Misandry: From the Dictionary of
Fools
By Richard Leader
Printable
Version 
Man Rule: When in doubt, remember the tall,
hard columns of Ancient Rome.
The story of history is a story of mirrors. It is not a tale scribed
by victors on bloody battlefields. Nor is it told by professors
or preachers. Instead, it is the story of white men seated on greasy
couches, watching late-night television with reddened eyes. Regardless
of their station, their individual qualities during the day, they
are all men who are given the sanction to imagine themselves as
victors, links in a long chain, merely by looking the part. They
see a reflection of their own personalities in the great generals
and emperors of the past. Others, in their eyes, exist outside of
such thrilling legacies. To them, the human record is filtered through
an ego-colored glass that first rendered God as a man and then his
Son as a white one. The history of dominance that they recall—some
of it real, much of it pure fantasy—translates into contemporary
power for those who are able to borrow authority from its hallowed
vaults. Belonging to a social class with not just historic power
but the power to control history can go a long way in making up
for personal shortcomings.
The backlash against feminism has always found solace in a mythological
past where men were men and gender lines were freely drawn in wide
swaths of blood. They smugly insist that cavewomen were burdens
to their brave hunters. They deny that there was ever any Great
Goddess or matriarchy, even though such theories were highly promoted
by male scholars before women themselves were admitted to the academy.
As females became their peers, or at least too close for comfort,
the idea of matriarchy was transformed from a libidinous hypothesis
to a threatening reminder of the precariousness of male dominance.
To this end, antifeminists also argue that sexism aimed against
men is the most pressing danger to our own civilization, a society
that just might tumble back to the Stone Age if the disparagement
of masculinity continues. Criticism from women is somehow more dangerous
than a male-created nuclear holocaust: evidently only men have the
right to drive us onward to our extinction.
While men have long enjoyed attacking ungrateful women as “man
haters,” the epithet seems more than a little bit silly when
transposed onto the printed page—something demanded by the
burgeoning market for so-called Men’s Studies materials. It
certainly lacks the gravitas required to reflect the widespread
injury and social disadvantages that many white males believe they
endure on a daily basis. Thus a more scientific-sounding term was
needed for “the hatred of men” and antifeminists crafted
one out of their own perverted imagination of antiquity: misandry.
Cobbled together from two generally recognizable Greek components,
“misandry” has the appearance of consequence and refinement.
Words with such roots are privileged in our society. They are used
by doctors and lawyers, not out of necessity, but as a matter of
status: they can view their own image in that mirror of history,
standing tall with the great men of the ages. The capital letters
we afford to Classical Civilization is an artifact of both racism
and sexism. That very same authority, unearned as it is, was harnessed
in order to fashion the word misandry. As it is an unfamiliar term
to most who encounter it, many automatically assume that it has
sound intellectual underpinnings given our society’s expectations
for such words and the biases that surround them. This is no accident.
Furthermore, the archaic roots misrepresent misandry’s status
as a new word, a neologism: antifeminists want nothing more than
to mislead the public into thinking the word has always existed.
With the seed of that deception planted, they can then blame its
esoteric status on a feminist conspiracy that quietly removed misandry
from our vernacular, just as reports of abusive women and battered
men are allegedly censored by the agents of Political Correctness.
This tactic has actually met with a good measure of success: many
who encounter “misandry” for the first time are given
cause to wonder why they have never before heard a word that is
made to seem “obvious” in nature by its proponents.
By adding a veneer of Pentelic marble to “man hater,”
these men are able to act as if “misandry” were an unearthed
treasure waiting to be found and not a newly minted piece of plastic.
The word and its variations (misandric, misandrist, et. al) were
first used only by the most militant of antifeminists, where even
the most published and professional remained outliers in male society.
One early adopter of “misandry” was Warren Farrell,
a man who once wrote on the benefits of incest for Penthouse
magazine. Yet its constant repetition over the past decade has turned
it from the battle-cry of the pathetic to a banal trivia question.
It serves as the answer to “what is the opposite of misogyny,”
a rhetorical question often posed to the editors of online-dictionaries
by readers, all seemingly possessed of unlimited quantities of mock-innocence.
Misandry’s less combustible presentation has allowed it to
surge ahead of competing antifeminist devices (“androphobia”)
that have since fallen by the wayside.
This transformation has framed the term in a “common sense”
approach that many feminists, especially young ones, have difficulty
discounting: if the word misogyny exists, logically and mathematically,
there must be another side of that coin to restore balance. This
tact has the advantage of highlighting “rationality”
as a masculine attribute. Those who refuse to acknowledge the legitimacy
of misandry, both as a word and as a sociological fact, are portrayed
as effeminate and thus bereft of logic, no matter how detailed and
thought-out their arguments might be. Feminists who employ the so-called
“soft sciences” of history and sociology in their rebuttals
are easily disregarded by men who invoke “hard science”
on their own behalf: the Coin Defense involves mathematics, of a
perverse kind, and is thus deemed “objective” even though
it is nothing of the sort.
As the Coin Defense is misandry’s best chance at achieving
some measure of linguistic legitimacy, at least in the popular imagination,
it has been necessary for men to pave over a number of inconsistencies.
The word “misanthropy” proved to be the largest stumbling
block. As it was also a likely candidate for the “opposite
of misogyny,” men eagerly rewrote its definition, not just
in our own language but in Ancient Greek as well. If misanthropy
now means the “hatred of people or humanity” and is
unequivocally gender-neutral, it is a very recent innovation.
While the definition of misanthropy in dictionaries might have
been changed from the hatred of “mankind,” which has
fallen out of favor due to the efforts of feminists, the general
and historic sense of exactly who a misanthrope is
has not changed one iota. From the dawn of time, nearly every person
accused of being a misanthrope, or honored for it as an antihero,
has been a male; as were those doing the accusing and honoring for
that matter. It takes resources and power to publish nihilistic
poetry or philosophy, to act in socially unacceptable ways without
dire consequences, or to even own the property needed to play the
part of the angry man on the hill. White women and people of color
were historically excluded from the very possibility of being misanthropists
in English speaking societies, whether by convention or by force
of law.
Even after such strictures had begun to weaken, the label misanthropist
still remained unattainable by white women and people of color as
those in power naturally assumed that their dissatisfaction was
aimed at them, rather than at humanity in general. It takes a fair
amount of privilege to make the outlandish claim that one “hates
everyone equally,” a common defense made on behalf of both
racists and sexists. It takes even more privilege to have others
accept that claim at face value. Similarly, notable misanthropists
throughout the ages had no shortages of wives, mistresses, servants,
and slaves at their disposal: they achieved their notorious reputations
not by their behavior towards their inferiors but towards those
who mattered, affluent male society and the values it holds in esteem.
It is apparent that misanthropy still means the hatred of mankind
and not of humanity.
Even as antifeminists complain about the fascism of Political Correctness,
in this case, they have been more than willing to facilitate the
change in the definition of misanthropy (dropping “mankind”
for the more neutral “humanity”) in order to satisfy
their goal of establishing misandry as an authentic word. To conceal
this irony, they have also attempted to retrofit the meanings of
the Greek roots that our English borrows from, hoping to make them
consonant with a new, gender-neutral, interpretation. Antifeminists—usually
with no qualifications in linguistics save for their penis—regularly
make confident assertions about the historic meaning of words. Here,
they set up a false dichotomy between aner or andros
(both forms mean adult man and husband) and anthropos,
claiming that if an ancient writer specifically meant “actual
men,” only the former would invariably be used. According
to them, any other case involving anthropos should be interpreted
with extreme latitude for that reason alone.
Although andros and anthropos have been set up
as oppositional terms, historically, males have not required the
presence of either word to translate “men”
into English from Ancient Greek. This is perhaps best seen in their
treatment of Sappho and her poem now known as Fragment 147, a verse
popular for its ability to connect to modern readers. Anne Carson
translates it as “someone will remember us / I say / even
in another time” (2003). She is both accurate to the original
Greek that rendered “someone” as “someone,”
while appreciating the success of Sappho and her bridge across time:
as the first female poet, the “I say” becomes a pivotal
expression. Carson sets up the space for it to stand alone and triumphant.
Yet men have always had cause to impose their own image in the voice
of Sappho: H. T. Wharton (1895) translates the same fragment as
“Men I think will remember us even hereafter.” Edwin
Marion Cox (1925), similarly, gives “I think men will remember
us even hereafter.”
Anthropos in the time of Socrates was not neutral for
the same reasons the word misanthropy is colored male today, even
if men’s dictionaries deny it: the aspects of humanity that
existentially render people as “human” were, and are,
gendered masculine. Greek women, whatever their individual qualities,
diverge from that model. Thus their humanity was conditional—something
that applied equally to more minor attributes, such as Athenian
citizenship. Whether or not women counted as authentic people depended
upon the specific arguments, and their rhetorical needs, being made
by men. Only in certain situations did anthropoi (or “mankind”)
include women and only when it benefited males to do so. Contemporary
antifeminists behave similarly with their reinterpretation of “misanthropy,”
its own meaning subordinate to the defense of “misandry.”
Women are allowed to count as fully human in this narrow scenario
(as “agents of misanthropy”) only because doing so grants
men a better weapon, “misandry,” that they can use to
later rescind that same privilege on a broader level.
Yet the secular antifeminists who demand, in their Wikipedia entries
and elsewhere, that anthropos is perfectly gender-neutral,
have not been keeping up with the efforts of their more religious-minded
brethren. Inclusive Language bibles, texts that strive for gender-neutrality,
are not just the domain of Unitarian Universalists: many fundamentalist
congregations also desire a more encompassing translation to aid
in their evangelical work. Even so, it remains a divisive issue.
Some Christian literalists are willing to go as far as allowing
for the absolute de-gendering of God as a Being, though they still
insist that the relationship between God and humanity is
of an essential “male-female” nature where the church,
like the female, exists only to be “penetrated.” Others,
however, are quick to declare the whole project to be a wash. To
this end, they cite numerous sex-specific uses of anthropos,
such as 1 Corinthians 7:1: “It is good for an [anthropos]
not to touch a woman.” Unlike their secular counterparts who
do not have the benefit of calling upon the Apostle Paul to demand
women’s silence, Christian misogynists—those with adequate
schooling at any rate—have no compelling need to rewrite history.
Beyond etymology, something only made relevant by the Coin Defense
and its claims for “misanthropy,” the most counterfeit
feature of misandry can be found in its stark definition. Proponents
insist that its meaning is simply, without further adornment or
explanation, “the hatred of men.” Yet it has never been
used to describe such hatred in general terms. While pro-feminists
are sporadically accused of misandry, it is clear that the word,
as it is used in the real world, more accurately means the “hatred
of men by women.”
Men despise each other in great numbers. They hate one another
for being better at being men—and for being worse at being
men. They often hate themselves for that very same reason. Murder
rates certainly bear witness to this hatred and perhaps the more-masculine-than-not
root of “homicide” serves equally as a grim testament
to this fact. One antifeminist writer, Adam Jones, stole the concept
of “gendercide” from a feminist scholar, Mary Anne Warren
(Gendercide: The Implications of Sex Selection), and tried
to make a career out of being an expert on how men are killed for
being men. Jones conveniently omits from his analysis that their
killers are also male and how that differs from the one-sided brutality
that women face. Men, as a class, are more than willing to risk
engaging in such violence as a cost of doing business: a business
that ensures male dominance over women for the survivors of the
carnage.
Despite men’s animosity towards each other throughout history,
it is clear that such conflicts do not fall under the purview of
misandry; those battles, no matter how gore-soaked their outcome,
never challenge manhood as an institution or an object of reverence.
Yet few who choose to define the word do so honestly. The preference,
due to the Coin Defense, is to keep the definition short, a perfect
mirror for misogyny’s “the hatred of women.” One
rare example to the contrary is the Hutchinson Encyclopaedia
(Helicon Publishing Ltd.): they offer a website on “difficult
words” for readers to test their own vocabulary against. They
describe misandry as the “hatred of men by woman [sic].”
Even this definition is backwards. (One would hope that an encyclopedia
publisher would not have made a simple spelling mistake and thus
their use of “woman,” rather than “women,”
is a meaningful choice.) There is no iconic “woman.”
There is no abstract specter that stalks the wilderness, meting
out hate on specific, individual men. It would be more correct to
say the “hatred of man by women,” not only
for grammatical reasons, but because the only “hatred of men”
that men themselves consider truly threatening is the hatred of
iconic masculinity and patriarchy.
In this light, the origin of the Coin Defense becomes even clearer:
antifeminists believe in a sex-war, where males and females have
been forever locked in a struggle for advantage. They see history
as a sitcom where men and women have always provoked each other
in equal amounts, mathematically balancing pleasure and pain across
gender lines, despite the momentary inequalities that arise. Coins
flip and pendulums swing. They see domestic violence as a “dance,”
where both sides are similarly at fault—a dance where men,
incited to acts of violence by “codependent” women,
suffer in amounts equal to their victims. In this world view, there
are misogynists on one side of the coin, misandrists on the other,
while the “good” people of the world recognize that
the coin is forever spinning and simply accept their fate, heads
or tails, as natural. There has never been any such sex-war with
evenly drawn lines, however, just as there was never a battle between
Pompeii and Mount Vesuvius.
The word misogyny was created long ago within a patriarchal culture.
It was not invented by feminists. It was designed not to protect
women, but men, separating good patriarchs—who were nevertheless
patriarchs—from the bad. Those were the men who went too far,
who needed be too rude or too rough in order to control the women
they held as property; their failure was sign of weakness and infirmity.
“Misogynist” was as an insult towards men who were,
in a sense, women, possessing the worst traits of femininity: irrationality
and a lack of restraint in behavior or appetite. The word misandry
was also created in a patriarchy, as a specific, momentary solution
to a problem faced by antifeminist men. They simply lacked a sophisticated
enough word to describe their complaints against complaining women.
The idea of misandry in a patriarchal culture is a preposterous
one. Nearly all of the examples of misandry cited by so-called “masculists”
(another “coin” invention) are actually things that
benefit men as a class, even if individual men sometimes believe
they have suffered harm. While it is popular to complain about women
being awarded custody of children, on a larger scale, it preserves
male power in other arenas, allowing men to explain away the “wage
gap.” Males might have higher rates of successful suicide
attempts—though, clearly, it is the personally unaffected
who are able to spend their time complaining about this particular
disadvantage—but that also stems from a number of other privileges
that men enjoy: greater access to firearms and the license to often
act selfishly without concern for their dependents. Chivalry, what
little exists, remains a double-edged sword for women while it costs
men nothing as a class, whether they engage in its trivialities
or not.
One antifeminist grievance is that “misandry” itself
is underlined in red on their word-processors as a misspelling:
this they view as a brutal assault upon their psyche, quantitative
proof that men’s lives are worth less in our society than
women’s. Yet it seems likely that future versions of such
software will include the word, given the stealthy campaign they
have launched to install “misandry” in our cultural
vocabulary. This is not done solely on the grassroots level, but
by heading straight to the top as well. The online-editors of traditional
dictionaries and encyclopedias are evidently besieged by
men who want to keep “misandry” in the limelight, even
as they feign ignorance of the word when asking the famous “coin”
question. WordSmith.org once included it on their “Word of
the Day” mailing while AskOxford.com dedicated a webpage to
such queries, shined up a bit into “What is the feminine equivalent
of a misogynist?” Answering with “misandrist,”
Oxford only hints of the political power-play going on behind the
scenes with an enigmatic, “a rare word but seemingly much
sought-after.”
The source most cited as authoritative in the defense of “misandry”
is a webpage hosted by Random House: their Mavens’ Word of
the Day selection (June 3, 1998) answers the question, this time
posed by one Ben Doof. The name is likely a joke from the German
for “I am dumb.” Nevertheless, the Maven (Jesse Sheidlower)
answers it with all manner of seriousness. Although he admits that
misandry is a neologism without any direct precedent, he feels compelled
to toss his antifeminist admirers a bone by hinting otherwise, always
without citation. He begins by setting a date for the first English
use of “misandry” in the 1930s, never mind where or
how it was supposedly used, only to immediately skip ahead to 1989,
mentioning an academic anthology famous only for its simple inclusion
of the word in the title.
Sheidlower also presents the idea of a Greek misandria,
without specifying whether it existed in Ancient or contemporary
Greek. While he states that the English word is “probably”
a re-coinage from the “genuine” article, he does so
after the damage is done: readers, who exist in a society that overly
values Classical material, likely came away with the impression
that the phenomenon of misandry must be real as it was a problem
also faced by men thousands of years ago. They too, required a word
for it. What he does not say, however, is that his misandria
was not found in any original Greek text but in a single scholium—a
margin note penned by a reader—of a copy of Euripides’
Andromache. One, possibly two, uses of a word in 2,400
years of recorded history does not inspire great faith in anything
“genuine” at all: a very poor choice of words by The
Maven.
The passage in question, line 228 of Andromache, refers
to the protagonist speaking of women’s suffering and their
faithful endurance in marriages to adulterous husbands. Euripides,
though sensitive in several ways to the idea of misogyny, creates
a reversal where it is the jealous wife, rather than her husband,
who is deemed sexually insatiable: a feminine stereotype in that
day. Andromache forswears her own sexuality as such lust for men,
even that for a husband within the confines of marriage, brings
only pain. At some point, one scholar marked the passage with mis-andria.
Perhaps he believed that Euripides did not go far enough in protecting
male interests or that the reversal was too open to ironic interpretation.
Certainly it is to some extent, though sympathy for the condition
of women is not necessarily a proto-feminist act if the subordinate
condition itself is considered natural.
While Ben Doof did not bother to ask about “misanthropy,”
Sheidlower addresses that as well, strangely, as he never introduces
his readers as to why it might be relevant to the discussion.
It is clear that Sheidlower is at least aware of the standard antifeminist
script or is actually following it himself. Indeed, when many readers
wrote in to make the cogent point that the opposite of misogyny
is not the “hated of men” but the “love of women,”
he asserts that he felt confident making his assumption about what
Doof was really asking, given that he had “gotten
many questions in the past that did clearly seek the word for the
‘hatred of men.’” Despite his evident familiarity
with how antifeminists work to promote their rhetoric, he never
lets his readers in on the existence of that script or its predictable
outcome: his scholarly tone, despite refusing to back up any of
his claims, belies the utterly naïve way in which he answers
the question, skirting around the politics that charge the debate.
After all, if it were a debate, there could not be an authoritative
expert like Sheidlower to declare that “misanthropy”
is perfectly gender-neutral in meaning because “all modern
dictionaries are clear that a misanthrope is a person who hates
humans, not males alone.”
In other circumstances, it seems likely that he would know better
than to say such a thing: language is infinitely more complex than
that. In an associated webpage on “sensitive language,”
Random House is firm that while they have a responsibility to not
offend their readers, as linguists they are committed to not misrepresenting
the language “as it really is” by omitting such words
or how they are used in society. Yet that is precisely the behavior
that Sheidlower is engaging in. He was willing to whitewash “misandry”
and the politics that inform the discussion, all so he could weigh
in as an unbiased expert with a neutral opinion. He stripped out
the problematic layers in order to make it a word on par with “apple”
and not “homicide-bomber.” While that ridiculous expression,
meaningless as it might be, is now synonymous with the Bush administration
and FOX News, antifeminists have had no shortage of expert help
in wiping their fingerprints off of “misandry.”
As words, misandry and homicide-bomber have everything in common.
Both are attempts to deliberately reframe an existing concept: neither
makes any empirical sense without prior knowledge of “misogyny”
and “suicide-bomber” as a reference point. Both attempt
to invert power structures through their rhetoric: women and developing
nations are seen as cowardly oppressors who refuse to honorably
fight, and lose, on an uneven footing. Both are also tied to specific
political groups: antifeminists and American conservatives. Yet
while one term is a laughing stock of the liberal community, misandry
has been making significant headway.
Not only have the men of the Left been receptive of the antifeminist
message, as otherwise competing male-demographics are held together
by the one privilege they hold in common, feminist women have sometimes
found themselves using “misandry” as well. In many ways
that is to be expected: they, too, are products of a society that
affords status to words that merely sound “elite,” something
the creators of “misandry” capitalized on. The world
of academics, especially, is a post-modernist war zone where annihilation
comes swiftly for those not stocked with a full arsenal of elitist
jargon. Furthermore, females are raised to assume that when they
do not know something that the fault lies with them: many feminists
who encounter “misandry” for the first time often assume
that the term’s unfamiliarity is a result of their own ignorance.
On the other hand, sometimes feminists aware of the unsavory aspects
of “misandry” still find themselves using the word for
a variety of reasons. Some do so as a conciliatory gesture: they
believe that by admitting that misandry exists in some fashion or
another, at least sufficiently enough to justify the presence of
the word in English, they will position them as moderates in the
debate. They see language as a minor point of contention and trust
that their compliance will pay dividends when the argument, now
with men more favorable towards them as individual women, shifts
to a more pressing issue. That shift never arrives, however, as
such debates are dictated by the Coin Defense, where misandry and
misogyny are held to be equally competing forces. Unsurprisingly,
this happens more frequently in “progressive” circles
where racism and institutional-racism are no longer considered equivalent
expressions.
Other feminists believe that they can exert personal agency by
claiming to be misandrists. They feel that they can beat men at
their own game by adopting the term, as if their audacity in proudly
taking up the label translates directly into political power. However,
this differs entirely from performances given by Valerie Solanas
and other iconic “man haters” in that self-avowed misandrists
only adopt the title when engaged in conversations with men, generally
in spaces under male control. While unexpectedly turning a “gender
war” argument on its head can certainly be amusing, as men
used to palliative women often do not have a suitable answer in
response, the display of misandry is entirely focused on retaining
male attention. Men as a class enjoy being abused in controlled
environments by women, as no power exchange takes place despite
the amusing pretense: it is the women who ignore men, not hate them,
who incite the patriarchy’s most dystopian fears.
The existence and legitimacy of “misandry” is not a
minor point of contention or a mere triviality of language. Nor
is it an excuse to play the part of a dominatrix. Instead, it speaks
to male control of history, a currency that only groups in power
are allowed to spend. Even the most ignorant of white men are allowed
to view themselves as a consummate experts on the past, present,
and future. It is no exaggeration to use the word “cocksure”
when describing a layman’s insistence that “misanthropy”
means this or that, “this” or “that” being
whatever he needs it to mean in a given moment: his authority is
derived from the interplay between modern and ancient man—and
the fiction of masculinity that bonds them together. It is of vital
important to undermine and disrupt that authority.
Even the most educated and brilliant women have no such control
over history or the language society uses to describe it. While
dictionary editors and their word mavens have fallen in love with
“misandry,” none have presented any selections from
Mary Daly’s Wickedary for the benefit of their readers.
The Coin Defense is rather one sided, it would seem. In fact, many
radical feminists themselves have abandoned politically constructed
words like “womyn” or “womon,” worried that
to use them is to be needlessly divisive and direct attention away
from the specific points they are making. Men, with their “misandry,”
are not worried about being divisive. They only care about punching
through their opposition and coming out on top.
Misandry:
mi•sand•ry n. A love for honest speech; accordance
with reality: “Besides preaching misandry,
the basic premise of women’s lib is that women are more discriminated
against than men. That is the biggest hoax in the Western world”
(Richard F. Doyle of the Christian Party). [A parallel construction
of English misogyny, by American antifeminists in the late
20th century.]
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