Yes, All Men

December 2017 I was on Main Street with my husband and our dog anticipating the annual Festival of Lights Parade. It was a sweet event, enthusiastically received by the throngs of families that lined the sidewalk; every year I'm surprised to see just how many people Poughkeepsie seems to hold. The Mayor gave a speech just barely audible over the shrieks of excited children; someone sang Silent Night and, at last, the man of the hour arrived: Santa Claus.
The man in the red suit was well cast for the role. He was jovial and friendly with a voice that boomed convincingly. Before going up to the microphone to count down the tree lighting he had informally been saying hello to everyone. He came up to me and asked, "are you a good girl, or a naughty girl?"
Since, at the age of 32, I genuinely wasn't expecting Santa to ask me anything, least of all that, I answered, "I'm always good."
"Oh!" He replied, tucking his chin down to give me a meaningful look. "Santa doesn't like that!"
My husband, standing just next to me, had been in conversation with a member of the city's Latino business community. They fell silent as they observed the encounter.
"Man, that guy was creepy!" businessman man shook his head.
"Do you know him?" My husband asked.
I do; he's a frequent visitor to my office and known to my female co-workers as a hugger. That is to say, he greets you with a hug whether you want it or not. Until this moment he had always managed to nimbly walk the line between annoying and inappropriate physical contact. We were never exactly excited to see him but never felt the need to officially complain.
What flabbergasted me was his timing. Toward the end of 2017 allegations of inappropriate and abusive sexual behavior were gathering around Harvey Weinstein, Louis C.K., and Al Franken like dark storm clouds.  The depth and commonality of sexual harassment in the workplace, although not a surprise to any woman, was like acid eating away any sense of calm on the internet. Every morning the tally of allegations went up, and somebody new was "stepping down." It was no longer underground; women used to speak in hushed coded language about co-workers to avoid, and give meaningful looks. This was as subtle as dismantling Saddam Hussein's statue 2 weeks into Desert Storm.
Did recent headlines cause any anxiety for Santa Clause regarding his behavior?

NOPE

Probably what actually happened is he saw these headlines and, like many other men, said, "well, I've never been in this exact situation so I'm good," and carried on as usual. Before some random dude leaves the #notallmen comment, yes, I see you morally-upright-sensitive-and-considerate-member-of-the-male-gender; please put your hand down and stop squirming in anticipation of pointing out how you would never do this to a co-worker. The thing is, you probably definitely have.

I don't care about the neck-beards who become consumed by rage the minute "m'lady" doesn't respond to their PM on Reddit; I'm not writing to the men who joked to their bros about violent rape; I'm ignoring the men who have active anger towards women. Those assholes are low-hanging fruit. 

Rather, I'm setting my sights on the guys who say they respect women, would never hurt a woman and then go out and kill us slowly by a thousand paper cuts.

YOU

You, my male friends who have always been named "great guys," yet also asked if I'd be willing to let my boyfriend punch me in the face to achieve a strawberry shortcake. The guys in my life who seemed to think that if you were sexually aroused by me because I touched your hair, or we kissed, I was obligated to "take care of it." The guys during college who refused to walk through a door I had opened, who made fun and mimicked my voice every time I had something serious to say; the guy friend I've known since 8th-grade gym and shoved his hand down my jeans at a bar.

I sincerely believe that none of you ever asked yourselves whether you're assholes, and you may have zero memory of doing any of this. I've forgiven you, and maybe maintained friendships with you because, if I had to cut out every man who ever stomped or trod heavily on my femininity, my only refuge would be with the Amazons on Themiscyra.

The thing is, we all get caught in the same trap: Because I've never said the "N" word with malicious intent, it's tempting to believe that I have never committed a racial transgression. Likewise, so many men out there are thinking, "I've never given a woman a black eye or violently raped a stone-cold sober virgin, so I've never abused anyone!" We're both wrong.

Likewise, men may also be telling themselves, "ok, but I don't make sexual overtures on my female co-workers just because they're women." Great, but that's like saying, "Listen, I have nothing against black people, they just seem more deserving of being lynched."

When you grow up a girl you receive a really special, unique education: 

How to Get Along With Men.

A) If you like them, laugh at their jokes. If you don't, you have no sense of humor.

B) Be conscious of your body language. You may be leaning towards them in order to hear them better in the noisy bar, but you're actually saying you want them to fuck you; if that's not the case, that's your fault.

C) Be pleasant, no one likes a frosty bitch.

D) But not too pleasant otherwise you seem ditzy

E) Be intelligent

F) But not too intelligent, don't want to scare them off!

G) If you don't want to have sex, don't make eye contact

H) If you don't want to have sex, don't make conversation

I) Be careful of their feelings.

J) Have some self-respect and don't dress like a slut.

K) But loosen up a little!

From the minute we start showing curves, female life is a perpetual, gigantic game of chess with fatal consequences. We play every piece on the board: expendable pawns, straightforward rooks, moralistic bishops, crusading knight, innocent kings, and devious, fearsome queens. We appear as confusing and complicated beings because we're observed thinking 5 moves into the future without anyone ever understanding why or how. Men, lucky souls, get to live in the moment!

Now some beleaguered men are saying, "I guess we just walk around on eggshells now," "because you just never know anymore what's going to be a problem!" and (my favourite) "I just don't even bother complimenting them anymore."

OKAY.

That's the life we've been living. We have always walked around on eggshells whether to protect your fragile ego or ourselves (see: How to Get Along With Men). We have never known if you're going to be a mostly harmless creep making our evening out inconvenient or if we'll be the subject of an unsolved murder podcast. Yet, I get this sense that I'm expected to cock my head to the side sympathetically and say, "Oh, don't worry about that!" Yeah, I'm not going to do that.

Guys, this year is the year to start questioning your behavior and second-guessing yourself. This is the year to scrutinize whether your past actions have screwed future you. This is the year to be cautious and ask yourself, "am I sending mixed messages when I say this or do that?" Even you "nice guys," this is the year you start living like a woman. No, don't put on makeup or a dress (unless you want to, I always thought mascara and eyeliner looked awesome on you); but the anxiety, the never-being-certain, the-fingers-crossed-behind-our-back-that-this-won't-hurt-us; the-oh-my-god-please-don't-take-this-the-wrong-way-and-ruin-my-life panic: That's all yours now. When you go back to your desk after lunch, when you're done getting coffee, just scan through every interaction you have ever had with a female and ask yourself, "did I inadvertently, not meaning to, just out of carelessness, just not thinking, did I hurt her?" 

Because I guarantee you, the answer is yes.