I don’t generally do the handholding along the Cookie Crumb Trail routine, but I figured I should make an exception in this case. I titled my August ninth post “Fuck. I Hate Men,” only half joking. It was in response to accounts of forced abortion in China and to the conflict between Russia and Georgia. I was lashing out in disgust, frustration and fear, which really isn’t an excuse. I am a feminist, and whether I like it or not people will interpret my words as speaking for feminists. So let me make this clear: the vast majority of feminists do not hate men. As noted by the Feminism 101 crowd, Feminists hate misogyny, not men.
I don’t hate men, if only because having a deep and abiding personal hatred for each and every one of you would be a waste of my time and emotional energy. I recognise the statement “I hate men” is a little unfair, unaugmented. Even after a few thousand years of oppression I don’t want to condemn an entire group of people based on a chromosome. I am angry, angry at a lot of you. I am angry that I’m treated as a sex object, angry that I know far too many rape survivors, angry that I will not receive equal pay or equal respect for equal work. I’m angry that my identity is supposed to shift with my marital status, angry that I can’t actually get married because of the bogus gender binary, angry that marriage is such a crappy oppressive institution. I’m angry at being othered, being the deviant, angry how my otherness impacts negatively on my health care and my right to bodily integrity. Yes, I’m angry.
There is a difference between anger and hatred, a difference between an oppressive system and an oppressor class. So men, by all means, become allies, help us in the struggle against the patriarchy. You can participate in this fight and I welcome you.