Katie Rophie has
an important piece on the current moment of (especially liberal) feminine rage, which I am not going to comment on in the detail it deserves. What I am going to wonder about is how much the rage is driven by the kind of men who occupy the circles in which these women travel.
For example, Rophie cites one of the women who invited friends to an Election Night party in 2016:
While I was writing this essay, one of the anonymous emailed me a piece Donegan wrote in The New Inquiry about the devastating night of Trump’s victory. She had hosted an election gathering, and as the results came in, the men were drinking tequila out of a penis-shaped shot glass, and laughing and making jokes as the women cried and clutched one another. Instead of thinking about choosing new friends, she ends with a blanket indictment of men and a blow for the cause:
Here is what the last few days have reminded me: white men, even those on the left, are so safe, so insulated from the policies of a reactionary presidency, that many of them view politics as entertainment, a distraction without consequences, in which they get to indulge their vanity by fantasizing that they are on the side of good. . . . The morning after the election, I found the penis-shaped shot glass in my kitchen and threw it against the wall. I am not proud of this, but it felt good to destroy something a white man loved.
My first reaction to this was incredulity that any men, unless out-and-proud gay men, were drinking anything "out of a penis-shaped shot glass."
No way, I thought. But I have no reason to doubt the author, who almost certainly invited people of her own political leanings. These men, 'even those on the left,' must be the sort of people who do things like that.
I assume they aren't in fact gay, since she would then think of them as threatened by Trump rather than 'safe.' But they aren't the sort of people who actually voted for Trump: they almost certainly were 'on the left' and voted for Clinton, or she wouldn't have invited them to her party. The point is that they're so far outside of my own culture that I find their behavior unrecognizable.
Another writer produces a piece about an unexpected and unwanted encounter with an actual Trump supporter, a self-described "redneck," for which
she is deeply grateful.
"Just ask any redneck like me what you can do with zip ties — well, zip ties and duct tape. You can solve almost any car problem. You’ll get home safe," he said, turning to his teenage son standing nearby. "You can say that again," his son agreed.
The whole interaction lasted 10 minutes, tops. Katherine and I made it home safely.
Our encounter changed the day for me. While I tried to dive back into my liberal podcast, my mind kept being pulled back to the gas station. I couldn’t stop thinking about the man who called himself a "redneck" who came to our rescue. I sized him up as a Trump voter, just as he likely drew inferences from my Prius and RESIST sticker. But for a moment, we were just two people and the exchange was kindness (his) and gratitude (mine).
As I drove home, I felt the full extent to which Trump has actually diminished my own desire to be kind. He is keeping me so outraged that I hold ill will toward others on a daily basis. Trump is not just ruining our nation, he is ruining me....
[M]aybe if we treat one another with the kindness and gratitude that is so absent from our president and his policies, putting our most loving selves forward, this moment can transform into something more bearable? I want to come away from the march with that simple lesson, but it begs this question: How do we hold onto the fire fueling our resistance to the cruelty Trump unleashes, but also embrace the world with love? I wish I knew.
The second encounter turns out better for everyone. The difference is not in the women, but in the kind of men. That's an important point for those of us who, though we are on the other side of this culturally and in terms of sex, want to ensure better relations between the sexes.