Why do men feel singled out?
Is feminism wrong in its strategy? Are all male machistas? Some ideas on what we could do better. We’re missing opportunities that others have been shown to seize quite well.
A reader once told me he’s fed up with men being blamed for everything: “We do a lot of things wrong, we need to improve. But it’s unbearable to be singled out for everything and beaten down just for being men. It seems there’s no escape.”
This perception is a reality for many men who feel attacked and, more or less consciously, guilty. What do we do about it? Can we address the situation to achieve a positive reaction? Feeling cornered isn’t the best if we expect reflection and change, nor does it encourage active participation.
Something significant and very symbolic: there isn’t a collective movement of men in the world that comes close to the achievements of feminism in recent decades. This reflects a lack of initiative among men to seek changes collectively.
There are spaces with a collective spirit, like this newsletter and other projects that invite men to participate. But men have a hard time showing up, staying, and engaging actively. It’s no coincidence that in the survey I conducted about Recalculating and in the emails I receive from readers, a comment from women often appears: “I wish my partner would read the newsletter, but he doesn’t pay attention to my suggestions.”
Scary strategies
Let’s go back to the beginning, to the men who feel pointed out. I experience this with friends, and it’s common to hear it in conversations among men: complaints about expressions from women, especially those who are feminists or sympathizers.
The scene plays out over and over: when faced with a critical message targeting men as a group (“men kill women”), individual men feel personally attacked. There are plenty of reasons for feminisms to raise their voices, point fingers, vent their frustrations, and liberate themselves. There’s no debate about this. I’m not minimizing women’s experiences or struggles. Not at all am I victimizing men. Rather, I’m referring to the effectiveness of certain discourses and tactics.
Beyond the theoretical or academic explanations for certain slogans or statements, I believe it’s necessary to review these strategies that aim for a positive reaction from men but ultimately push them toward a firing squad they only want to escape from (and they do so easily!).
In seeking to make men proactive about gender equality, sometimes we reproduce what we criticize about patriarchy and machismo.
The challenge of perception
My theory: this happens partly due to the relentless and vehement — sometimes aggressive — construction of certain discourses that sound like an unappealable sentence.
Saying “men never do anything at home” or “they are rapists” can provoke — intentionally or not — but the undesirable reaction is rejection from men and even from other women who feel uncomfortable when they look at the men in their lives (fathers, sons, brothers, friends, partners).
This lays the groundwork for the unfortunate #NotAllMen narrative, which is a form of victimization through reductionist and individualistic differentiation that diverts conversation, invalidates experiences, and questions the universality of harassment and violence faced by many women.
The individual defense is obvious: “But I’m not a rapist.” The disavowal in specific instances seems like it liberates us from collective responsibility (which we must assume!) and from having at least some behaviors tainted by machismo. Suddenly, it’s as if we’re not actors in a broader and more complex social construction.
Missed opportunities
Among the men I discuss this topic with, feminisms have varying degrees and forms of acceptance — even sympathy and admiration. But there’s always a comment about feeling a sort of rejection.
I want to talk about this rejection, especially among well-intentioned men who feel attacked when they raise various concerns (“What’s wrong with wanting a relationship with an employee/student?”). We’re missing opportunities that others with worse intentions (Donald Trump, Jair Bolsonaro, Nayib Bukele, Javier Milei) have been shown to seize quite well.
Clarification: I’m not writing this to explain anything to feminists. Essentially, I’m doing it so we can discuss it more among men — and those who want to join in (generally speaking, women tend to participate more in conversations in this newsletter; although several men have been writing to me more often lately, which I find super positive).
Some basic questions
Why do we men feel cornered by certain expressions of feminism? Are we really guilty? What is it so hard for us to recognize? Having been educated in a patriarchal system, could we be radically different?
I know that rejecting feminism implies a denial. But for conscious, sensitized men, there’s something deeper at play. Many want to change and support initiatives that feminism has put on the agenda. They do so because they believe in greater equity as just or for ethical or personal reasons (the suffering of female friends, daughters, partners or family members).
The issue is that there comes a moment when these sensitized men express a common rejection towards what they perceive as feminist aggression. Citing social media or conversations, they mention phrases like “if you’re male, you’re on the team of rapists” or “all men are alike,” etc. These expressions — some marginal or ill-timed while others are strategic — tend to be counterproductive: they scare away rather than attract those interested in changing for the better.
It’s like turning off the restaurant lights just when the customer sits down at the table. Or arriving at a meeting unsure if you were invited only to find yourself spat on or yelled at right away. How likely would you be to stay there? What exactly would motivate you to expose yourself and go against the current? And what’s gained by losing a potential collaborator in this cause?
Focusing solely on criticism and generalized blame towards men creates defensive reactions and rejection — even among those willing to change — and creates a barrier for active participation and positive change.
Judgment vs possibility
Sociologist Luciano Fabbri — one of my favorite experts on masculinities and gender issues — talks about this phenomenon very clearly. In an interview (in Spanish), addressing skepticism surrounding masculinity work within parts of feminism, Fabbri mentions that feminist suspicion serves as a tool for critical engagement.
But he questions when this becomes an a priori judgment that fixes men into certain places within social structures, robbing them of the possibility of seeing themselves as part of change because this can inhibit transformation processes.
“There, suspicion loses its more dynamic character — its destabilizing nature — to become something fixed. If you’re male, you can’t change. If we’re male, we can’t undergo these transformation processes. And if we do so, it must surely be with some sinister intention. I am especially concerned about the effects this might have on some young men,” says Fabbri.
Fabbri points out that the idea of being an "ally" is often caricatured. So much so that during a workshop with high school students, one young man mentioned pressures associated with being seen as an ally — from both his male friends (you become a traitor) and his female friends (it can be perceived as a seduction strategy). Since it’s often easier not to say anything and remain unnoticed, this stigma can discourage men from breaking away from machista complicity.
“Being seen as an ally is far more detrimental than staying within the mold,” says Fabbri.
Recognizing machismo
I’m convinced that we all have internalized machismo — even when appearances might play in our favor if, for example, we men become more involved in household tasks or become sensitive to feminist struggles.
Why is there such resistance to recognizing our machista practices? Fabbri explains that this stems from constructing an idea of machismo as identity rather than practice.
When a man identifies as machista, he feels attacked in his entirety which generates rejection. This rejection can lead men to locate machismo outside themselves — in its cruelest and most explicit expressions (the femicide perpetrator, rapist, sexual abuser) — instead of recognizing their own machista practices.
“I quickly position myself on the side of good people while machismo belongs to others.” This is one reaction from men towards contemporary feminist engagement — the defensive-elusive stance — that accepts abstractly the existence of patriarchy's machismo but evades recognizing oneself as part of the problem. And this elusive maneuver generally consists of acknowledging machismo along with its cruelest expressions without seeing oneself reflected in that machismo,” he explains.
Finding our way forward
How do we escape this crossroads? Something likely is not working in how feminism is being taught or communicated. But we men shouldn’t focus on what might seem like an attack nor take offense; rather we should exercise patience and above all understand feminist critiques and struggles so we can actively engage with demands we see as just.
A criticism — even if unjust or incorrect — shouldn’t drive us away from causes we consider valid. We need to foster dialogue instead of confrontations. Proposing safe spaces for conversation where men can express doubts, be vulnerable, and reflect without fear of being judged — with the goal of working towards equality — is essential.
Feminism isn’t an enemy; it seeks gender equity and liberation for all genders from oppressive roles — not domination over one gender by another. We should encourage men — our friends and those around us — to participate more actively in fighting for gender equity.
The goal is profound long-term transformation benefiting society as a whole. Perhaps one of the most important steps we can take as men is recognizing our collective responsibility when it comes to machismo.
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This is us for now.
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With love,
Nacho
🙏 Many thanks to Worldcrunch for translating and editing this newsletter.
