I understand. I do.
Hugo doesn’t. Other male feminists, in their scramble for self-aggrandizement among the fairer sex, certainly don’t. They haven’t been through it. And they can’t empathize, because their biology and the culture of traditionalism and feminism both have taught them that no matter what, their greater empathy belongs with women.
This bone of contention you have with feminists…you know you’re right in this. You know it. And though you never assumed they would blindly have your back, you DID believe they’d listen to you and try to understand your perspective.
Hugo’s response to your article…that was your divorce papers being served. Never mind that it was couched in terms of “it’s not you, it’s me, I wish you the best but it would be unfair to YOU for me to continue as an editor on your site.” This was a unilateral declaration of rejection. You dared to question. You dared to stick up for men on your own terms, as a man. You followed your conscience rather than the crowd. And now, you’re an outsider, no longer trusted. You are the enforcer who dared to ask the boss that intolerable question: Why?
Now you know the answer. You might not think you do, because you’re still spinning in shock from their betrayal, the betrayal a morally defunct skirt-chaser like Hugo sees as nothing a man should fear. In his state of delusion, a woman’s anger holds no power over a man, and can do no harm to him. You know differently now. You feel as if a rug has been pulled out from under you, and all they want to do is batter you with explanations of why it’s wrong for you to feel that way, and that THEY are the ones who’ve been transgressed.
You used to be a good man, Tom. And now? Now you’re beginning to realize what a “good man” is. A “good man” tells women what they want to hear, and he leaves uncomfortable truths unspoken. A “good man” sets aside his honor and integrity so he can continue to be useful to women. A “good man” kicks the shit out of other men, if they offend a woman’s sensibilities. A “good man” has as much freedom to define his own masculinity as his women will allow him, and not one inch more.
You were the man in civilian clothes in WWI England, handed a white feather by a woman, who took the challenge and enlisted. And now? You’ve returned home, having sacrificed a limb for the cause, and not one of those women wants to look you in the eye. All they want to do is tell you how you’ve failed them. They told you to come back a hero or come back dead, and guess what? You tarnished your glory by daring to question, and now you’re dead to them. They can’t get away from your soon-to-be stinking corpse fast enough.
You’re not useful to feminism anymore. And since that usefulness was the defining characteristic of your existence to them, well… welcome to male disposability, Tom.
I’ve come to discover over my years of reading about gender issues that there really is no fury like a feminist scorned. I’ve learned a lot about human instinct in my 41 years on this planet, enough to know that the women and men who are most ruled by their instincts find a comforting ideology in feminism. The male feminist is chivalry incarnate, and the female feminist is a woman’s instinctive self-interest rendered down to its purest elixir. This marriage of male self-sacrifice and female self-interest in an age of total female liberation is social nihilism. It is a critical mass of troglodytic instinct sufficient to deny objective reality and steer humanity down a very dark path.
When you started the Good Men Project, you believed you were demonstrating your devotion to a set of ideals and the group that represents them. Now you’ve learned what your devotion was worth to them. Like a homeless man, you put your foot wrong and were cut loose, you’ve become a lifeboat rower with no arms, a broken cog in their machine, and it’s time to throw you away.
I remember once, in my identity as a writer of erotica, commenting on a blog that I was not a feminist. That I believed in gender equality, but I felt that humanism or secular egalitarianism was the answer. 173 scathing, enraged and abusive comments later, I regretted ever outing myself as a non-feminist among the very women who’d praised my fiction and lauded my writing on female sexuality and sexual agency.
Hell hath no fury, Tom. You were a part of the “Male Auxiliary” of the Society for Cutting Up Men, and the moment you stood up for yourself and other men, you were shown the door. At the very moment in history when the revelation that prominent feminist scholars, activists, and educators exposed as genocidal maniacs has evoked a unanimous chorus of crickets and tumbleweeds in the mainstream of feminism, you’ve been vilified for daring to ask why it’s so bad for a dude to be a dude.
I’m sorry, Tom. But the moment you decided your integrity was not disposable, you rendered yourself useless to them, and you’re discovering the fair-weather friendship feminism offers men.
You have a choice now, Tom. Because your reputation among feminists is absolutely salvageable. You can fall back into line, apologize for “forcing” them to attack you, and subject yourself to their re-education, and if you’re a good enough boy, they’ll suspend your excommunication and put you on indefinite probation. You can supplicate like mad and try to make amends to people who see you as nothing but a useful cog in their machine, to be banged with a wrench the moment you slip off their track.
Or you can stand on your own, and decide what your integrity is worth to you. Only you can make that calculation, and decide what the relative outcomes are worth. I wish you luck with that. Merry Christmas, for what it’s worth.