[dropcap]A[/dropcap]s I indicated in a comment on James Huff’s recent article “Reaching out to your fellow man,” I am generally at a loss for words at this time of year. I loathe the idea of sounding like a Hallmark card, especially so where it concerns a community of men, many of whom have been devastated in ways that cut to the core at this time of year; lost children, lost homes, lost sense of belonging.
After all, when we peek underneath the bantering and commentary common to this environment, that is what we are left with; men for whom Christmas, and all that it means, has been transformed into a traditional, unavoidable reminder of what was taken, and what will never be again.
So I have no holiday cheers to send, at least not in the traditional sense. But just saying that this is a difficult time for me to know what to say is not good enough. Since I made that comment I have looked back on it with embarrassment. I have pledged my life to defying the demand for my silence. Going mute, where it may count the most, is a betrayal of that in its worst form.
So let me say what I should have said then. For all of you, no matter how long you have been forced into that corner and kicked; no matter how much you have been betrayed and no matter what sort of gaping hole has been left in your lives as a reward for being a “good man,” we are with you during this time. Of course, we cannot “fix” anything. We have no such power, nor will we ever. But we can offer something, a gift from us all to each other, that has been so lacking for so many for so long. You fucking matter here.
This site was established about you and for you, based on the absolute certainty of your intrinsic worth; of your value outside of your utility or usefulness to others, or to the system.
It is important for you to know that there are people working for you. We do a lot of work to expose and undermine hateful feminists, and that is, of course, a noble and worthy cause. But the end goal here is not nearly about that alone. The end goal here, if I may be so lofty as to phrase it this way, is to create an environment unlike anything else seen in human history; a home for men that they actually own. A place where their existence alone is sufficient for inclusion, and the only price paid for being loved.
And that is the rub, isn’t it? Men have, throughout time, been used, exploited, sacrificed and expended; forced into the role of pack animal and personal bodyguard. They have been rewarded for this with false accolades and more expectation. On occasion, they are the recipients of honor tainted with the fact that such positives are contingent on further usefulness to anyone but themselves.
But have they been truly loved? We think not. How could any form of love among human beings result in so much death and pain? In this place, we pass on the mockery of feigned affections, on conditional approval and the strings attached to acceptance as a man.
We pass on your disposability once and for all.
With that, I am going to take some time with my other family over the next couple of days. I just could not make myself begin that in good conscience without saying some things first. If I come across as Hallmarkish or canned, please accept my apologies. This is awkward business, telling you that you are loved. But it is, when all is said and done, the only real business we are in.
