I’m not being petulant! screamed Rachel silently, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her shaking hands.
She had created a special folder in her inbox for responses from editors, and it had filled up with horizontal dark text, because based on the heading, she knew that none of the replies were worth reading.
“Thank you for your enquiry, but…”
“I really cannot believe that you proposed…”
“In future, only contact me through a reputable agent…”
“Please remove me from this mailing list…”
“I have no intention of giving oxygen to these…”
It just went on and on – relentlessly harsh, brutally cold.
Rachel had now spent a month researching the topic of men’s rights – wading through the vitriol – and occasional flashes of distant reason – on both sides.
Those opposing the men’s rights movement held little back:
“Men’s rights activists are raging entitled incels who believe that they have a right to a woman’s time, attention and body!”
“This is a male backlash against growing equality for women…”
“Men are losing it because their historical privileges are being threatened by women’s progress!”
“Men who want to subjugate women are outraged – and becoming violent – because women are finally speaking out!”
“Men are afraid of being humiliated – women are terrified of being killed!”
“Fragile men cannot handle a strong woman!”
The articles did contain shocking quotes from men, but Rachel knew exactly how the game was played -but was able to maintain a fever pitch of moral outrage nonetheless!
Men’s rights forums contained the following gems:
“Women have become tyrants – men are entitled to a revolution!”
“The new fascism is the combination of female sexual power and State coercive power!”
“Women flock to alpha men when they’re young – then use family courts to extract money from beta simps in middle age!”
“Women inevitably vote for socialism, which destroys male earning potential!”
“Women will always choose security over freedom.”
“Women only love us for our resources!”
“Women can be a human being; men have to be human doing.”
Buried in forums were some direct threats of violence against women, but those threads had endless replies underneath claiming that these were plants by a mainstream reporter, or some other generalised leftist agitator – or even: “FED, FED, FED!” They were quickly deleted by the admins.
Rachel had been around long enough to know that some reporters were perfectly comfortable with the idea that if you couldn’t get the quote that you wanted, it was fine to create an anonymous account, post the worst possible vitriol – then quote your own post to smear the community as a whole.
Ian had warned her about all of this – and extracted a promise that she would never do anything of the kind.
This was the query letter she had sent to editors and publishers:
Hello, my name is Rachel Hastings, and I am a freelance reporter. Please find attached a list of my published articles. I am interested in writing about the men’s rights movement, with a focus on the battle between a few genuinely wounded men versus the vast majority spewing rampant misogyny. I have been horrified by my research, and would like to propose an approach that could cool the escalating rhetoric.
I am certain that I could get the job done in 1,500 words – please let me know if you are interested in my topic and approach, and I would be happy to chat further!
Best wishes,
Rachel Hastings, B.J.
The feedback was swift and merciless. The typical response was some variation of:
“I find your email disturbing and offensive, please do not contact me again.”
From one editor she had worked with before:
“Rachel, I’m writing even though I’m sure this message will not reach you, because I’m absolutely certain that your email has been hacked – I can’t imagine any universe in which you would send me the above query, please secure your account!”
Rachel looked up from her screen. Arlo was looking over her shoulder as the responses poured in.
“Uh, babe, I think you better stop.”
Rachel’s skin was crawling under the whipping stings of rejection.
“I have no idea how to turn back now…”
He shrugged. “Just tell them you were hacked, and someone is trying to destroy your reputation – hell, you can tell them it was someone from the men’s rights community, that would be a perfect fit!” He gestured. “You know: they found out that you are writing an article, and decided to burn any bridges you might have… It’s what I would do.”
Rachel snorted, despite herself. “You? You’re about as confrontational as a koala bear on quaaludes.”
Arlo smiled. “I’m not a big fan of drama, this is known…”
Rachel’s long fingernails drummed the desk beside her keyboard. “I could say I was hacked… It’s worked for others. But what if – what if they want an article on how I was hacked, how I reported it, what the police did?”
Arlo shrugged. “What if an earthquake swallows us up tomorrow? What if my teeth fall out over lunch?”
Rachel scowled. “Come on, you’re not helping.”
Arlo sighed. “I hate to be that cliché, but I did tell you…”
Rachel whirled on him in her chair. “Yes, I know, you said it was a bad idea – you said so repeatedly, knowing all the while exactly how I respond to being told what not to do!”
Arlo stared at her for a moment. “I just – I really dislike these guys.”
“Yes, you have made that abundantly clear, I have no – uncertainty about your feelings.” Rachel’s face crumpled suddenly. “I’m going to be 28 in a month, Arlo – what have I got to show for more than half a decade? A slightly more comfortable chair, a couple of thousand dollars – and half a dozen bylines.” She bit at a cuticle. “It’s like – now or never!”
Arlo sat in the soft armchair next to her desk. He frowned slowly. “I don’t know if you want me to just listen or – give feedback…”
Her eyes flashed. “Stop asking me what I want! Just be a – partner!”
Arlo paused for a long moment. Rachel knew that the purpose of his silence was so that she could see some crazed reflection of her own actions in his perfect features, his blank lack of response.
“You know that blank stare just makes it worse!” she snapped.
He pursed his lips. “Makes what worse?”
“What are you, a goddamned therapist?”
He smiled maddeningly. “I’m just being a – good listener.”
Rachel was tempted to abandon her outrage. For once, she was good at resisting temptation. “I could have just torpedoed my entire career!”
Arlo’s lips made a tiny ‘o’ - and Rachel was shocked to see the beginning of his potential sentence: “What career?” His lips closed again.
“What were you about to say?” she demanded, her heart pounding.
He shrugged. “Just pursing my lips.”
She stood up suddenly. “All right, let’s talk about you.”
“O – kay…”
Don’t do that! Rachel wanted to scream – but again, surprisingly, resisted temptation. “I mean, you were gonna be some kind of big biologist or scientist.”
“That’s true,” said Arlo, without offense.
“And?”
He took a deep breath. “And – and it turns out I’m pretty happy without – that kind of ambition.” He shrugged “Maybe that’s why I am happy.”
“But – for what? In order to do – what?”
He stared at her, then shrugged again.
Rachel jumped up and started pacing back and forth. “Our life is supposed to have some kind of – shape, you know. My mom had two kids when she was my age! Okay, maybe we’ll have kids later, but… It just feels like we are living this – day-to-day – not ‘nothingness’ - but no progress in anything! We still rent, we have one beat-up car between us… My dad asked me yesterday if we have life insurance, and it hit me with a real – wallop, Arlo. How can we have life insurance? We don’t even have a life!”
“We don’t have a life?” echoed Arlo – again, without offense, in that neutral tone that she knew was designed to highlight her hysteria.
“Of course we’re alive!” she cried. “But what are our goals?”
Arlo smiled suddenly, radiantly. “Oh man, let’s get it on, let’s talk about that! I’ve got whole bookmark folder full of plans! I want to ski the Alps, I want to surf Cape Town, I’d love – us – to climb Grays Peak in Colorado. I want to…” He laughed giddily. “Wouldn’t it be fantastic to be a yoga instructor in Bali, even just for a couple months? We’ve never even been to Australia, babe! How can you sleep at night, knowing you’ve never been punched by a buff kangaroo?” He jumped up out of his easy chair. “I’ve never been arrested in Bavaria, I’ve never run out of air scuba diving – I’ve never crossed myself on a falling aeroplane… We could live ten lifetimes, Rach - and never even scratch the surface of all the things I want to do!”
Rachel exhaled rapidly and sagged into her work chair. Her cheeks prickled with stress. “It… All that’s just – gathering experience, like – Pacman chewing up dots!”
Arlo imitated the video game sound. “Waka-waka-waka… That’s what life is, Rach,” he said simply, sitting down again. “Your mom had the experience of – two kids…”
Rachel knew she was being frantic, but could not drop the topic. She leaned forward. “We haven’t talked about this in forever – but – Arlo – what do you want to be?”
He leaned back in his easy chair, laughing too loudly. “You mean – when I grow up?”
You play with monkeys for minimum wage! Rachel wanted to scream – and felt genuine shock at the strength and depth of her reaction.
“Hey, hey!” Arlo said tenderly. He jumped up – always seeming so weightless – and hugged Rachel’s rigid sitting form. “This is partly why I didn’t want you to go down this ‘men’s rights’ rabbit hole, babe – you’re so… You’re very sensitive, Rach – you get raw from whatever surrounds you. This is a messed up, toxic community. It’s getting in your head, rent free…”
A cursed tear escaped Rachel’s eye. Against her will, she leaned into his chest. Goddammit, he is so seductive!
Arlo let her go, stepped back and jumped up and down, letting his arms dangle loosely. “Come on, shake it out – shake it with me, baby!”
He half-squatted and shook his butt from side to side. “You’re all wound up, babe - time to flop! Wiggle, wiggle!”
Rachel laughed.
“Drop into the monkey brain – enough of this higher reason! Oooga ooga!”
Arlo made hooting ape noises. He danced over to the fruit bowl and grabbed a banana. Gripping it from the bottom, he chewed at the pasty goo that erupted from the top.
“Arlo, the carpet!” cried Rachel, jumping up.
“All I see is jungle floor!” he cried, banana phlegm flying from his red lips.
Although laughing on the outside, Rachel felt a sudden, wrenching burst of fury. With a titanic effort of will, she pushed down any surface signs of her murderousness.
Arlo, it seemed, caught a faint echo of her rage-quake. He stopped dancing immediately, lowering his forehead and looking at her with great seriousness.
“Are you thinking about – kids?”
“What?” cried Rachel, exasperated. “Why?”
Arlo shrugged, tapping his temple. “Well, you know my view… Nothing happens accidentally.” He gestured at her computer screen. “Maybe you did just – blow up your whole career. Maybe it’s because you want something else, but don’t want to admit it.”
Rachel raised a warning finger. “Don’t project on me, you himbo! Are you thinking about kids?”
He sank into the armchair again. “Haha, himbo,” he muttered. “Been awhile since I heard that one…” He slowly raised his blue eyes to Rachel. “I do think about kids, from time to time – you can’t escape it, they’re everywhere… But I always think of them – you’ll laugh, but I think of holding them up like Simba from the Lion King, yodeling about my lineage to all the beasts kneeling below. We’re always outside, high in the sky or deep in the water…”
“And then? But then?”
He looked at her curiously. “What you mean – but?”
“Well, clearly you want children, but there’s something about me that makes you – hesitate.”
Arlo’s lip curled in slight disgust. “Ha – now whose projecting?”
“You know a woman’s greatest fear: that we have children, and end up with a father who is just another kid!”
His eyes widened. “Gosh, I thought a woman’s greatest fear was losing her career!”
Rachel could see that he immediately regretted his statement. Normally she would push for an apology, lever her power over him for dominance, but she suddenly felt very weary.
“So – you don’t – want children?” she said, staring the gritty carpet.
Arlo smiled – a little sadly. “I do and I don’t. I think of them like snapshots, like cool selfies and Instagram posts. I think of the highlights. Like when you have a great climb, and you can see the mountain tops coming up through the clouds. I don’t – think of the everyday. I’m not sure I would be great at that…”
But you love your monkeys, thought Rachel, and again clamped her mouth shut.
She sat heavily in her desk chair and gestured at the black screen.
“There is no way for me to – stop now. Can’t be done…”
“Why not?” There was genuine curiosity in his voice.
Rachel raised her shoulders, then forced them back down again. “I have to – write a balanced piece. I owe it to Ian – and Cassie. And myself.”
Arlo laughed harshly, and Rachel was amazed to see a flash of bitterness cross his perfect face. “You see a lot of – balance in the world these days, babe?”
She said nothing.
“Rach – come on, you don’t have to be a meteorologist to know when it’s raining. Everyone in the middle gets torn apart.”
Rachel pursed her lips. “And – where are you?”
“I’m not even on the spectrum. I’m just – hiding out…”
His words were simple, sincere – and they broke her heart.
“Dinosaurs,” he murmured.
She waited.
Arlo raised his blue eyes to her. “Lot of big dinosaurs out there. Big teeth, man… We are just little mammals. Let them fight…”
Rachel sat, silent.
Arlo continued, looking past her. “A lot of forces forcing everyone apart – the only thing that unites the extremes are those in the middle. Pick a fight, or stay out of the way… Don’t try and – bridge any gaps. That’s just an endless canyon…”
It was like he was speaking in riddles – but riddles that connected to her very core.
“Where does it end?” whispered Rachel.
Arlo suddenly jumped up, laughing. He took her two hands and pressed them to his belly, his abs. He leaned down and kissed Rachel on the forehead. “It ends with us together, babe, having adventures - free..!”
So damn seductive! thought Rachel, turning her head and resting her cheek against his belly.
“Listen,” murmured Arlo. “I totally understand what you want to do, you are a wonderful woman, full of talents and insights and – brilliance. And a couple years ago even, this article might have been possible… But things are – nuts right now, I don’t have to tell you – look at these terrible replies from these idiot editors. I think – well…” He stroked her hair gently. “I think – things will – work out, we just need to lay low… You know, I love a challenge, but things have to be – possible. Who would come with you – on such a journey? Of course I would,” he added rapidly. “But – it was like what we saw with the vaccinated and the unvaccinated… Everyone is just, like – a hair-trigger away from burning everything to the ground. Us too… It’s not forever, babe – everything is a pendulum, it will come back, but now is not the time…”
Rachel’s eyes slowly closed, hung with the accumulated weights of his little words.
“Don’t you have any – fight in you?” she murmured.
His stroking hand paused on her hair. “I just – told you.”
She took a deep breath. “What am I supposed to say to Ian?”
She could feel Arlo shrug. “Just – that you couldn’t find a publisher…”
“I could just – publish it myself.”
Arlo took a step back from her. “Rachel…” His voice was lower now, slightly dangerous. “Seriously, don’t. You know how photogenic I am…”
“What?”
“People click on pictures of pretty people – we are those people… Throw beauty in with scandal, we’ll end up like – like that woman who got on the plane to South Africa, and stepped off with no life at all!”
“I didn’t know how – scared you are.”
Arlo spread his hands. “You’ve lived a – pretty protected life, Rach. I came up from – slightly rougher climes. I’m not gonna tell you what to do, of course…”
“And – what if I go ahead?”
“I’ll be with you,” he said simply. “But it won’t be the same. We won’t be the same…”
Rachel took a very deep breath and exhaled mightily.
Arlo said: “Look – Rach, if you want to change your life, don’t just - blow it up. There are better ways…”
“And you – you just want our life to – continue, as it is?”
“I am a man of the moment. I’ve never hidden that.”
“Our days are like a – string of beads, Arlo. They’re lashed together, but kind of – identical…”
He smiled. “See? It’s that kind of poetry that should totally get you published, babe! But there’s no need to decide everything right now. Let’s go for a workout, clear our heads.”
Rachel knew that this was going to be the end of the topic.
Arlo always promised to circle back, but forever fell in a straight line.
Later in her life, when everything had become clear – or, at least, as clear as things ever get in life – Rachel ascribed her response the next morning to being sleepy, or startled, or hungry, or being rudely awakened from a terrifyingly seductive blonde dream.
Whatever the cause, the effects became blindingly clear over time.
Her phone pinged with a text message in the ghostly predawn light.
Jumping awake, Rachel unlocked her phone, swiped down and turned off audio notifications – noticing that she had received two emails informing her that the products she had ordered were unavailable for the foreseeable future.
She tapped on the text from her brother-in-law Ian:
- Rach, I have the guy for you to talk to
- He’s just the best at explaining what’s going on
The texts were coming fast and furious; Rachel knew that Ian must be dictating by voice, and waited for the inevitable homonym confusions.
- His name is Oliver Christian, he’s been in the movement from really early on
- He doesn’t do interviews with mainstream reporters, but I’ve talked to him, and he’s agreed to make an exception for you, under certain conditions – nothing crazy I promise! :)
- Here’s a link, you’ve really got to see this guy in action
Underneath this message was a shortened URL.
Rachel sighed. Her finger hovered over the link, hesitating before the eternal online mantra: Is anyone tracking what I tap?
Everything is defensible, I haven’t done anything yet… she thought, pushing down decisively on the link.
A website opened up, with a picture of – oh my word, a strong jawed lean cheeked male face that seemed to be staring directly into her – soul, or whatever.
It looked like a face from another time – the 1950s perhaps, cracking jokes at a three-martini lunch, the secretaries fighting over who got to take his notes… A man never to be seen in an undershirt, who wore long striped pyjamas to bed and without a doubt had a smoking jacket hanging on a hook behind his door.
It was a black and white photo, of course, because he was an old style of masculinity that colour could never capture.
Rachel literally felt her uterus twitch, and reminded herself that her hormones pointed her at more masculine man when she was ovulating, which was right about now.
Almost hypnotised, she flicked down, and was just about to tap a video when she grabbed her headphones, leapt out of bed, and scurried to the bathroom. Sitting on the edge of the bathtub, she inserted her headphones and watched.
Oliver was standing behind a podium on a vast stage, blue lights shining up from behind him, illuminating thick velvet curtains. From various camera angles, occasional blinding white lights appeared over his shoulders as he talked, like distant electric suns.
Rachel could not hear him, so clicked on the crossed out audio icon. Oliver’s voice filled her ears – far too loud – and she immediately dialled down the audio – then had to dial it back up, because his voice had vanished completely.
“…and I appreciate the invitation. Most of us here in this room have a unique view of the global supply chain crisis – and I’m going to call it a crisis, I’m not gonna mince any words – but I’m sure we’ve all noticed how tough it is to get the word out there… The current administration has no interest in complex issues that don’t immediately affect their voting base – but we know all the challenges – disasters, some would say. Diesel shortages, increased regulation, the hostility of certain governments to the free movement of goods, endless union issues, labour shortages, port congestion, COVID lockdowns and – well, war of course, the ultimate strangler of supply chains. The scarcity of goods is not something to come, but something that is already happening, and is going to get much, much worse…”
Rachel paused the video. Supply chain issues? she thought in a daze.
She tapped a message to Ian:
- Did you send me the right link? This is about supply chains.”
- That’s his day job. Keep scrolling
Rachel scrolled down further, and saw another video - another speech, in a different venue, smaller, darker.
So… The men's rights movement - like a lot of movements dominated by men - is founded basically on skepticism - and in particular on moral skepticism. There is this moral argument that has been around, I mean, really, since the days of Cain and Abel - but it really crystallized in the mid-19th century – and the argument goes something like this: that anytime there are statistical differences in outcome between men and women, it can only be because men are oppressive - and of course we think about things like the wage gap and STEM enrolment and income - and yes, various things, life savings and so on… So we look at these things and we say, well wherever there is a difference between men and women, and the difference favours men - that is because men have used their power to rig the game in their own favor. I mean - when we look at a casino and we see that the casino makes money, then it's fairly safe to say that the casino has, to some degree, rigged the game in its own favor. Or, if you don't like that, and you say well, casino dealers just have more experience in the mathematical certainties of things like blackjack and poker, you can say: if you take your kids to an arcade and you get these points and you trade them in for toys – well, clearly the arcade is making more money off you buying access to their machines or games, then they’re losing in giving you toys, right? So whenever there is a difference in outcome, then the people who are making the money are profiting from the situation. Now this of course occurs in men's rights - between men and women - but it also occurs in a larger context, you know… I mean, I am a businessman, and have been for gosh, well over a decade as an entrepreneur by this point in my mid-thirties – so when you have an economic difference in outcome between the manager and the worker, then the argument from the Left is that the game, the system, the market is rigged in favour of the manager because the manager is making more money than the workers!
So: every difference in outcome, where one party benefits - is the result of exploitation, of rigging the game of basically a kind of theft based on power. So that is an argument that has been around for a very long time… It is the argument of envy, to some degree. It is one of the reasons why the Bible says: thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s wife, his house or even his donkey – because the world runs on envy, it doesn't run on greed. Or rather the world runs on greed and the subsection of greed called envy is when you're greedy to take things from other people rather than, say, greedy for experience, greedy for muscle - so you go to the gym or whatever - greedy for dates so you ask women out, but you are greedy for some things that other people possess, and that's called envy.
So that is the argument that is used to beat men over the head and frankly take our stuff, right? So they say: women earn - it depends where you look, depends on the math you use – 67 cents on the dollar, 70 cents, 75 - it rarely gets close to 80 - but women earn, give or take, between two thirds and four fifths what man make.
So that’s a difference in outcome - and I don't disagree, I’m sure that the math is fine regarding that difference in outcome. I'm not a mathematical genius, but you have to be pretty good at math, to work in my field, and I've looked at the math and it seems fairly solid. So yes, women make less than men.
So of course the argument goes: that women make less than men because men are using their power to exploit the system in order to improve and increase their own wages - just as the capitalist does and – and never seems to happen with politicians, but it, it happens with men and women. That's the general argument.
Okay, so if we accept that argument, then it has to be a universal argument, otherwise it’s not a moral argument at all - morals are not just something that one person gets, but the other person doesn't… Like if you said, well, tall people can steal, but short people can’t, that wouldn’t be morality, that would be just: well, tall people are more likely to get away with it because they’re bigger and can intimidate others or something like that.
So this principle that wherever there are disparities in outcomes between men and women that favour man it’s because men are using their power to exploit the system in order to gain resources unjustly from women who are underpaid, women who are undervalued - and of course you have you seen a million movies where the poor, sweet men, the poor, exploitive, confused and dazed men are always just kind of ridiculous and foolish - but boy those women, they really know how to run things and it's the women who really run the shop and run the ship and they just let the man do their thing. I mean “Working Girl,” “9-to-5” - I'm dating myself with these references, well actually I’m dating my dad with these references- but yeah, that's the general issue…
Okay, so we say this as a principle, right? What is the principle? Sorry to repeat myself – it’s important because that the Big Bang is coming in a sec. The big gotcha, the boom drops in a second, right? So, we say: So this principle where if there are disparities in outcomes between men and women that benefit men, it must be because men are using their power to exploit and take from women.
Okay - well, clearly this should work in reverse as well, if it's a moral principle - otherwise is just male bashing under the guise of morality, which, you know, we wouldn't have any respect for even if you're not - as I am - a staunch Christian… You wouldn't have any respect I think for exploitation in the guise of morality…
So, men got suspicious about this, right? They said: look, there are situations where men are more harmed or do worse than women - so if the principle is universal that any differences between the sexes that favour one sex over the other results from exploitation and theft - then clearly where women benefit disproportionately to men that must also be because of exportation and theft!
And so there is a skepticism - is this a general principle that is applied equally to the sexes, or is it actually a manifestation of exactly what criticizes?
So, if you say that all disparities in outcome that favour men are the result of exploitation, but any disparities which favour women are not the result of exploitation, then you have a sexist standard that is used to take resources from men - to take additional pay, to get jobs, to get particular political favours, to get redistribution of income… In other words, if they say: well, men do better because there are sexist principles that take resources from women - they use their power to do that - but then when you reverse it, that's not valid for some reason - like if it’s women exploiting and taking from men that’s not valid - then you have, in modern feminism, a manifestation of exactly what they are accusing men of - exactly down to the last comma and dot.
You have a direct manifestation of exactly what men are accused of - but it's being enacted by women!
Now I want to make this clear - and it is really clear – the use of power to take resources from the opposite sex is exploitation! But if it's only one way, then the sexism comes from the feminists and the exploitation is from the women to the men through the mechanism of cultural propaganda and political power.
So - if somebody lies to a court and says I owe him $1,000 when I don't in fact, owe him $1,000 - and uses the court’s power to take the $1,000 from me - then he is using the court to take resources from me unjustly and give them to him or her - I guess in this case her – that’s wrong. So if you say all differences in income are the result of theft - but there are situations where women make more than man, but that's not the result of theft, then you using a moral principle and a sexist ideology to steal resources which is exactly what you're complaining that men are doing – but you're actually doing it yourself… So some very serious stuff. Very serious stuff!
And of course whatever brings hostility and a lack of love or increased skepticism and anger between the sexes is in a way kind of civilizational ending vitamin… I mean, don't think it’s any accident that we notice that the birthrates have plummeted across the West – and there are many reasons that – but one the reasons is: if you constantly tell women that men are exploitive sexist jerks who just want to rob them blind, it's going to be pretty tough to pair bond and pretty tough to trust… If you can't trust a man with your income, your paycheck, your job security your, you know, whatever - then it's pretty tough to trust him with a baby, right?
So yeah, it’s very, very serious stuff that we are dealing with here…
So, the men's movement came out of a certain kind of innocence in many ways - I mean, some were skeptical and cynical and knew that the game was gonna play out this way, but some men were genuine – like ‘oh, we’re all using this principle, that disparities in outcomes are result of exploitation – great, okay, well, let's give women jobs, let’s give women raises, let's do whatever, right? Give women preferential treatment in university admissions and preferential treatment in hiring – because, you know, we’ve got to make up for all these terrible injustices, right! Okay…
So then in all naivety man strode forward with great confidence and moral resolution and said: okay, well listen – we’ve dealt with a lot of the stuff that women complained about – and good, good for you, ladies for complaining about that, for standing up for yourself, for getting what's yours, for getting what's due - we love strong women and good for you, right?
And then men said okay listen – a little asterisk here, a little addendum, little footnote here… There are a number of situations wherein boys and men are doing much, much worse than women, girls and women obviously… We all know them - since the girl power revolution in education, girls are doing much better and boys are doing much worse – I mean the amount of ADHD meds that are being inflicted on boys is four to five times higher than that which is inflicted upon girls - and so there are situations where there's kind of rampant sexism that is occurring right in schools… And of course we all know that if a gender-identifying name is taken off a test or a report or an essay or something, then what happens is the boys get marked up, right? The female teachers mark up the girls if they know they’re girls - if they don't, they they end up marking up the boys…
The boys are having a tough time in education – there are whole books about that, so - so that – that’s bad, right? So, boys are doing worse than girls in education, so we need to change the educational system – and they’re like: NO, THAT WE CANNOT DO! IF THE BOYS ARE DOING WORSE IS BECAUSE THEY'RE REFUSING TO CONCENTRATE, THEY’RE REFUSING TO FOCUS, THEY’RE REFUSING TO DO THE WORK - THEY’RE LAZY, THEY’RE UNMOTIVATED, THEY’RE DISTRACTED AND IT’S THEIR FAULT!
Oh! So - if women earn less than men, it's not their fault, it’s male exploitation. But if boys are doing worse than girls, even though they’re children - the boys are children - it's 100% the boy’s fault and nothing to do with any injustices within the system!
Wow…
So: boys are 100% responsible for doing worse than girls, but adult females are 0% responsible for earning less than men.
Wow, okay!
So people got a little goosed, and said: okay well I mean, you know, kids have historically not been treated too well in societies as a whole, so maybe that’s… Well, you know that 90+ percent of workplace deaths are men!
Now, I think it's fairly safe to say that most people would rather get paid less – you know, 20% less or 25% less in a job - than die on the job! Like - it's better to have slightly less pay than to get a steel beam through the head and die…
So, I think it would be fairly safe to say that death is worse than being underpaid, or having a comment about your appearance being made by some boorish fellow in a boardroom - or some guy asking you out that you don't want to have ask you out! That death is worse than a comment about how nice your dress looks or how nice your lipstick is, or what a lovely perfume you're wearing today… So death is worse than compliments you don't want to receive – I think it’s fairly safe to say, it's fairly clear…
All right - so man said, okay, maybe the boys things a bit - a bit hard to grasp and, you know, it's government schools, so they’re really tough to change - but let's at least talk about workplace deaths – you know, 90+ percent of workplace deaths are men…
Okay - so death being just about the worst thing that can happen to someone, surely we should talk about that and try and try and find out ways that this can be addressed…
Ah, no.
Now it's tough to say - and I’m some people did try and say – look, the problem with male deaths is that men are careless in the workplace, like you’ve seen these videos ‘here’s why women live longer than men,’ where a man is doing some goofy silly stuff and so on, right? But it's a little tough to say that man dying on the job is 100% men’s fault - but women getting paid less is also 100% men's fault…
Looking for these deviations, it starts to get pretty suspicious, I think.
So that didn't work either… So it was kind of tough to make the case that men were just killing themselves on the job because they’re killers - so then it was pointed out that, as far as dangerous jobs go, there are more man in dangerous jobs, right? There are more man in oil rigging, there are more men in gold panning and exploration, there are more men who are hunters, there are more men who are doing heavy machinery work, there are more men doing dangerous jobs. So there are more men doing dangerous jobs - and that's why there are more men dying!
Okay, so the question would then be: how is that right?
So - it's because men choose the dangerous jobs that men are responsible for being killed on the job…
Okay, but if women choose to accept less pay, they’re not responsible for the effects of that at all - but if men choose to work dangerous jobs, then they are 100% responsible for the resulting deaths? Again, it's a deviation from any rational or universal standard…
Rachel found that she was not breathing.
Her heart thudding painfully in her chest, she touched the email link and tapped out an impulsive message:
Dear Mr. Christian:
My name is Rachel Hastings, and I am an independent reporter interested in writing about the men’s rights movement. I got your information from my brother-in-law Ian Elam, and I would like to interview you, at a time and location of your convenience. He has informed me of the hostility of most reporters towards your movement, and I promise you that I will write a fair and balanced piece. Please call me at the number below so we can talk further.
After rereading it four times, Rachel hit ‘send,’ and everything began to change.
