The Chivalry of the 21st Century

By CK Sanders

Oh, the never-ending challenge of managing politeness with self-preservation. I own a vacation house on a remote creek with a gay friend of mine (this is relevant later). Many days I go on my own just to read, write, swim and relax. There’s hardly ever anyone out on the water, making it the perfect spot for meditation, reflection . . . and apparently now waterside-harassment.

Many would argue especially after the #MeToo movement, that women should feel at least a little safer, respected, or less bothered by unwanted attention. Recently, I was reminded of how far we have to go.

You’ve heard of “the glass ceiling” when it comes to women’s advancement in the workplace (or lack thereof) — the theory that a woman can only go so far in her career due to oppression and discrimination. Indeed, we have made so much progress in the last 100 years, but I’m convinced women still live everyday life swimming in circles in an “invisible aquarium” — created by and enforced by men who feel threatened.

Picture barriers on all sides of life. Women can’t always see them but they can sure as heck feel them and when they do, they are gaslit by men claiming they don’t exist. We have a lot more room to swim since the “invisible aquarium,” has gotten bigger, but sadly it’s still here. (Big props to you suffragettes, RBG, Gloria Steinem and the bra-burning sisterhood for getting us this far.)

Case in point: I was writing in my journal when I saw a shirtless fisherman farther down the creek in a motorized boat coming my way. I could tell he was in his 50’s or 60’s, smoking and drinking. He yelled across the creek to a male neighbor to ask the time. The neighbor, seeing he was inebriated, shouted back “1:30pm” and asked if he was ok.

My first instinct was to hide. I had been trained well. Namely, don’t make conversation with drunk or shirtless men, especially if you are alone and feel unsafe. I immediately adjusted the umbrella so I was harder to see. He passed me by and because of the sun’s glare, he didn’t even see me sitting a mere 30 feet away. About an hour later I went up to the house, but when I returned he saw me.

“Helluuuuu!” he shouted, now a few more beers in.
“Hello!” I said, trying to internally kibosh my uneasiness.
“Lots of carp but not the five-pound bass I wanted. How about you? I see your pole there,” he said.
“Nope, nothing yet,” I said.
“Do you go out by yourself?” he asked.
“No,” I said, “WE go with friends sometimes, but today, WE’RE just trying off the deck.”
“You know 7:30pm is the perfect fishin’ time,” he said, trying to keep his inebriated head upright.
“Thanks for the tip! Best of luck!” I said, hoping to exit gracefully.
“Best of luck to you and maybe we’ll go fishin’ together sometime?” he asked.

I instinctually started searching for my cell phone with my eyes, scanning my peripheral view for any neighboring witnesses. With his awkward offer hanging mid-air and waiting for a response, I cast my gaze down to my journal again.

“Nice dock” he continued.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Mind if I rest my legs there sometime?” he asked.

I would guess a lot of women recognize that THIS was a pivotal moment. This is where as a solo woman, I had to make a decision. Did I say “anytime” like a “nice neighbor” and hope he sailed along? Or did I say what I really wanted to say or even nothing and risk pissing off a drunk guy who may return to exact revenge?

I would guess a lot of men will say he was harmless and maybe I watch too many scary movies. (And I admit, a psychotic shirtless Billy Zane rowing desperately to Nicole Kidman’s boat at the beginning of the film “Dead Calm” did come to mind.)

Herein lies the rub: My default path of least resistance is usually the “be nice” route. Unfortunately, then I risk encouraging a return because I said it was okay. I hate it, but it usually works — at the expense of my dignity. I have no idea who this guy is. He may be a completely harmless neighbor but he also might be an unhinged drifter with a penchant for killing chubby girls and using their stretchy skin to sew his own flesh suit. But I digress. . .

“Sure!” I said, giving in.
“Thanks, DOLL!” he cooed as he motored off.

If you think this is a totally benign interaction, look at my automatic physiological and psychological responses; responses that warn doom is coming; responses ingrained in me since being whistled at by gardeners at the community pool when I was 11 and covering myself up, all the way to narrowly escaping a rape in my 30’s by jumping into an elevator just in time.

Most girls, at least in the United States, are taught to fear strangers — especially men and not just drunk and shirtless ones. Things like “men only want one thing” are lessons girls learn as rites of passage. We know this protects women’s physical safety long-term but how does this bias affect good men and how often does it automatically put them on the defensive?

“Fear is a gift,” said author Gavin de Becker. We learn that some threats are real and some perceived but regardless, as a woman, you assume the worst because assuming the best could mean your life. This “polite at your own expense” behavior was never expressly passed on to me by my mother or women elders. Children also learn by watching. I realized in that moment if I had a daughter sitting there, I would have passed this baton to yet another generation.

I hate that when I am alone at the house, I will now use my gay friend as a “beard” — as in my “My HUSBAND loves to fish but he spends so much time at the ARMY base GYM working out.” I hate that my male friend is my “weapon” and will be used as my first line of defense with seemingly creepy guys.

“Male privilege” is taken for granted or often perceived as just an absence of physical vulnerability in the world. It is so much more. Whatever oppressed group you belong to, just add “woman” to it and you‘ve been thrown into the “invisible aquarium” — a kind of all-encompassing lifetime jail that keeps women’s ambitions, bodies and movements limited as to not threaten the status quo — no matter how fast or well we swim. Being held back from our true potential, held captive against our will, being physically violated or being objectified and sexualized by the male gaze, are the primary purposes of the “invisible aquarium” — “male privilege” keeps the walls intact.

How so, you ask? Well, I associate “male privilege” with freedom to travel wherever and when you want and not be bothered, not being shunned or persecuted for deciding not to a have a child, not being bullied or forced to have sex, the ability to wear what you want and not be mocked, the ability to get a better job and make more money, the ability to get more access to food, shelter and resources, an increased likelihood of being listened to in a crowd of peers, an increased likelihood of getting a loan to start a business or getting promoted … the list goes on. “Male privilege” has literally nothing to do with a man’s looks and everything to do with his genitals.

That doesn’t make all men guilty by association. Much has been said about “toxic masculinity” and that harm comes from conformity to traditional masculine ideals. What must it be like though for honorable men to know that their intentions are constantly suspect and how does that affect their advocacy for women’s equality? Rather than trying to affect change, understandably some men would feel blamed when they are grouped and could slip into victimhood —perpetuating the oppression of women out of their own insecurity. And where does this insecurity come from? Is the thought that society might deem them disposable? Ludicrous.

I don’t believe every man should apologize for his gender. If he is of good character, he knows this deep down and nothing should convince him otherwise. But what are women to do — deny our instincts or societal conditioning when we feel physically threatened or oppressed? Should women always have to infantilize men and make them feel good about themselves? Feeding a man’s ego is just another form of treading water in the aquarium and personally, I refuse to do it.

Unfortunately, good men are unwittingly perpetuating this misogynistic culture. Good men willing to risk criticism at inconvenient times when it counts to say “not on my watch” will actually make a difference — wielding the power they have for good. But how many times do you actually see men sticking up for women’s rights or calling out guys who disrespect women? Women get fired, abused or worse yet, die because of third party inaction or apathy.

So who is going to drain and dump this hellish construct into the open ocean of equality? Will women eventually acquire enough power to enforce equal treatment or will men willingly give away power once they understand that equality doesn’t threaten their manhood — and if anything it increases their wealth and prosperity? Seems the faster route is the latter but our historically patriarchal roots suggest we shouldn’t hold our breath. We’ve fought 100x over for our rights. At some point, can we question why it has to be a “fight” anymore? The constitutional Equal Rights Amendment still hasn’t passed for goodness sake!

In my ideal world, “feminist” wouldn’t be considered a bad word — as it still is so often today. I would ask men not to feel attacked by my generalizations nor demand my politeness if they do. It has nothing to do with how good they are individually now but everything to do with how much better they as a gender collectively can be. Meryl Streep has called this “the chivalry of the 21st century.”

I would ask them to become allies by keeping their male friends in check; demonstrating what is acceptable behavior and language and what is not — things like not asking a woman if she is alone. There’s no faster way to creep her out. Simple things like not talking about women’s bodies which objectifies them as just things used for your pleasure; things like not using the word “bitch” to describe a take-charge woman (who is just doing her job and doing it well) would be helpful. What about anticipating that walking close behind a woman at night is going to scare the crap out of her and choosing to cross the street or keep your distance? At the very least, stay away from MY dock if you’re going to drunkenly hit on me. LOL! Save it for the corner bar — another battleground women avoid on their own.

In the meantime, we’ll do our best Dori impressions and “just keep swimming.” Being a woman anywhere in the world is exhausting — constantly calculating and shifting sails based on instinct. That said, I’m well aware of my white woman privilege and forever grateful that at least I won the geographic lotto in this life. Obviously, it’s immeasurably worse for my international sisters, and especially my gay, transgender and sisters of color around the world. I can’t even imagine.

So did the fisherman come back? Of course, he did. Twice. Two days in a row and right at 7:30pm — “the perfect fishin’ time.” I was up in the house when he passed by. I quickly ducked both times, turned the lights off and turned the security camera on just in case he decided to “stretch his legs.” It was 90 degrees out but the windows were locked shut and will stay that way. Back into the “invisible aquarium” — for now.