Are Men the Problem?

I had a professor who taught that the words “always” and “never” were not to appear in our writing. In the case that we used one–more often a product of a casual tone than an intentional absolute–she questioned its accuracy. She’d ask my nonfiction class questions like “did your mother truly make black beans and rice every day? There wasn’t one day you didn’t have them?” or “did your dog really run away each time the gate was left open? Were you always home to see it happen?” 

When I wrote for this class, I wondered where this impulse might come from--to preface what I would say with the claim that it wasn’t a one-off. Perhaps I felt it helped validate the occurrences that I reported, made me a more reliable narrator, or helped me color in my characters. Even then, I knew that there were no honest “always” and “never” elements in my life; I think I believed this before that course, beyond writing. Of course I brush my teeth each day. But once I slept through my alarm for a 5 AM flight, so gum would have to do that morning. I could say I always drink coffee, paint my nails red, or plan my week on Sunday…but sometimes I have an energy drink, get excited about a forest green, or save my scheduling for Monday morning.

And though I recognize such variability, sometimes my language fails to. When my college friends swear off all Vanderbilt men, I laugh with them and agree. Both because they are my friends and because khaki pants with cowboy boots should (truly) never be worn unironically. Plus, meeting every man at Vanderbilt would be impossible--a statistician might call this a valid evaluation based on a sample.

My friends are not the only ones with this attitude. An article I read in the New York Times Style section titled “Men? Maybe Not” details the cultural phenomenons widening the divide between women and men. The piece refers to “an explosion of young women who say they are deleting dating apps…female celebrities (among others) who have taken vows of celibacy or identify as “self-partnered”; divorce memoirs by older millennial and Gen X women” Scholars coined the term “heteropessimism,” defined as “performative disaffiliations with heterosexuality, usually expressed in the form of regret, embarrassment, or hopelessness about straight experience.”

After reading the piece I considered my own heterosexual relationship, filled with qualities I may once have said “never” to. I long believed I was meant to be with someone who was my opposite and could balance me; not someone as overly practical and regimented as I am. Yet being with my boyfriend, Gabriel, shows me the unique comfort of being with myself. This is a difficult feeling to describe--my grandma calls it having the same “essence.” I seldom have to explain the way my mind works to Gabriel. Similarly, had I committed to never being in a long distance relationship or dating someone older than me, I would have closed this door without knowing what was behind it.

The New York Times article also draws a relationship between the political climate and this extreme attitude. I was most surprised to find women interviewed claiming that “[their attitude is] a response that suits the political situation they’re observing.” The piece cites a political ad that ran in which a woman seems to lie to her husband about her vote. The article says “the sly implication was that women were at odds with men, that men were clueless and that heterosexual attachments required some negotiation and cunning to survive.”

If our relationships require negotiation, cunning, or need for the word “survive,” should we be in them in the first place? Here I agree with the language and actions rejecting men who treat women this way. But to me this is a character trait, not an identity issue. Perhaps men who align “with figures such as Joe Rogan, Andrew Tate and Nick Fuentes,” who the New York Times article credits for pushing the Trump-Vance campaign, have a similar set of values or interests. And while I disagree with what they promote, their manhood is not the root of that problem. 

Rejecting them on that basis certainly isn’t the solution either. This is the same logic that says we can’t generalize about anyone (or anything) at all; oversimplifications are inaccurate using both identities we can’t control–like race, religion, sexuality, or ability–and the ones we often can– like criminal history or political party. 

“Always” and “never” shut doors that shouldn’t even have handles because humans are layered. Gabriel is a gentle, intelligent person who admires my skincare routine and loves cooking for me. My father, Randy, cries at Paul Simon’s “Father and Daughter” and matches his colognes to his outfits. My little brother, Elliot, is supportive, accepting, and cares more about his hair than any woman I’ve met. The men in my life make me better. In a world where we can use our words to do anything, we should use them to honor nuance--not to eliminate it.