One of the most shocking aspects of the Alito opinion reversing Roe v. Wade is the degree to which men on the far right are bushing off the question of rape induced pregnancies. The only way this is possible is if the larger population of men fail to see the degree to which sexual assault is widespread, affecting every women we know. How can we not know? Because we hide this fact from ourselves.
All men have to do to learn about sexual violence against women is ask. Our sisters. Our mothers. Our wives. Our friends. Our daughters. But we don’t ask. Because the answers are too hard on our egos, our beliefs about our fellow men, or our recollections of our own actions in the past.
And there are ways of asking that will only add to the harm. Asking with a skeptical tone or hearing a story and becoming enraged (making it about ourselves). If men do ask, we need to be ready to sit with the story, center the teller, and determine how a woman wants us to listen.
Many of us can not imagine how to even begin to do this kind of interpersonal work. But the good news is we don’t have to rely on women, expecting that they will “teach men.” Instead, we can learn how to hold space for women and non-binary people’s stories of trauma as part of men’s work. We can learn how in men’s work, because there are thousands of stories of being sexually assaulted in those circles as well.
It’s about decentering our reactivity, fears, anger, or defensiveness, and doing so enough times that others trust us with their stories. This earned trust changes us forever.
You want a definition for true strength? Holding stories for others is a powerful human capacity that men can learn. I did my learning at the Mankind Project, in my healthy masculinity community with Charles Matheus and Boysen Hodgson. I also learned from Saliha Bava, and many of the other women in my life. It’s not that women don’t have a lot to teach us, it’s that we need to do our own work, rely on our own willingness to lean into discomfort first.
Brothers, we have a lot of trauma to undo. Our own pain. The pain of all those whose lives we impact. It’s our responsibility to do this work. No one else can do it for us. But I promise you, a rich, connected life waits on the other side, if we only end our silence and begin.
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Previously Published on Medium
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