Vivek Shraya

"A powerful meditation on the damaging effects of masculinity from a trans girl--a writer with celebrated indie roots and a knack for dismantling assumptions and challenging the status quo. Toxic masculinity takes many insidious forms, from misogyny and sexual harassment to homophobia, transphobia, and bullying. Vivek Shraya has firsthand experience with nearly all of them. As a boy, Vivek exhibited "feminine" qualities. The men in her life immediately and violently disapproved. They taught her to fear the word girl by turning it into a weapon used to hurt her. They taught her to hate her femininity, to destroy the best parts of herself. In order to survive, Vivek had to learn to convincingly perform masculinity. As a girl, she's still afraid. Having spent years undoing the damage and salvaging her lost girlhood, she is haunted by the violence of men, seldom dressing the way she wants in public. As a result she is often still perceived as male, stirring feelings of guilt and self-doubt: Am I not feminine enough? Is this my fault for striving to be the perfect man and excelling at it? I'm Afraid of Men is a culmination of the years Vivek spent observing men and creating her own version of manhood. Through deeply personal reflection, she offers a rare and multifaceted perspective on gender and a hopeful reimagining of masculinity at a time when it's needed more than ever."--

I'm Afraid of Men

Lindsay

And so, I'm also afraid of women. I'm afraid of women who've either emboldened or defended the men who have harmed me, or have watched in silence. I'm afraid of women who adopt masculine traits and then feel compelled to dominate or silence me at dinner parties. I'm afraid of women who see my as a predator and whose comfort I consequently put before my own by using male locker rooms. I'm afraid of women who've internalized their experiences of misogyny so deeply that they make me their punching bag. I'm afraid of the women who, like men, reject my pronouns and refuse to see my femininity or who comment on or criticize my appearance down to my chipped nail polish to reiterate that I am not one of them. I'm afraid of women who, when I share my experiences of being trans, try to console me by announcing 'welcome to being a woman!' refusing to recognize the ways in which our experiences fundamentally differ. But I'm especially afraid of women because my history has taught me that I can't fully rely upon other women for sisterhood, or ally-ship or protection from men.

Out of this fear comes a desire not only to reimagine masculinity, but to blur gendered boundaries altogether and celebrate gender creativity. It's not enough to let go of the misplaced hope for a 'good' or a better man. It's not enough to honor femininity. Both of these options might offer a momentary respite from the dangers of masculinity, but in the end, they only perpetuate a binary and the pressure that bears down when we live at different ends of the spectrum.

In envisioning new forms of masculinity beyond notions of the 'good man,' I inevitably return to my childhood. When I would fight with my younger brother, my dad would only defend me by telling him 'leave your brother alone, you know he's very sensitive.' Through repeatedly being admonished for being 'too sensitive,' I learned that reporting unfair or wrong treatment (often from a man) to an authority figure (also often a man) was a waste of time. It was always my fault for supposedly 'feeling too much' This was also how I learned to hate my emotions, to yearn to be a robot who would not reveal my weaknesses.

This praise highlights another problem with the idea of the 'good man.' The bar is ultimately a low one, and men are heralded every day for engaging in basic acts of domestic labor like washing dishes.

'good' is a nebulous standard. And our desire for something that can't really be measured outside of religious teachings and morality only sets us up for disappointment and sets up every gender for failure.

How might my relationships with these men have been different if I had not expected them to be 'good' or better than the other males I encountered? The pressure to be 'good' is not exclusive to one gender, nor is it applied equally to all genders. To be clear, the stress on girls to be 'good' far surpasses any stress men might feel to be 'good'.

Filled with outrage and sympathy after hearing these stories, the participants were often more receptive to engaging with the rest of the material. They more willingly reflected on their privlege and considered how they could be better allies. I've always been disturbed by this transition. By the reality that often the only way to capture someone's attention and to encourage them to recognize their own internal biases and to work to alter them, is to confront them with sensational stories of suffering. Why is my humanity only seen or cared about when I share the ways in which I've been victimized and violated?

I'm afraid of men not because of any singular encounter with a man. I'm afraid of men because of the cumulative damage caused by the everyday experiences I've recounted here, and by those untold, and by those I continue to face.

Although my experience with men in the past had often resulted in the dismissal of my boundaries, which only made me fortify them more, your genuine respect for my boundaries allows me to let my guard down.

This is because queerness is associated with freedom from boundaries. Thus, any boundary is inherently 'un-queer'.

Touching in gay bars is generally seen as an acceptable form of cruising and supposedly pushes against the repressiveness enforced by heterosexism. I've also witnessed gay men grabbing women's breasts many times on the dance floor. When asked to stop some have responded 'don't worry, I'm gay! I'm not into girls' Not being into girls, however, is sometimes less about sexual preference and more about disdain. Is grabbing women's breasts a way to make women feel unsafe, and therefore keep them out of gay bars?

I'm also afraid of the ways in which the threat of violence from men has shaped or even damaged my sexuality. How many sexual desires and fantasies are formed out of potential or actual male violence? Or rather, to what extent is sexuality shaped and constrained by childhood experiences of male violence? What might desire feel like if the construction of sexuality didn't take place in tandem with childhood experiences of violence from men?

My fear of men is a fuel that both protects my body as a survival instinct and erodes it from overuse. 

Exclamation marks soften my message, modify my tone so that my words convey the requisite submissiveness to communicate effectively with a man, to avoid agitating or offending him. I'm not allowed to be assertive or direct. 

When I walk to lunch and hear a man walking behind me, I move to the edge of the sidewalk so that he can pass. I used to speed up, but no matter how much I quickened my stride, I couldn't escape my anxiety. Men tend to drag their feet on the concrete, asserting their presence both spatially and sonically. But when I check over my shoulder, no one's there. I've grown fearful of any rustle behind me.

I'm afraid of men because it was men who taught me fear. I'm afraid of men because it was men who taught me to fear the word 'girl' by turning it into a weapon they used to hurt me. I'm afraid of men because it was men who taught me to hate and eventually destroy, my femininity. 

"I know that many men, and even women, are afraid and angry when women do speak. Because in this barbaric society, when women speak truly, they speak subversively. They can't help it. If you're underneath, if you're kept down, you break out, you subvert. We are volcanos. When we women offer our experience as our truth, as human truth, all the maps change. There are new mountains."

Stas

But your fear is not only hurting me, it's hurting you, limiting you from being everything you could be. Consider how often you have dismissed your own appearance, behaviours, emotions, and aspirations for being too feminine or masculine. What might your life be if you didn't impose these designations on yourself, let alone on me? What if you were to challenge yourself every time you feel afraid of me -and all of us who are pushing against gendered expectations and restrictions? What if you cherished us as archetypes of realized potential? What if you were to surrender to sublime possibility -yours and mine? Might you then free me at last of my fear, and of your own?

Why is my humanity only seen or cared about when I share the ways in which I have been victimized and violated?

My friendship with you marks the first time in my adult life when a man not only makes me feel that I can offer what I've chosen to offer, but also that it will be welcomed.

Although this exchange lasts less than a minute, you effectively jolt me back into my trained state of fear, my rightful place. Trans people aren't afforded the luxury of relaxing or being unguarded. Mere steps away from "the world's largest trans march," trans people are still seen as perverts who touch strangers at crosswalks.

What would my body look like if I didn't want affection from gay men and protection from straight men? What would my body look and feel like if I didn't have to mould it into both a shield and an ornament? How do I love a body that was never fully my own?

Maybe you would treat me too. Instead of asking me to fill out standardized forms where I list my ailments and shade in the parts of the human outline where I have pain, you would simply and sincerely offer, “I'm sorry."

I'M AFRAID OF MEN because it was men who taught me fear. 

incredibly precise in her analysis of misogyny in the everyday, the mundane. it felt wonderful to not only feel seen, but constantly be reminded of the ways “you” can be the aggressor. came at a particular time in my life where i am grateful to have read it at this moment. 

aisha

incredibly precise in her analysis of misogyny in the everyday, the mundane. it felt wonderful to not only feel seen, but constantly be reminded of the ways “you” can be the aggressor. came at a particular time in my life where i am grateful to have read it at this moment. 

read for gender, culture & media

eris

Jackie Cunningham

Some will be afraid of this book and that’s exactly why they - and you - should read it. It makes you think, it makes you nod in agreement and shake your head at the behaviour of some and most importantly forces you to consider yourself.

Ryan 

Syahla Aurel

I'm afraid of men because it was men who taught me fear

Midori Kobayashi

a very small yet powerful book with multiple impactful and thought-provoking questions surrounding the way society treats queer people and misogyny and unlearning all of it. altho the writing is a bit disjointed (which lead to a slightly not so pleasant reading experience) the subject matter is very intriguing and important to talk about!

Stef

Memilih buku ini random tertarik dengan blurbnya dan lagi nyari buku untuk dibaca buat challenge reading women. Buku tipis ini so powerfull written the struggle of women and people within LGBTQ community in world of toxic masculinity and social expectation in gender rule. How the trauma looks raw and real like me as reader following vivek experience. Recomend for everyone that want to know more about the issue that told from queer of color prespective. 


  " The common definition of misogyny is “the hatred of women.” Consequently, most men don’t think they’re misogynists, let alone think they have misogynist attitudes or engage in misogynist behaviours. Just as those who exhibit racist tendencies wouldn’t classify themselves as racist, few men would admit to hating women or believe they hate women.

Izza

Fraser Simons

Powerful and succinct. I think this works very well as an audiobook, as it’s narrated well and such a personal experience. 

Having just finished Nishga by Jordan Abel, this ties in well. It is unacceptable, and yet disturbingly necessary that everyone marginalized have to first perform their pain to be seen as human; otherwise subjected to incessant acts of dehumanization by people within the same room as them. But also in literature in general, and even more acutely in Canadian Literature, writ large. 

This short examination of the damaging way men are socialized shouldn’t be anything new. It should be terrifying to every man, and I think everyone has had an experience as disturbing as the author, in which their default state is to assert their own agency over someone else’s. How did we learn this? Where did we see this? The answer, in my opinion, is literally everywhere, all the time. Men should be afraid of men. As should everyone else. 

Internalized misogyny is a problem for everyone, but the people most in need of it being dismantled require the help of the people who society is built for. The only other threat I can think of is climate change. And I think it is just as—if not more than—dire a problem to confront; entangled in it. Solving this problem is as intersectional as it gets in humanity.

Nicki

It was short and sweet. Maybe if it was longer, I would've liked it more. Overall pretty solid.

Alexa Jade

what a shocking, sad read that is so beautifully written.

priya

"If we are invested in perpetuating and glorifying the myth of the "good man," we are also complicit in overlooking, if not permitting, the reprehensible behaviour of the "typical man."

Elizabeth Garza

This was such a great read. Short but impactful, and really gets the brain-cogs going about gender-identity and masculinity and femininity.

Jen Estrella

I have always been disturbed by this transition, by the reality that often the only way to capture someone’s attention and to encourage them to recognize their own internal biases (and to work to alter them) is to confront them with sensational stories of suffering. Why is my humanity only seen or cared about when I share the ways in which I have been victimized and violated?
Powerful read. It's always eye-opening, reading someone's lived experience of gender identity and having more stories that facilitate reflection. I was blown away by how Vivek articulated our tendency to categorize men as good OR bad, and pointed out the importance of challenging the behaviours of the "typical" man (or the baseline) instead of highlighting exceptions. We have to call out misogyny and celebrate femininity. We also have to be aware that as cisgender individuals, we continue to hold assumptions about people who identify as non-binary/genderqueer. Consciously or unconsciously, we make them fit gendered expectations and stereotypes, instead of viewing their experiences and struggles as unique/different. 

I wish this was a full memoir. Anyway, I am also including the quote below which I think is one of this book's important takeaways: 


  But your fear is not only hurting me, it's hurting you, limiting you from being everything you could be. Consider how often you have dismissed your own appearance, behaviours, emotions, and aspirations for being too feminine or masculine. What might your life be if you didn't impose these designations on yourself, let alone on me?

What if you were to challenge yourself every time you feel afraid of me—and all of us who are pushing against gendered expectations and restrictions? What if you cherished us as archetypes of realized potential? What if you were to surrender to sublime possibility—yours and mine? Might you then free me at last of my fear, and of your own?

Emir Andrés Ibañez

Este pequeño libro de no-ficción está escrito por una chica trans que, a través de anécdotas y reflexiones, explora la masculinidad que se le fue impuesta desde chica y cómo podríamos hacer hoy para cambiar eso. Me dejó carburando el cerebro.

Olivera Mitić

Hm, sam naslov je provokativan, ali I'm Afraid of Men nije dovoljno temeljan tekst, dok se istovremeno i suviše oslanja na jedno jako specifično lično iskustvo. 

Za ovako kratak narativ (koji u navratima više liči na TedTalk nego na bilo koju drugu formu) bilo je previše opštih mesta o temama sa kojima je Šrajina ciljna publika verovatno već upoznata. Sumnjam da prosečna osoba kojoj ova knjiga privuče pažnju do sada nije naišla na dekonstrukciju koncepata mizoginije, maskuliniteta i mikro-agresija iz svakodnevnog života, ali čak i da to nije slučaj, ovo nije najsjajniji uvod u datu problematiku. S druge strane, autorka je i sama malo kontradiktorna i mizogina, pa deluje da ni njoj nije najjasnije sve ono čemu želi da nas poduči.

Ovo svakako nije alfa i omega teorije roda, seksualnosti i trans iskustva, ali je interesantno ako ste željni toga da pročitate nešto pisano iz ove perspektive.

b.andherbooks

"Why is my humanity only seen or cared about when I share the ways in which I have been victimized and violated?" 
Vivek Shraya, I'm Afraid of Men

A brief but powerful exploration of the masculinity forced on a trans musician as a child and how it continues to haunt her as an adult.
I found the call out to complicit women especially poignant.
Trans rights are human rights.

Amy Buckle

I became aware of I’m Afraid of Men when Jaz (@TravelsInFiction) listened to it as an audiobook and it piqued my interest. It’s an essay-cum-memoir from Vivek Shraya about her experiences with men as a trans woman. From the clothes she wears to the precautions she takes, this raw book will challenge gender as it is in our society now and make the reader reflect on the binary ideals we impose on everyone from birth and the implications that has on the rest of their lives. Shraya uses this to show the trauma she’s experienced, but also how she has triumphed and embraced her identity in a world so adamant to ignore it.

Listening to this an audiobook was such a good decision. It’s narrated by the author, so not only can you hear her words more deeply, but the power of what she’s saying is even more apparent. There were so many moments during this book that made me stop and really think about what Shraya was saying – how I’d experienced something in my own life, or how actually, I was part of the problem.

As a woman I can relate to being in uncomfortable situations with men and the sexual harassment and misogyny some of them seem to so casually throw around. However, as a cisgender (and white) woman, I can only imagine how much worse it could be for Shraya. Many of her accounts are heart-breaking and hard to listen to; often visceral but worded poetically and succinctly, it’s really hard not to feel impacted but also so moved by this book.

The hardest moment for me is towards the end when Shraya says that in actual fact she’s not just scared of men, but of women too. Of women who will stand aside and let men enact their tirade of hate and abuse and do nothing to help. That was hard to hear as a women, but also reiterates how much work still needs to be done to make everyone feel safe.

Obviously this book is borne out of one woman’s experience, so it’s not necessarily a reflection of everyone’s experience, however, it’s universally relatable and a great tool in order to confront your own internal bias and prejudice and recognise that we all can step up.

By using her personal experience to build an argument for all that is wrong with gender and toxic masculinity she makes a compelling case for why it frankly should be overhauled. I’m very glad I bought this audiobook because I will be listening to it again! And at just under an hour and a half of listening time, there’s really no excuse for everyone not to read this.

I'm Afraid of Men

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