Womxn Are Concealing Their Rage: A Manifesto

I want to make a disclaimer that in my piece, I am going to use the terms ‘women’ and ‘men’ as if they are a true solid thing that exists in the world. I do not believe that they are. This entire binary idea is a hoax, a ruse, created by culture with little foundation in science. But in reality, like money and laws and a million other man-made conceits, these concepts deeply determine the day-to-day experience of the people on this planet. So however you identify, whatever experience you know to be true, you will likely recognize yourself in what I’m about to say. Or if you do not, you are likely a man for the purposes of this discussion and should take some time to assess accordingly.

In human history, it would be difficult to point to a period that was a really great time to be a woman. It has mostly sucked. And while things are objectively better than ever for many of us, these last few years have been pretty heady times for women, perhaps because we thought we had achieved a certain level of equality, of respect - an understanding that when it came to a woman’s place in the world, certain things had finally been agreed upon, certain things had finally been shed. And then, like a scene in a predictable horror movie, the trap door opened and we realized we hadn’t actually made it out of the haunted house and likely never would. Contrary to claims of ‘political correctness’ run amok, it turned out that being an outright misogynist was no barrier to power and adoration. Suddenly, almost any male entertainer you ever enjoyed had probably aggressively masturbated at several hundred women. If you were a woman who ever aspired to position of leadership or authority, any confidence that you had that your abilities would allow you to be taken seriously was dashed with every breaking news cycle. It has been a real bummer, to say the least.

Personally, these events have resulted in a growing, simmering rage. And I know I’m not alone. All these dudes. All their bullshit. When Naomi Alderman’s novel ‘The Power’ was released in late 2016, it was almost like the dreams of millions of women had willed a piece of literature into being. As I described the premise to women I knew - that the women of the world suddenly developed the ability to shoot electricity out of their hands, punishing destructive and abusive men and upsetting gendered power dynamics - the almost universal reaction was, “Yes. I want that.” Spoiler alert: the book is more complicated than straight out revenge fantasy wish fulfillment, but I think the reception speaks to a share and often unspoken anger that exists among so many women.

I don’t think it was a surprise to most women that such terrible men existed. Even the ubiquitousness was fairly predictable, “Oh, every other dude is a closet sex pest? Yeah, sounds accurate.” But for me, at least, it was the reaction of non-terrible men that got to me. The cluelessness. The shrugging resignation. The nitpicking. The fear of being ‘swept up’ in the outing of odious people doing inarguably horrific things. The willingness to condemn, to support, to comfort, but then to immediately lose interest and move on. The centering of their own feelings in every #metoo conversation - as if the possibility that you might be mad at THEM was most pressing matter of the day. Millions of women were reliving their own trauma and at the same time listening to some dude drone on and thinking, “Oh, nod now. Smile now. He’d be so hurt if he knew your attention has drifted.” (I almost took out that part. Too mean! Feelings could be hurt! I've had men stop talking to me because of a joke. But then I remembered the number of dudes who have settled in for literal naps while I was talking and reconsidered.)

You’re probably thinking, “This chick has a real beef with men.” But honestly, I don’t. Or I didn’t. I actually love men, which perhaps accounts for the particular bitterness of my disappointment. For so many years, I had given men the benefit of the doubt - assumed that but for a few minor differences of bring up, they were the same as me. They weren’t unknowable or malevolent. But then, I fully realized the wide gulf between myself and even the most sympathetic men. Men are able to live a life benignly unbothered by huge swaths of knowledge and experience. Grown men can have escaped ever even bothering to think about critical things, because no one has ever asked or expected them to. They haven’t needed to. Men cringe at the concept of ‘privilege’ because they don’t see themselves as privileged compared to their peers - other men (who else could they compare themselves to? who else exists?), and maybe privilege is the wrong word anyway. Unbothered. Unknowing. Unencumbered. Not stumbling blindly, but walking blindly with the absolute confidence that the world would move any potential hazards out of their way before they can trip. Oh how I envy men.

We get distracted by horrible men, by the bad actors and perpetrators. And don’t get me wrong - they are legitimately terrible. But real change, real equality, real freedom for women is going to take a shift in all men. In men who may believe survivors, help with the housework, even show up to a women’s march with The Future is Female! on a handmade sign. They are good men, but at the end of the day, you hear those dreaded words come out of their mouth - “Just tell me how I can help!” and you realize you’re still planning the office birthday party - they’re just asking what they can bring.

In recent years, the concept of emotional labor has moved into the mainstream and brought attention to a concept that many women felt but hadn’t been able to put a label to. Like Betty Friedan’s problem without a name, women were able to express and discuss the exhausting inequality of being in charge of thank you notes and children’s schedules, of remembering birthdays and clothing sizes. And these things are important and very real in the lives especially of heterosexual mothers. But like so many steps forward for gender equality, we failed to push far enough. To me, even the term is demeaning. Emotional labor? Of course women would be doing ‘emotional’ labor. It’s set up perfectly for some dismissive dude to say, “Well, women are just naturally better at emotional labor.” In reality, the labor that falls to women is emotional, physical, overwhelmingly mental, and, above all, invisible.

We laugh ruefully about the stories of famous women of the past typing up their husband’s school papers or their lover’s novels. But how many women do you know who do what is essential actual unpaid - should-be-paid - work for men in their lives under the guise of ‘helping.’ How many women are the arrangers for their partners, their grown sons, their male coworkers? How many women around the world are at this very moment saying in unison, “I'll take care of it. It's taken care of.” Women’s labor is labor. It is stuff that needs to be done and wouldn’t be done any other way. It is the basis of our economy and social structures and every woman knows that if she stopped, it would all fall apart. So she doesn’t. For the greater good. In her incredible book on unpaid labor and economics, Who Cooked Adam Smith’s Dinner? Katrine Marcal reveals that on average, women globally spend over two-thirds of their day doing unpaid work. Doing labor that is essential, but seen as invisible and unproductive by capitalism because it isn’t attached to a paycheck. GDPs don’t account for it because it is just assumed to exist, like gravity, propping up the important doings of men and money.

Somewhere around four years ago, I came to this conference to rail against Sheryl Sandberg’s Lean In. (Sidenote, thank you to this conference for the opportunity to rail against stuff. We don’t all get to do that in our day jobs.)

In his recent book, Why Do So Many Men Incompetent Men Become Leaders (and How to Fix It), Tomas Chamorro-Preumzic argues that the dysfunction in most organizations and governments is due not to the barriers placed for women in leadership, but, in fact, the LACK of barriers for men in leadership. The premise, and the potential solutions, are far more complex than I can go into today, but I think the salient point for us to consider today is this: Lean In and so many other woman-focused leadership philosophies center on what women could change, what we could be doing better, how we can approach inequalities and ultimately change them. They do not address the fact that men continue to set culture and expectations in the workplace and in the home. In my presentation four years ago, I suggested that women not lean in and feed into a capitalist system that feeds off of their labor, but, in fact lean BACK and take a goddamn nap. I have not changed my views on that, especially when it comes to the focus of feminism and our mental goddamn health. But in the meantime, I have also realized that no progress will be made if while women are trying to get their nap, the men in their lives (and the children, whose constant hectoring is never directed at or redirected by their fathers) are poking said women, saying, “Hey...sorry to bother you. Are you awake? Where did you put the frozen waffles? Where is my special hat for hat day? Are you up? Can I have a snack? I can’t find my socks.” This is where reality and idealism meet, and where tired, overcommitted women are unable to reach their full potential.

Here is what I mourn: the things never created, completed, dreamed of, accomplished by women because they were too tired, too busy, too preoccupied with doing more than their fair share of everything. Those who were scared off or traumatized by men who were given pass after pass so they could maintain their position despite being mediocre or terrible. Women who spent so much time politely listening that they never got to speak. Women who could’ve made more jokes. Women who had to make sure everything was taken care of at home and arrange for their freedom to work late, or go out with friends, or go to a conference, or, I don’t know, golf when the men all around them just got to declare their plans and let the women scramble to accommodate. Women who would’ve been better leaders, better artists, better athletes. Women who would’ve had so much more fun. Women whose attention was too divided, whose mind was too scattered, whose time was too disjointed, to create the amazing things that were in there somewhere. Women who never got to want more because they already had too much.

The obvious challenge of blissful unawareness is, of course, that it’s difficult to fix a problem that you’re oblivious to, especially one so subtle, so ingrained, like describing green to someone who’s never seen it. There’s not a quick fix to this issue, short of some kind of ‘red pill’ that would wake up the men of the world to the reality of their own cluelessness (sidenote: I am not sure I’m making this allusion accurately - I have never seen The Matrix and am certainly not going to seek out some dude savior sci-fi fairy tale at this point in my life). We can certainly try to explain to our partners and friends. We can teach our sons. We can ask for help when we need it.

But honestly, I’m tired. I’m tired of teaching and I’m tired of asking. I’m tired of fitting in my ambition where it’s convenient and tying myself in knots over male feelings. I believe our message to men who are reachable, who purport to care is this: you fix this shit. You teach your sons, you teach your friends, you figure out what the eff is going on with male fragility and you fix it. You do it. I’m going to the bar and then I’m taking a goddamn nap.