low-hanging limb called “I don’t compete with men in the workplace”. Isn’t that the whole problem, though? Women are the Jane-come-latelies to the workforce and men begrudge us almost everything there, and sexually harass us, and stymie our upward mobility, and out-earn us for doing the same jobs, etcetera and so forth, right?
I know you think I’m going to offer some platitudes, here, but actually I’m gonna take it the other direction and just remind you — men also burned a whole bunch of us at the stake, in the pre-gender-inclusive-workforce days. Like, millions of us. Men have done horrible, awful things to women, because they were women. Men have raped, burned, butchered, tortured, imprisoned, and otherwise inconvenienced women, because they were women, throughout most of human history, most places in the world.
You know what’s interesting, though? Men have also raped, burned, butchered, tortured, imprisoned, and otherwise inconvenienced other men throughout most of human history, most places in the world, when they weren’t, themselves, busy being raped, burned, butchered, tortured, imprisoned, and otherwise inconvenienced.
And finally: although women behaving badly can and does occur, women as a gender are largely innocent of the bulk of history’s raping, burning, butchering, torturing, imprisoning, and otherwise inconveniencing, en masse, groups of people.
Welp, there you have it! Men are bad and women are good.
In fact, men are so obstinately and inconsolably bad that it’s unthinkable they’d deserve, god forbid, their own advocate, calling them to tune out the noise and the pressure and the disdain and the multitude of reasons to feel useless, unloveable, misunderstood, unfairly judged, angry, obsolete, as males; to tune out the painful, unanswerable, bewildering depth of women’s ambient anger, and to instead look within themselves, and to find there the seed of personal responsibility, of a self that will not apologize for what was beyond its control, and yet will freely accept the burden and the blessing of masculinity now, in a society largely convinced they represent nothing so much as a liability.
How dare men desire to improve themselves, and after everything they’ve done? How dare they desire to form their own communities and their own maps of meaning? How dare they flock to thinkers and influencers who broadcast appreciation for masculinity, generally, and offer guidance for how to be upstanding men? How dare they grow muscles and beards and consider their presence in their children’s lives to be meaningful?
And I know — some of them are just scum. I’ve met them, and I can attest to this. Some of them are wounded, stuck in a rut of fearing, and therefore loathing, women. Some of them hate their mothers. Some of them hate their fathers. Some of them abandon their children. Some of them don’t use a condom or have the courtesy to pull out, and then it’s the woman’s problem to get an abortion or become a single mom or look into adoption. Some of them repeat this pattern like it’s their full time job. Some of them cheat. Some of them are deadbeats. Some of them leave with no warning, and no way to put food on the table. Some of them subscribe to religions that reduce women to second class citizens. Some of them are literal serial killers, serial rapists. A whole bunch of them are in prison. A whole lot more are locked in active addiction, replicating patterns of chaos and destruction in the lives of everyone they’re close to. Whatever is bad, and poorly thought out, and evil, and wrong, there’s some man out there, doing it, guaranteed.
And whatever is good, and brave, and thankless, and right, there’s also millions of men, billions of men, out there, doing that, even when no one’s watching. Men are just kind of a big mixed bag, eh? They are so many things, and women can’t fix them. The only thing that can fix men, is men. The only thing women can do is make those men feel it’s worth the effort, and since men are hardwired to do nearly goddamn anything, for women, that part is pretty easy.
Alternately, we can make them feel it’s not worth the effort.
So when I say, ‘I don’t compete with men in the workforce,’ I mean it. They have their own stuff. I bring my skills and excellence and good humor and at least an initial willingness to appreciate everyone on their own terms, provided they can act right, and I don’t know what to tell you — it just works out. I don’t get huffy, out the gate, about male coworkers thinking they know more than me, because frequently they do.
I can certainly detail a list of on-the-job grievances I’ve had with xyz male coworkers, or even xyz types of male coworkers, but I can do the same thing with females and female types. I’m not trying to characterize any of this as a soft-focus, problem-free, sacred feminine triumph, I’m just saying it’s fucking work. It’s where you go to hang out with people you’d never willingly interact with otherwise, because: money, and I think if you actively look for things to appreciate about people, it all goes a little more smoothly.
And just for what it’s worth, I had a female supervisor at my last job, where I had 100% male coworkers otherwise (I was a CDL truck driving instructor), and my supervisor was nearing retirement and was actively attempting to pressure-slash-mentor me into being her replacement. All my male coworkers were like “You should definitely be the one to step up and run this program” and I was like “I came here to take on minimal responsibility for maximal pay, homie.” Men just get excited because women actually enjoy doing paperwork and organizing things, which I am occasionally guilty of.
And I guess if I could speak to the one workforce trend that I think is the most problematic for everyone, men and women alike, it’s this: wounded women being touchy about everything, and getting really rigid in their masculine energy as a result, and men freezing them out because they feel incredibly unsafe as a result. I’ve seen this play out a million times and it’s one of those chicken-or-the-egg problems. Some men antagonize female coworkers on purpose, of course, but most men are, like, trying not to get crosswise. But men, being men, are so prone to put their foot in their mouth. They tend to “perform” a bit, for women, helplessly, instead of just being normal, so it can go real wrong real fast. Or I’ll put it this way: men become self-conscious around women in a way that they do not around other men. Because men are hardwired to respond to women. That’s just the truth of it. I’m not saying they don’t have a lot of agency about how they respond, but when a woman walks into a roomful of men, the vibe changes, and there’s nothing men or women can do about that.
So let’s say this woman has manifested for herself a wounding experience with male coworkers, which is certainly easy to do — they perform because they want to impress her, and she thinks they’re trying to one-up her and so she one-ups them instead, and it all gets tangled up because they just want to be appreciated and noticed by her, which is the response that she’d freely offer if she was in her laid-back, relaxed, feminine energy, but of course she’s not. She’s in her brittle, abrasive, defensive energy, which in itself leaves men flustered and likely to misstep. All this can play out even with zero “sexual” energies at stake; even if everyone in the situation is feeling entirely platonic. It goes deeper than that.
So she’s manifested a wounding experience, and she goes in full combat brittle, and this puts men on high alert. Literally anything can happen now. She may claim sexual harassment. She may claim hostile workplace. She may claim discrimination. She may cost them their jobs, and remember — men don’t have shit else but their jobs, when it comes to their self esteem. I’m not saying this is ideal, I’m just saying it’s reality, and certainly common, practically speaking.
This female coworker’s volatile, brittle energy may cost them (their interpretation of) everything, so they freeze her out. It feels like a big risk to interact with her. My friend Andrew offered a woman a coffee, in passing — he was going on a coffee run for the logistics staff, at a fire in Montana this past summer — and she reported him to the team for sexual harassment. This stuff happens, you guys. And obviously it happens the other way too, but let’s just acknowledge that men risk a lot when they work around women, in this political climate, period. Period.
I think you see what I mean. It gets crazy, sometimes, in the workforce, with men and women trying to get along, but it’s incredibly unsophisticated to default to this “men: bad, women: good” binary, when tensions arise. Unless it’s a contest of physical strength, where men are likely to be the clear winners, men simply aren’t that powerful, and women simply aren’t that powerless, and the women I know who beg to differ tend to be of the brittle, volatile, wounded variety, I’ve noticed. That sucks, and it’s hard to soften that dynamic once you get it going, but it’s just kind of cause and effect at that point. I’ve been very wounded by life, and men’s decisions in my life, in the past, and I’ll tell you — nothing takes me out of my feminine power, and out of my god-given leverage, faster than woundedness.
Personally, I see men as being, in some ways, bulldozers. Bulldozers can be a force of creation, and they can also destroy, but whichever one it is, they give it a lot of juice. It makes sense to me that human beings would survive and thrive only, and because of, the specific ways men and women are different, and I’m not just talking about bodies. Anyway, I’m not gonna go head to head with a bulldozer, because that would be stupid, and I don’t need to. I’m a woman, which is a privilege and an honor, and it’s their privilege and honor to bulldoze things out of our way, or into the shapes we most prefer, and it all works out pretty good if you let it. Bulldozers can only accomplish so much, and the only males who haven’t figured that out are the non-functioning males.
So I guess, if I can say anything with this blog, it’s that men are a lot more energetically receptive to aligned femininity than even they realize. Our culture, our society, our history, and our educations have given us very few meaningful lenses through which to examine this, and even fewer tools with which to work. It’s understandable that we, as women, would feel our energies to be scattered, working at cross purposes, and just as likely to be misinterpreted by ourselves as by men. It’s a project, for sure. Men have dished out a lot of hurt to women, over the centuries, and out of all the things they do know how to fix, they don’t have the first clue how to fix us. And frankly, I don’t either. But I’m not going to badgered by my culture into a defensive, brittle posture, as regards men. It hasn’t played out well in the micro and certainly won’t fix shit on the macro.
I just know that I’m an appreciator, when I’m centered and in my power, and that my life works better when I appreciate people. I don’t feel I need to take out my fucking abacus and attempt to balance the gender budget before I decide to look for the best in men. And why wouldn’t I look for the best in men? Why does that feel, even to me, like a risky, controversial thing to say? And how does that affect men and men’s willingness to do the hard work of becoming the men we need, now, when everything about their journey — forwards, backwards, and sideways — is just as likely to be pathologized as recognized?
So yes, I felt it in my heart to write this blog today. Right or wrong, based on your own thoughts, the thoughts the MSM has assigned to you, or some evolving compendium of the two, Jordan Peterson’s ideas have acted as a beacon for men. What does it mean that they functioned, apparently, without one, before? What does it mean that there was a vacuum there to be filled in the first place?
I think it means a lot of things, very few of which I’m articulate enough, or properly positioned, to outline. Also, I’ve become very hungry in the course of writing this blog and I need to eat. But in closing, I think that men are trying to be men, they want to be men, they want to understand how to wield the power and the danger that is their masculine inheritance, whether we admit it or not. And everyone everywhere has permission to treat these ideas however they choose, but I’m not gonna be part of the anti-man cool kids club. Men: thanks for what you do. And if you suck: get your shit together. Women: we’re a whole different animal, and that’s a wonderful thing. Nothing is wrong. We are all fine, and we can all get better.