I'm going to regret posting this in the morning, but I shall, I tell you, post nonetheless.
First, I think that some MRAs and some feminists are pretty much congruent in their goals: actual equality for all. When I listen to some things they say, if taken at face value, I could implement what they both advocate and make both sides happy.
But I'm not coming up with my objections to being called a feminist out of thin air. It isn't just radfems who argue that men can't be feminists - it seems that, for some feminists, men can support, but, as Churchill referenced regarding himself and the church, must buttress only from the exterior. If feminism was about strict equality in all areas, I could be convinced to call myself one, but as I argued before, feminism, as with MRAs and every other advocacy group, focuses on a particular section of the body politic.
Is this an unjust interpretation? Perhaps. But I think that the MRAs have points about male disposability. As I've said, I don't really harbor a lot of hang-ups about my mother abusing me. I can tend to fairly logical, even sociopathic levels of detachment, and viewing myself from the outside, I can understand that what happened (to my family) is merely the result of a mentally ill person (my mother) inflicting harm on another in search of validation. I get that. What I don't get is that apparently I deserve it until I tell someone that she also did it to my sisters, and then, suddenly, because my sisters are female, that makes such abuse indefensible. If it was me, well, toughen up and carry on, you privileged pig. But the instant my sisters are harmed, that's intolerable.
Again, all I have is my own experience. And, again, I don't care. From my perspective, all I care about is the fact that I "won". I got my sisters out, my dad out, I protected those who I felt possessive and caring for. My mom ended up alone, deprived of victims. Understand, then, that I need no sympathy.
What I find interesting, then, is that "feminists" seem interested in only implicating men as abusers. I use quotes because I've met some who don't. But, for the majority of people, if I wish to speak of personal abuse, I am best off by pointing out that my mother attacked my sisters physically. It doesn't matter that I was abused by more people than my mother, or that I was abused much more than my sisters, physically, with striking, with objects - only when violence was inflicted against a woman does it become real to the hearer.
Why is this, if society values men over women uniformly? I have always considered myself to be typical, non-special, ordinary. Usually a safe assumption. I have to ask myself: if men truly do have all the privilege, if men are really all that's wrong with the world, why is my experience so out-of-phase? Why are the experiences of others I know so different from the feminist narrative?
Who is a feminist, as at least one has claimed, to tell me that they will determine whether I was at fault or not?
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Allow me to approach my incredulity from another angle: I'll be blunt. My mother threw a pewter platter at my face - just to pick one of the heavier day-to-day objects. My parents hit me. Quite a lot, in the face. I was whipped with deer brush switches to raise welts because I was "talking back" - because the regular spankings with wood paddles weren't enough. My hands were paddled for less important infractions. I was punished for reading, I was grounded for trying to learn. I was told that they were going to send me to prison or military school for being "rebellious" and reading instead of doing chores. I was put to work for hours in the sun clearing land and doing roadwork as early as eight, and every bit of schooling above fourth grade I had to conduct myself. All of this was primarily, if not totally, at my mother's instigation.
Today, I make well over 50K, own my own business, and work like a demon to do this. I'm planning to buy a house, I have a circle of friends I have chosen, and enough money in the bank to pay cash for practically any item I might care to buy. Just tonight, before coming home, I was tasting scotch with a retired United Airlines mechanic executive who paid me five grand for restoring his maple kitchen to its original glory. Yes, I am fucking awesome, thank you very much. Also, turns out that I really like Mallacan 21-year-old.
I got here by an extraordinary amount of pain and will. I worked as much as 106 hours over eight days. I worked clearing land as an amateur lumberjack to keep my apartment when the 2008 recession hit. I've worked with a cold in 30 degree weather, I've scaled scaffolding while taking Vicodin/Norco to recover from a surgery I paid for without assistance. I've injured myself and worked for weeks while limping from spot to spot. I've come home and thrown up from toxic paints, I've sobbed chlorine tears after bleaching houses, had my skin bleached and burned by oxalic acid, and slept overnight for three or four hours on a few dropcloths in my shop to get a project done.
Then I read an article like that "debate about some statue" one. What do you think someone like me is going to feel, going to think, about something so pathetically superficial, so grandly unimportant as that? Well, I can tell you what I think. I think that some rather silly and self-involved people have way too much time on their hands.
And how do you suspect I will feel when one of these academic writers, blissfully untainted by actual time among the plebes, deigns to tell me that everything I am, everything I have, is only and undeservedly mine because I am a white male, that I belong to an oppressing class, that I have wittingly or unwittingly contributed to systems to keep minorities and women down? That I am the victimizer, that I am the destroyer, that I am the incarnation of macho pride? These are not merely emotional impressions derived from feminist works, they are often the works themselves in printed word.
Well, if you wish, believe that too.
When I was a child, even when I was a teen, I had a fantasy that there might be someone out there who would care about me, as me. Someone who I could be weak around, someone who would want to be around me just because they liked the person that I was. I hate that I ever had that idea, and I am ashamed of it. That's not why I try to help some people. I don't care if they're cute, I'm not looking for a date. If my motivation is male sexuality, it is remarkably well-hidden.
I care about oppressed women and I give to them on Kiva and other sites because I know what it is to have to struggle, to not have a net beneath you, to have no option but to work and to fight for survival. I don't give to women because I care about them as an oppressed minority without privilege, I give to them because I recognize a fellow struggler. I want them to beat the system, even just a little bit. I want my tribe to win, just a little. And my tribe, as I see it, is all those who just wanted to live a life without hunger, without persecution, without too much pain, and were willing to work as hard as they could if they could just have a taste of that. We of the dirty hands, and leathery faces, you might say.
I find much of the MRA movement to be without compassion or perspective. I get not caring. I don't care about anyone, even myself, all that much. But I don't get not wanting to help anyone of a gender. I don't understand making that mistake, from either the feminist or the manosphere side. What is it to me if a hardworking person has a penis or a vagina? It is their struggle, their will to survive, that I find worthy. I come first, in my mind. But why not others, if I can spare a hundred here and there?
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This response is mostly to the subject of feminism, because that is what was essentially responded to. Again, all I have is my own experience. But that experience doesn't seem to count. Look how, in this thread, however bad I've had it concerning marriage-shaming, well, that's not important compared to how bad women have it.
I've been told that I'm selfish, that I'm a sinner, for not finding a woman to support, for not being, essentially, a workhorse, a walking wallet. This, from a couple, when I was helping a couple move from one house to another. Does this experience count? How bad do I have to have it before it's worth considering? It's not that I think it needs to be considered - I consider it frivolous. Why is it, however, that it is automatically frivolous, while any encouragement to marry directed towards the generic woman is assumed important? Why is the experience a concrete male has to be compared to the generic marriage pressure directed towards "all women" and then discounted as not being serious enough, that no matter how bad it is, someone else has it worse elsewhere, rendering it moot?
I don't know. Admittedly, I don't know in an apathetic yet argumentative - heh :-P - sense. It seems to me that women should toughen up, even if I'm correct. I certainly don't intend to start caring about C's comments about my selfish single lifestyle. If people want to just see me as a tool for their needs, that's fine, so long as they pay me in cash for services rendered.
In conclusion, well, there is no conclusion. I can come up with as many reasons, if not more, to avoid being an MRA. I'd say that I wished to live a simple life and be left alone, but there are so many reasons that that doesn't even connect to my situation that I won't bother.
So let me put it this way: when I say I don't care about equality, I mean that I don't care about enforcing equality. I'd rather spend spare money on some produce grower in Ecuador, who I can lend to. It's simpler, for me. The world might be a better place if some rather entitled people whining about statues had the same idea.