7. Homosociality by Hugo Schwyzer
I've been thinking about homosociality a bit these past few
days. Homosociality (as explained so well in Michael Kimmel's
Manhood in America) is the principle that all men, including
heterosexual ones, are raised in our culture to be more eager
to please other men than women. It doesn't take much in my
classes to get heads nodding as the subject comes up!
To use one cheap and easy example, homosociality explains
the function of catcalls and wolf whistles. I've often been
asked by female students why men whistle and hoot at them
from construction sites and passing cars. "Why do they
do it? Do they think this actually 'works' to pick up women?"
I usually inquire whether the whistling was done by a single
man or a group; the answer is almost invariably that it was
the latter. The answer, seen through the lens of homosociality,
is obvious -- men whistle and yell to connect with other men.
Women are devices for creating non-sexual, same-gender bonds.
This doesn't explain all catcalling behavior, but it goes
a hell of a long way towards doing so.
One of the most significant difficulties (and opportunities)
about pro-feminist men's work is that it challenges homosocial
norms. Pro-feminist men are often characterized as "wimps"
-- soft, gentle men with submissive natures. Actually, pro-feminist
men who work to match their language and their lives have
to be remarkably brave. Few things are more difficult than
speaking up against sexism in all-male environments! To do
so is to risk anger (and in a few areas, perhaps violence)
and ostracism. In most contemporary Western cultures, there
is a strong code that declares that men don't criticize their
fellows’ attitudes towards women and gender. Given the
intense desire for male approval that most young men have,
it scarcely seems likely that many will feel comfortable taking
feminist positions in all-male environments!
When I was an undergraduate, I quickly mastered the "talk"
of feminism. In my classes, and around female friends, I was,
if not a model of egalitarianism, a thoughtful, polite, and
intelligent critic of gender roles and the patriarchy. But
get me alone with my male friends (especially with a beer
or two in me) and I spewed the same objectifying garbage that
they did. There were many reasons for this. First off, I was
deeply ambivalent about feminism as a younger man. Being alone
with the guys gave me a chance to "blow off steam";
indeed, the more I tried to match my words, actions, and politics
in mixed groups, the more I felt the overwhelming need to
act boorishly around the guys when we were alone together.
Second of all, I was desperate for male approval. In college,
most of the guys I hung out with lived in my co-op; they were
all pre-law or engineering types. None were liberal arts majors,
much less interested in taking women's studies classes! I
knew that to criticize their words and actions would be to
lose their companionship -- and at that stage of my life,
the craving for companionship won out over my ethics, hands
down. Indeed, I often made fun of the very material I was
studying, as if to reassure my companions that I didn't take
it too seriously, and thus could be trusted to remain one
of the guys.
This kind of double life left me feeling ashamed and fraudulent.
It wasn't until my thirties that I grew comfortable challenging
men in single-sex environments. I'd like to think I do it
politely, but firmly. I certainly don't do it on every occasion
I hear sexist humor or beliefs expressed. Like most folks,
I've learned to pick my battles -- and frankly, sometimes,
I'm just too tired or busy to speak up. But what has given
me the courage to speak up those times that I do has been
the support of other men. It wasn't until I started to do
men's work with other pro-feminist men that I began to feel
sufficiently empowered to start calling guys on their (sometimes)
unintentional misogyny. Doing male retreats (through church,
and with groups like Men Can Stop Rape) put me into contact
with guys who didn't just share my politics, but had spent
far longer than I had living out pro-feminist beliefs as strong,
courageous men.
When I talk about these issues with younger men and boys,
they almost invariably acknowledge the tremendous power of
homosociality. Many of them are receptive to feminist ideas,
but cannot even imagine actually speaking up about them when
they are alone with other guys. I acknowledge how difficult
it is to match language and life in the face of homosocial
pressure to conform, and I am particularly careful to stress
that just because they aren't ready to speak up yet, it doesn't
mean that they are "frauds." The key thing, I tell
them, is finding male allies who will support them and share
with them a commitment to take small steps towards changing
their own lives and (perhaps in due course) asking other men
to do so as well.
Whether we like it or not, young and not-so-young men are
homosocial creatures. Though the influence of mothers and
wives, girlfriends and sisters can be tremendous, most will
have their worldviews heavily shaped by their fathers, brothers,
and male peers. I think pro-feminist men can see that as a
real opportunity. Our sex has given us an unearned credibility
with other men, a credibility that on many gender issues may
exceed that of women feminists. We need to respond by banding
together and reaching out to each other and to our brothers
who will, in many cases, be initially unreceptive to a pro-feminist
message. We'll have to battle our own insecurities and doubts,
and the periodic pressure to chuck our ethical commitments
and just "go along to get along." But I've seen
this done, and I've seen it work.
I'm so grateful for the women in my life who have shared
with me their stories, who have encouraged me to do pro-feminist
work. But I cannot do the work I need to do without a band
of brothers who share those same commitments. Male acceptance
and approval is a uniquely powerful elixir, and rather than
ignore or deny that reality, I have chosen to rely on it
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