We Must Do Better As Men
Content warning: mention of sexual assault, murder, stalking, groping.
When I was in University in Hong Kong, the place I was born and raised, my friend at the time called me while she was on the MTR (our version of the Tube). She was sobbing. She was wearing a skirt at the time and on that train, in one of the safest cities on this earth, a man had very deliberately brushed his hand against her inner thigh. I remember her deep sobs on the other end of that line, her ragged and wretched breaths, and I had absolutely no idea what to do. I tried to comfort her as best I could but I was so shaken, I had no idea how to make her feel better in the moment, no idea what to say, no idea how to make this right. Because I knew deep down that no matter what I did say, I could not truly help her.
I will never forget that experience. I will never forget how she cried, I will never forget how helpless I felt, I will never forget the powerlessness I could feel emanate from the other side of that phone. The experience took only a few seconds of her life, but it cost her so much more. Panic, fear, hopelessness, a loss of security, thinking about it for weeks on end, a small jolt of terror whenever she took the MTR, and more.
And for the man?
The experience took only a few seconds of his life, from his decision to brush up against her thigh to taking that action, but ultimately, it cost him absolutely nothing.
As a writer, I spend a lot of my time thinking about the state of the world. I think about the human condition, the bubbles that we confine ourselves to, the universal experiences that we face as humans. I also think about the more specific experiences unique to every person that ultimately shape our political views, our view on life, the way we look at the world, and, one of the most important things that we must acknowledge — our privilege.
I have come to think of experiences, and bubbles, and privilege, as a matter of vocabulary. We each have our own vocabulary that pertains to us that we use in our daily lives. For example, as a man, something in my vocabulary is the fact that if I like a woman and would like to go on a date with her, I will probably need to make the first move and ask her out. If I want to marry a woman, I will probably need to be the one to propose. This is a generalisation to a certain extent, and times are changing, but this vocabulary is familiar to all men and is one they use in their daily lives. This vocabulary may not be as familiar to women or apply to them, as, typically, they will not feel the expectation or pressure to be the first one to ask a man out or propose to him.
Women and men use different vocabulary in their lives. Sometimes this vocabulary intersects as we come up against the same experiences that are universal and not dependent on sex or gender. But there is a lot of vocabulary specific to men that women do not use, and a lot of vocabulary specific to women that men do not use.
Last year, I was sitting in a park on a sunny day with my girlfriend at the time, watching the pigeons scamper about, when there was a commotion near us. A man was shouting at a homeless man, who had come up to ask him something, and it had turned into a full-blown argument. The scene happened right in front of us, and I looked directly at the two men arguing until it died down, but noticed that during the argument my girlfriend was looking away and pretending the scene wasn’t happening at all. Afterwards, I asked her why she did that.
She said to me, “It’s because, when a woman makes eye contact with a man, he can take it as an invitation.”
I was floored. I never considered it. This experience was not in my vocabulary, something that I did not have to worry about in my life at all. In the very worst case scenario, a man making eye contact with another man can be taken as intimidation or a threat, so a fight may break out. But my girlfriend explained to me that if a woman makes eye contact with a man, for example in a club or even on the street, he can take that as an invitation that she likes him, that she wants ‘more’, and as a result come over to her.
The simple act of eye contact. Accidental or not. Eye contact.
This was in her vocabulary, but it was not in mine. Ever since she was a teen, learning the rules of society, what to do and what not to do as a woman, she had learned this vocabulary. Now, as a young woman, this was still a part of her vocabulary, and unfortunately, it will continue to be a part of her vocabulary until the day she dies.
Eye contact.
Privilege is a funny thing. For starters, we only really understand what privilege is when it is taken away from us, or when we know people who have had privilege taken away from them. My brother, for example, is disabled. I know now how privileged I am to be in an able body because he has educated me on Spoon Theory and I have seen first hand how his disability has affected his life. (He also created a free-to-download and very cool Spoon Theory Game so go check that out). Thus his vocabulary, as a disabled man and a wheelchair user, is different to my vocabulary. When he is using his wheelchair, he is always conscious of the pavement and whether it is uneven and if it has a dropped kerb because this determines how well he can navigate which affects his energy levels. This, although not a part of my personal vocabulary, is a vocabulary I am now aware of, and I understand just how important it is.
We must each strive to understand our own vocabulary, our own privilege, and the vocabulary that applies to others. Just because someone uses a different vocabulary to you, a vocabulary that you have never used or even considered using in your life, does not mean that this vocabulary is ‘fake’ or ‘unreal’. It simply means that they have been subject to very different experiences that has shaped a very different vocabulary for them. And for us to create a better society, a fairer society, an equal society, we must actively push ourselves out of our bubbles and learn the vocabulary that applies to those around us to truly understand the way of things, and to change it for the better.
I benefit from privilege as a man, especially as a man who is read as heterosexual and cisgender. When I make eye contact with another man, I never have to fear that he will take that as ‘invitation’ and come over to sexually harass me. When I am on public transport, I never have to worry about being groped by other men. When a group of men drive by me, I never have to worry about being catcalled. I understand that a lot of men who are queer-coded and appear as effeminate, such as men who wear makeup, may not benefit from the same privilege as me, and are also privy to the same harassment that women endure. I think this only goes to show how femininity is actively punished and harassed in our society, regardless of which sex or gender it applies to.
I am proud to say that I have never nor will I ever participate in this disgusting behaviour. I was not raised to treat women like this, so I have never groped, I have never catcalled, I have never sexually harassed. If I ever have a son, I will raise him to treat women with the dignity and respect that every human being deserves, regardless of their label or their position in life.
But I have been in situations with other men where they have elicited toxic behaviour towards women. I have seen how other men can talk about women, I have seen the jeers and the laughs and the sly smiles, and I am ashamed to say that most of the time, I have done nothing. As humans we are very social creatures, we like norm, we like fitting in, and to speak out and call someone out is a political act which a lot of us opt not to do. And I’m saying that’s bull. I’m saying we can’t just stand back when this happens.
I’m saying we must do better as men.
We live in a patriarchy. Our world is a patriarchy. I’m fortunate to have lived in both Hong Kong and England, an Asian and a Western society, and I’m telling you that both were patriarchies. That is the reason why men benefit from such privilege. But the patriarchy is toxic, it’s dangerous, and we must fight against it. There is a reason why there are such high rates of male suicide. There is a reason why men do not talk about their mental health as much as women. There is a reason why a man cannot say to another man “I love you” in the most platonic way without feeling some level of discomfort or wrongness. The patriarchy is toxic, it promotes toxic masculinity, rewards it, and we must fight against it. For the sake of everyone and for a truly equal society, we must understand it and all of its effects, and fight against it.
Sarah Everard was a young Marketing Executive, and part of the reason why her death has shaken me so much is because in my day job I am also a young Marketing Executive. I know what she was thinking about in her life — social copy, emails, satisfying clients, showing return on investment. I know what she did everyday, I know as she was walking back from her friend’s place she was looking forward to the weekend ahead and some rest from her busy agency life. I know that she probably had to work from home for the better part of a year, deal with all those teething problems, and think about when she would have to physically go back into the office.
And I know, that having survived a global pandemic, anxious with all the lockdowns we’ve experienced, worrying about marketing emails and blog content, walking home from a nice night at her friend’s, she was stalked and murdered by a fucking man.
From what has been said on the news by her family and friends, she seemed like a very bright and kind woman. Out of morbid curiosity I looked to see if she was still on LinkedIn, and she was — with many testimonials from the people she’s worked with, a lot of marketing experience under her belt, and a very promising career ahead of her. I keep thinking that in another life, we could have worked together. I keep thinking about the bright clothes she wore as she walked home. I am horrified every time I see her face on the news, I keep thinking about what that walk home would have been like for her — clocking a figure walking behind her, picking up her pace, pretending to call her friend. All the right steps, everything she could’ve done to protect herself in her situation she did, and it didn’t matter.
Body in the woods. A man arrested. We don’t know the specific circumstances of her death as I write this, but you can put together the pieces. Why does a man ever kill a woman and stuff her body into the woods? Because she fights back, because it doesn’t go according to plan, because she doesn’t just lie down and take it.
It is a disgusting, terrifying reality women face every day. Every catcall, every lingering stare, every moment of accidental eye contact, Every. Fucking. Day.
And I am saying to you, as men, we must do better. It is not enough that our own behaviour does not contribute to this atmosphere — we must call behaviour out. Every time we see it, when hear our friends talk about women in a certain way, when we hear loud catcalls on a night out, when we notice a man approaching a woman who is clearly uncomfortable — call it out. Step out of your comfort zone, away from that voice that tells you to be quiet and shut up and that it’s nothing to do with you, and do something about it.
If it’s your friends, then ask “Why?” “Why did you say that” “Why?” “Why?” “Why?” Because when you dig deep enough, they cannot deny that what they said came from a place of toxic masculinity and you must call them out for it and make them aware of it. Change, change change change the world, and you do that by changing one person at a time.
Because you did not kill Sarah Everard. I did not kill Sarah Everard. But standing by, allowing men to catcall women, to talk about them like pieces of meat, grope them with no consequence — you say “This is fine, to treat women like this is fine. They are not equal to us, so you can treat them however you want to. So, follow her, into the woods, and treat her however you want to.” Because that, that is what killed Sarah Everard.
So let’s do fucking better.