You are not a good man

the measure of a man is how badly he can hurt you

The performative man, the feigned feminist, the matcha drinking, Clairo listening, crop-top wearing, tote bag hanging man. The man you see at a local café with Mrs. Dalloway held uncomfortably in his hands. The man you see darting his eyes from left to right, hoping to find an unsuspecting woman to make even more uncomfortable eye-contact with. The man you’ve become accustomed to being wary of because a man’s reputation precedes him. The power of a man is being known by everyone without ever exchanging a word with him. It draws some in, expels others, but the performative man always leads to the same conclusion: Disappointment.

The measure of such disappointment is different for everyone. Sometimes it’s heartbreak, sometimes it’s manipulation, sometimes it’s fear, sometimes it’s just vague irritation. Regardless of the scale of such disappointment, humoring a man is like flipping a coin, or more aptly, a catch-22.

Catch-22: A dilemma or difficult circumstance from which there is no escape because of the mutually conflicting or dependent conditions.

Originating from Joseph Heller’s 1961 novel of the same name, the term was used to describe a pilot’s attempt to avoid life-threatening missions by claiming insanity. Yossarian (the pilot) realized, however, that there was truly no escape from his missions. To declare insanity is to inadvertently prove one’s own sanity, because one would need to be insane to want to fly the missions in the first place.

“That’s some Catch-22, that Catch-22.”

And so what of the man? The patriarchy, your neighbor, your brother, your father, your friend; men are everywhere and we are reminded every day that men own everything. It’s a miserable existence, I know. I benefit from the patriarchy, this essay is proof of that. There is no escape from the man. The bear? Sure, you have a chance, as slim as it is, but the worst outcome would be being torn apart and eaten. There are worse lives being lived caused by the irredeemable, irreversible transgressions of men. And yet, despite this violent awareness of the man’s actions, despite some people’s attempts to go about their lives without men in it, like one’s declaration of insanity, the man is unavoidable. He is everywhere, he dictates our lives, he makes our laws, he builds a path for the powerful and the lawless and the powerfully lawless. He rapes, he pillages, he lies, he cheats, he performs. That is the man that resembles a snake in the grass, the one that hides his true nature, the one that holds Virginia Woolf in his hands with one eye looking at the door and the other at a stranger.

I’ve held Woolf in my hands. I wear crop tops, I have tote bags hanging from my shoulder, I drink matcha, I occasionally listen to Clairo, and I read books by women who have pushed the culture. Although I’m against the idea of assigning gender to such things for risk of pushing the narrative that men should only partake in perceived masculine hobbies, I cannot fault a woman for the distrust, the anger, the justifiable rage one feels towards a man for simply existing. I cannot fault a woman for looking at me at a café, R.F. Kuang in my hands, and seeing me as another performer, another risk, another danger, regardless of my innocuous nature. A woman’s life is never knowing when one’s freedoms will be taken advantage of, taken away, or belittled. And yet, those who seek friendship, or those who seek romance, have to confront the Catch-22 of simply wanting companionship in any form. That, more than womanhood, is the human condition.

“Being a woman is a terribly difficult trade since it consists principally of dealings with men.”

The quote above, though speaking of women in particular, is how I view most things that relate to long-overdue social change. Being Black is a terribly difficult trade because it consists of dealings with white men. Being Mexican, being Asian, being anything other than what controls a government, a country, or the world, is difficult because to overcome tumultuous circumstances requires constant dealings with one’s own oppressors. Sometimes choosing to ignore it all feels like the only escape, and so we remain where we are, we remain in a disadvantaged state, and the world keeps spinning.

Wanting to live a better, fulfilled life, but having to pursue potential, almost guaranteed unhappiness in the process. Wanting love, wanting companionship is a sane desire, seeking those things requires a proclamation of insanity. That’s some Catch-22, that Catch-22.