Bedsider

An Ode to Good Dudes

Originally published on SexReally.com on December 9, 2009.

As someone who’s outspoken and calls herself a feminist, I have been categorized as a ‘man-hater’ on more than one occasion. Would that life were that simple. I was struck once by a bell hooks quote that critique is the strongest expression of love, because it has at its core the belief that the person you are talking to is capable of change and growth. Truth is I—like many other feminists—love men. And like so many things I love, they have the capacity to blow my mind one moment and break my heart the next. When I find myself critical of what I consider to be the negative and harmful implications of traditional masculinity, it is because I think more, and better, is possible. This is an acknowledgement of the more and better this world could demand and expect. It is possible—if in fragments, if in moments—and deserves recognition.

In my early 20’s, I experienced an exquisitely horrible and public breakup. Wresting myself from that situation was necessary to escape manipulation, dishonesty, and lack of respect on a host of levels. I was shaken to my core, as the relationship was formative and long-standing. I had a tremendous amount invested in a person who turned out to be one of the greatest threats to my well-being I have ever encountered. I steered clear of men—very, very clear—for a very, very long time afterward.

I traveled a lot in that time as a musician. It had been a full year since I had touched or kissed another boy. It was safer—better—that way. One night, a year later, my band found itself at a friend’s house out of state. He had a big bed and I trusted him, so I slept in it. I felt some attraction, but knew that, while charming, this guy had a rep with the ladies, so we simply slept. In the morning we woke up and something felt electric. We kissed and it was unexpected, and was the first time I had had any physical contact with a guy in over a year. I was happy and felt safe—until about 10 minutes into it, where the weight of what I had dealt with kicked in, and I was deep in panic. I started shaking and crying—a horrifying thing to have happen with someone you actually want to be present with.

I couldn’t imagine how a dude I was inspired by but believed to be a womanizer would respond. This guy, this tough, tattooed, twice-my-size guy, sat up instantly and pulled me up. And hugged me. Tight. He knew what had happened. And he said, without skipping a beat, “You aren’t there anymore. He isn’t here. And we can stop. And you are my friend and you are safe. You never have to be back in that moment.”

Funnily, I realized just then that he had a mirror over his bed. And that he was one of the more sensitive, loving men I would ever come across in my life. I began to understand the paradox and see that maybe the nice guy/bad boy dichotomy was not always fully apt.

One of my close friends also provides immense support to everyone whose life he touches. One night I was responsible for 1,000 people attending a concert. Afterwards I was supposed to cook dinner for a crew of about 20 people. The event was a huge success, but it was late and I was on the brink of collapse. Without a peep from me, my friend saw what was going on, went to the grocery store and, by the time I arrived at my house, had cooked for everyone. So that I wouldn’t have to. Because he had my back. This was also the kind of guy who would walk his female friends to their cars after late nights out dancing. He is my big cheerleader, my heart and my rock.

Another man I knew through music also exercised a great deal of perception and ingenuity in being an ally to women. One night during a tour with his band, he found himself in a living room that had been the scene of a post-show party. One woman, a member of one of the other bands, had passed out drunk. A guy there was trying to drag her, inert, into the other room to have sex with her while she was unconscious. The man I was acquainted with conferred with his bandmate and one of them went to buy coffee and cigarettes while the other blocked the doors. All night long, the two just sipped coffee and chain-smoked to keep an eye on the would-be rapist. The guy was angry and cussed them out, but in the morning he thanked them, saying he had been on the brink of making a huge mistake.

I feel grateful for having men like this in my life. I know these are only a few examples of the myriad ways in which men support women—examples of ways in which I have been impacted. This should not be rare, and is not rare, but these are not the kind of stories we hear enough of. These are stories that I tell myself to drown out other stories—stories that shake my faith and hurt my trust. This should be what we as a society expect from our men. Integrity, decency, honesty, sense of community and compassion.

There are men I know who have expressed to me that when they wanted to stand up for something or speak against a crowd, there were negative social consequences for doing so. I think feminist support of healthier masculinity means figuring out how to make these choices more attractive and “normal”. And that work belongs to all of us—not just men.

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Katy Otto is a social justice activist, writer and musician who grew up in the DC area. She works in nonprofit management and development.