Damn The Patriarchy, Full Speed Ahead!

With all that’s been written about “toxic masculinity,” there were many articles that I never read because … why would I? Surely they were just more paragraphs in the long and numbing description of the failings of my gender.

But recently I decided to check out just what was this toxic masculinity, anyway. Just for a lark, you understand. So I asked ChatGPT to write me a definition. In less than ten seconds my computer presented me with a really fine essay, from which I excerpted this passage:

Toxic masculinity refers to a set of socially constructed attitudes that reinforce male dominance, emotional repression, and aggression as defining traits of manhood. Rooted in patriarchal traditions, it perpetuates the belief that men must adhere to rigid gender norms, such as being physically strong, emotionally stoic, and assertive. This form of masculinity not only harms women and marginalized groups but also men themselves.

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Then I asked my new oracle for 300 words on “toxic femininity.” I wasn’t even sure there was such a term, but there was. Here’s an excerpt from that piece:

Toxic femininity refers to a set of socially constructed behaviors and traits that pressure women to conform to restrictive and harmful ideals of traditional femininity. Just as toxic masculinity reinforces harmful stereotypes about men, toxic femininity stems from patriarchal systems that define women’s roles in limiting, often disempowering, ways.

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It did not escape me that both these examples of toxicity were being blamed on “the patriarchy.” Unfortunately, I am a lifelong member of that noxious fraternity. In the late 60s, my former wife and I were attending Unitarian church services in Minneapolis when the minister astounded me by telling us that a large number of women were unhappy with their lot and were not satisfied with having only the “big four” life choices offered to them.

• homemaker
• teacher
• nurse
• librarian

I turned to my ex-wife (a nurse) and asked … is this true? She looked at me with an expression that said volumes: Yes it is true, fool, and how could you have not noticed?

I walked out the door of the church, the scales newly fallen from my eyes, and soon discovered that there was something called feminism which was composed of battalions of fierce women who were marching, venting, and creatively expressing their collective anger.

Within feminist scholarship, patriarchy has been understood more broadly as the system in which men as a group are constructed as superior to women as a group and as such have authority over them.

International Encyclopedia of Human Geography

And who were they mad at? You got it, the patriarchy. I took it all very personally. (Which was not too odd because this was at a point in my life when I was pretty much taking everything personally.) Not only was I a (gasp, puke) male and therefore one of the prime targets of feminism, but I was white, straight, and Protestant as well. Most of America was pissed off at at least one of the groups that I belonged to.

I’ve never quite gotten over that day at the Unitarian Church. Realizing how unobservant and unimaginative I had been was like getting a pail of ice water in the face. Humbling, depressing, and dampening all at once.

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One of our favorite hikes is up at the Black Canyon National Park. It starts at the Visitor Center and loops around and up and down for about 3 miles. ‘Tis a good workout for Robin and I. Thought I’d include a handful of pix for your edification. The course is an amalgam of three shorter paths, the Oakflat, Uplands, and Rimrock trails.

There were still a raft of visitors to the park, taking up the parking spaces at the visitor center. I find it quite annoying when foreigners in my park are too abundant. There was one amusing moment. I had just left my car and was heading for the trailhead when I was accosted by a woman about my age.

The lady came immediately to the point: “You look like someone who would know about the trails – do you know where the Rimrock Trail begins?“

It happened that I did know exactly that: “If you follow this rail fence behind me across the parking lot, it ends where your trail begins.”

She seemed satisfied, and added: “Thank you. I knew I had the right person.”

Leaving me to wonder just what look I was projecting. I decided that it was a positive one, and walked smugly away.

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Robin has been away for nearly a week now, back in South Dakota renewing friendships and spending time with her sister Jill. As is my usual, I do no cleaning, dusting, or sprucing up until the very last day before she returns.

I am much better at keeping the kitchen clean, however. I seem to have a talent for operating a dishwasher, and use it at every opportunity. My motto is Never Let The Sun Set On Leaving Something In The Dishwasher. What’s the point of owning the thing if you don’t give it a run now and then?

But my habit of turning it on and then going to bed is probably not the wisest course, since all mechanical things eventually fail, and waking to a kitchen flood would be a bad start to any day.

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