In Defense of “Man-Hating” Feminists

If you know me, or have read much of what I’ve written, you probably know I’m a feminist. If you’ve met me, you’ve probably heard me say “I hate men.” But do I really hate them, or do I just hate most of my experiences with them? I’ll go ahead and give it away. It’s the latter.

When I say “I hate men,” what I mean is “I hate the way men treat me.” The way men have always treated me. Let me explain. I hate men in the same way I hate a hot stove-top. They have a purpose, some of them are even really good at what they do, and perhaps they have full intention of serving that purpose. But (nearly) every time I let them too close to me, I end up getting burned.

I hate the male gaze (not to be confused with male gays, who I do usually love). I hate the way I can feel their eyes all over my body, everywhere but my face. I hate the way they look at me, see tits, and assume I’m for them. I hate the way they think I care how they feel about my appearance. I don’t. I didn’t ask. Should I smile more? Maybe you should give me a real reason to… like going the fuck away.

I do, however, love watching a cis-het man squirm looking at my hairy legs or armpits. It’s quite the defense mechanism. Once, I used to shave them religiously, worrying what people would think of me if I walked around with pale cactuses sticking out of my shorts. I even considered laser hair removal because I hated the idea of shaving them every single day for the rest of my life. But after being with a man (shocker, remember how I said I like gay men?) who accepted me regardless and was completely unbothered by my lack of “traditional femininity” it was a lot easier for me to embrace my own masculine side. And, boy, did I. If I could just lose a few cup sizes, I’d really be pretty happy on this front.

I “hate” men because, on average, I find they buy the lies that our gender presentation is related to what’s in our pants. It’s like their whole fucking identity is that they have a penis. And they think that my lack of penis defines mine. Bitch, I don’t need your goddamn cock. Nor do I even need one on my partner. Have I mentioned I love being queer? I’m not impressed by what you’re packing. These men aren’t willing to put in the real effort to define themselves any other way, nor are they willing to put in the effort to define me any other way. So, why should I put up with their bullshit?

I’ve often said that I’m basically built like a man, but with tits. Once, there was even a time a man walked up to me from behind, called me “sir,” and then when I turned around and he saw my boobs he was so embarrassed that he had “misgendered” me. Had he, though? Sometimes I forget that the majority of people see me and immediately assume I’m a woman, because my gender expression changes. Sometimes I walk on eggshells around women, assuming that, like a man, they will be uncomfortable around me. If more men went out of their way to keep women from being uncomfortable instead of telling us why we “shouldn’t” be uncomfortable, I don’t think I’d even be writing this.

I “hate” men because they take me for granted. They don’t trust me or believe in my talents no matter how much I’ve proven myself. They always think they know better. They don’t appreciate the things I do, for them or otherwise. They’re always looking for a reason to tell me why I’m not good enough. Why I’m not doing enough for them. What do you ever do for me, anyway? I can run circles around men all day long and then still get called lazy, but big boss man gets to sit at his desk all day signing checks and playing on his phone, and who gets praised? Who gets bonuses and endless raises? Not me. In fact, I know of at least one man who was getting accolades for my work for months. Did I ever get any recognition? Hardly.

I “hate” men because they’re just waiting for an excuse to talk about how hormonal I am. Oddly enough, when my PMDD (Pre-Menstrual Dysphoric Disorder) isn’t acting up (note that this happens before my period, that’s right, not one week but two of hell, yay me!), I’m actually usually happy on my period. Obviously, I could do without the bleeding, but my mood is just fine. You cannot tell unless I tell you. And I might, because if I have to deal with it, maybe you should have to hear about it. It’s honestly the least you could do. Why should I be ashamed of something I have no control over? Why do we give men an excuse not to learn about the bodies of the women they supposedly love?

And most of all, I “hate” men, because the majority of them treat me worse than fucking shit. Show me a woman who has never been taken advantage of, abused, or assaulted by a man in some way and I’ll show you a liar (can we say “pick-me?”) or at best, someone in deep denial. I’ve had my fair share. I’ve been pressured for sex, I’ve been manipulated, and I have been abused by men I didn’t know and men I trusted alike. And that’s really only the beginning. Still, my stories hardly compare to some of the women I know.

So, men, next time you get offended when someone says they hate your gender, perhaps you should consider why they might be saying that. Because here’s the thing, I’ve also loved men. One of my best friends is a man. I have multiple male friends, and I love them all. But, I’m not friends with men who treat me like most men do. I’ve actually met a staggering number of men recently that I actually feel that I can trust and would like to be closer to. But they’re exceptions. Because every rule has exceptions. My male friends don’t feel the need to remind me that “not all men” suck when I say “I hate men.” They know exactly the men I’m talking about, and guess what? They hate them too.

If you’re upset that a woman doesn’t immediately trust you, then I need you to look within. Statistically speaking, she shouldn’t. You don’t get to demand exception status without proving that you are exceptional. When have I ever been given that same courtesy? NEVER, the answer is never. I prove my worth constantly and rarely get recognized. I’m fucking tired.

If you want women to trust you, make sure you’re doing your best to be a man they can trust. And be patient. We don’t stop trusting men after one man hurts us, so how can you expect us to start trusting men after one man seems okay? If you consistently show up for us, you consistently treat us like we’re equal humans, and own up to it when you fall short (we all do), then you have nothing to worry about. The trust will come. But you don’t get to demand our love or even our tolerance.

If you somehow think that we owe you either of those things, then you are not a man any woman should trust. So fix yourself before you ask us to fix our perceptions of you. Finally, I’ll leave you with this song that I think expresses my feelings about men better than I ever could with mere words. And the video… brace yourself. It’s basically a modern masterpiece. She really takes “show, don’t tell” to a new level. I could probably write a whole essay about the video alone.