Boys Do Cry

Feminism for Men

So today (16/02/2015), I heard it announced on the radio that suicide levels have reached an all new high, increasing 4% from last year. And the largest group of people committing suicide? Men. In fact one quarter of all deaths of males aged between 20 and 34 in England and Wales in 2013 were from suicide.

Now, this seems off topic from my title, (which I’m sure some of you have already groaned at) but let me explain where I’m going with this –

Toxic masculinity.

For those of you who don’t know toxic masculinity is defined as, “the socially-constructed attitudes that describe the masculine gender role as violent, unemotional, sexually aggressive, and so forth.”

Personally, I’m a proud raging feminist and I think that women throughout history have had it pretty shitty. Generally, this seems to be accepted as fact even by people who don’t accept the feminist label. And following this logic, one would expect suicide rates to be higher among women, right?

Wrong.

UK suicide rates of men are roughly 3.5 times higher than that of women.

But why?

In an ideal world, where gender equality was a reality, although not eradicated, the suicide rate for men would be greatly reduced falling a lot closer to that of the female rate, because suicides due to gender would be reduced. (Gender related suicides don’t just include those of transgender individuals but simply the everyday pressure of gender stereotypes and pressures).

Out of the two genders men are more often than not viewed as the villainous sex; they’re more likely to be verbally or physically aggressive and sexually abusive. Obviously it’s only a small proportion of men who meet this branding or criteria and it’s an unfortunate label to live with.

As well as being given a bad name, there is an inherent expectation of men to be stronger than women – both physically and emotionally.

This belief undeniably leads to many men bottling up issues or feeling (until it eventually becomes too much).

On the other hand, women are known to talk a lot: always communicating and sharing. This sharing allows us to de-stress and let other people help us with our problems (“a problem shared is a problem halved.”)

ALSO – Sexism means that men are expected to be better than women: have a more demanding job, earn more money and complain less.

A lot of the time when a woman can’t deal with the stress of her job, she’ll go and see a friend, maybe have a bit of a cry and be able to look at the problem with fresh eyes in the morning. But what if a man had an emotional outburst? Well heavens no, that just wouldn’t do! The likely result would be an onslaught of gay and effeminate comments thrown his way.

It seems men are often forced down a route of appearing calm and collected on top, even if under the water they’re paddling like crazy and soon won’t be able to go fast enough.

Now obviously I’m casting some stereotypes and generalisations, but these need to be used to make the point.

The point being: men need feminism.

They need it just as much as women do, who knows, maybe more.

If gender equality was a reality then the pressure on men to outperform women would be erased.

Alongside this, mocking of emotions or feeling would become feeble (crying “like a girl” would no longer be a thing).

Last month I attended a debate about male rights activists, where some friends of mine made the glaring error of naming themselves feminist but saying that they did not support male rights activism, making me cringe internally.

Feminism is about supporting both genders and their rights equally, and to not acknowledge that men too need help, although for different reasons, is simply foolish.

So I guess what I’m asking you to take away from this is that men have it hard too; the figures don’t lie. So let’s try and end toxic masculinity by doing small things. If you see a man in tears, don’t tell him not to cry about it, even jokily, ask him if he wants to talk.

If you see a woman being abusive or violent, don’t let her get away for just because she’s female, call her out on it.

If a guys wearing make up to cover up acne scars or just to make himself look better, tell him that he looks good, not that he’s queer.

Simple things. Remember that an unequal society is unhealthy for all of us, because forgetting that Boys Do Cry, is detrimental.

– Melanie McAllister

It is not the ‘mentally unsound’, but the attitudes towards them, which are the real insanity

We may have done away with electroshock therapy and barred windows, commonplace lobotomies and female hysteria, yet the stigma encasing mental health is horrifically prevalent. Self-harm is mocked as a teenage cliché. Admitting to seeing a counsellor or therapist sounds ridiculous. Being ‘fucked up’ is alluring. Strait jackets are Halloween costumes. Akin to feminism, depression, and the entire umbrella of mental health, has become a dirty word.

The dictionary definition of depression reads “a mental state characterised by feelings of continual gloom and inadequacy.” Yet this description of a crippling illness has been disfigured. “I feel depressed”… because of (insert reason here: your text/that movie/the shop not stocking my favourite chocolate) has become commonplace in our language and thus confuses menial sadness/disappointment with genuine melancholy (which is then greeted with the obligatory “you’re being… dramatic/attention seeking/grumpy”).

Ignorance and definition abuse are not the only problem with society’s misconception of mental health. It seems engrained in our culture that physical ailments are far more important and severe than any illness associated with the mind. Are we, as human beings, still stupid enough to believe that if we cannot see it, then something fails to exist? Perhaps I am going too far but I am almost certain that if I went to A&E with a severe case of depression, I would not be treated as fast as the patient with the broken finger. After all, what is more urgent, a fractured digit or suicide? Mental illness, in many cases, can be a life threatening disease, yet is it treated in a similar manner to other terminal illnesses?

The taboo does not stop there, alongside the lacerating symptoms of a mental disorder, there is the shame and isolation which comes only too freely (woo!). Try talking to someone about the hurt and hopelessness you are experiencing, and often you will find awkward squirms, eye rolls with the silent sigh of ‘here she goes again, dramatic rant’ or the opinion that anything can be fixed with a can-do spirit and a plucky attitude: “Just think positively and all this will go away!”

One in four will be affected by a mental health issue in a year. Suicide is the most common killer of men under the age of 35. Over 80% of those with clinical depression are not receiving specific treatment. Society and the economy are ill-equipped to deal with such a disease (and look out – it’s on the rise!). I am well seasoned in doctors, physiatrists, psychotherapists and psychologists; both private and on the NHS. And in both sectors, I have experienced ridiculously long waiting lists, insensitive forms, inaccurate diagnoses and ill-trained staff; “do you mind if I record the session for my supervisor? Can you speak up a little; the camera isn’t detecting your voice?”, “watch your mother cry through a two-way mirror”, “your illness must be due to bereavement, change or relations with those around you.” – (this was then followed by a sense of guilt as the ‘reason’ behind the way I was feeling did not fit into any of those aforementioned boxes). Psychiatry may be a money-making scheme to prey on the vulnerable to fork out 80 pounds an hour to discuss a dream they can analyse themselves (thank you very much). And even if sessions are useful, the fact that demand exceeds supply is still very vivid. Being granted a mere 6 slots of one hour per week will not untangle a harrowing illness, it is a waste of the time for the patient and the professional. This is a long-term illness without a long-term solution. It is vital that the government re-think their approach to mental health. There are more sufferers than there are helpers. A victim of depression may not be able to wait 8 months for aid without causing severe harm, and this needs to end.

I do not mean this to be a long-winded and pessimistic rant of self-pity. But as someone who has been diagnosed, I feel I am entitled to speak my grievances. I do not know if a shorter waiting list would have prevented my dropping out of school. I do not know if an expert psychologist would have thwarted acts of self-harm. If I had not been persistently told that ‘it was all in my head’ or ‘to try harder’ then maybe my self-loathing would have decreased. Perhaps if my friends and family had been understanding, there to listen and to help, and generally educated in mental health, I would still be as disheartened and lost as I am today. But I am sure that the above would have acted as some sort of support or comfort; relieving if only a little bit of the hurt which depression patients find practically inescapable. And that assistance or reassurance can make all the difference.

Depression is not a clichéd, trite, insignificant drain on resources – it is an illness, just because it is inside the cranium does not make it any less cancerous, bloodied or agonising. And if you still think all this is merely off-your-rocker-round-the-bend-foolish-melodramatic-weak-coward-pull-yourself-together-madness, then it is not the ‘mentally unsound’, but the attitudes towards them, which are the real insanity.

Depression isn’t cool and pretty like ‘Girl Interrupted’ – it fucking sucks.

I believe that the glamorisation of mental illness/eating disorders/drug abuse etc. by the media has had an extremely damaging effect on the majority of young people, including myself.

A main example of this would be ‘skins’, the now discontinued channel 4 television series. Can I just add in now that I love skins more than any other TV show of that genre or time and if it was still running I would be in Bristol or wherever, begging to become part of the cast; but there is no use in denying that while watching it, we wanted to be the slightly more fucked up characters. We didn’t want to be Michelle, Sid or Pandora, we wanted to be Cassie, Effy and Cook.

Over summer, my 14 year old sister came asking me to do her eyeliner, so she could ‘be more like Effy’. And whilst I’d hope she meant it as wanting to be a bit more femme fatale or just the make-up, it worries me that young girls are potentially aspiring to be the tragic girl, the doe-eyed Marilyn. And this is not even just a British problem. In October, I went to Argentina for three weeks and the first thing most of the girls spoke to me about was ‘skins’ and how much they wanted ‘to be Effy or Cassie’. They wanted to be them, not just the parties and the clothes but their tragedy and vulnerability, and I know they wanted this because as a fifteen year old, I wanted it as well. I wanted to be ‘stressed, depressed but well-dressed’. I wanted to wear all black and talk to psychiatrists, hell I’m pretty sure I even wanted to get institutionalised. And why? Because the generation before us, made it look cool.

This isn’t even just restricted to ‘skins’ or girls. When Stephen Chbosky’s ‘The Perks of Being a Wallflower’ came out on film in 2012, it was showing the benefits of not having any friends and being on your own from the title of the book. Boys wanted to be Charlie because he got to kiss Emma Watson and girls wanted to be friends with him because Logan Lerman is attractive, whereas, honestly, in reality, I doubt anyone would even try talking to Charlie, the ‘socially awkward teen’ if he went to their school. Why are we continuing to idolise characters’ mental illnesses whilst still holding such a strong stigma against it?  We are part of a generation that is glamorising wanting to kill yourself and we’re not even addressing it.

As much as I used to love Tumblr, I doubt I’ve ever gone a minute on the site without seeing a post about being a ‘sad girl’ or ‘brxken’ or having an anorexic girl as their thinspo or a poetry written by an artsy teenager about how sad they are. And it becomes cool. If a tumblr famuz or American Apparel model reposts something about killing your lungs or being depressed or not eating and you already venerate them, you’re going to copy them and smoke more or act moody or upset more often or skip more meals.

Then when you feel happy, you feel guilty or uncool, like it’s cooler to be sad so you put yourself into the mind-set of feeling like shit which leads to actually feeling like shit. And sometimes you can get out of your rut easily, but sometimes you can’t.

I know first-hand what it’s like to suffer from something like this, so I don’t think I’m talking out of my arse too much, but yeah I used to think it was quite cool and then when I was diagnosed, it felt quite fucked up as I was thinking that it was my fault because I wanted to be like this and that was just another problem on top of everything else I was feeling at the time. It’s also really difficult to talk to people about how you feel when you’ve got depression anyway, so I always feel like a bit of a dick when I say ‘I’m depressed’ – like even writing that down just then made me feel like a twat – because due to this manipulation of mental illnesses by TV and films and social media, it’s appropriated these illnesses away from the fact that they are actually serious issues that aren’t being dealt with. This makes it harder to acknowledge that you’ve got something ‘wrong’ with you because, for me, I’m still pretty stuck in the idea that it’s not even real and I’m just being pathetic but yh idk.

And talking to psychiatrists and emotionally and mentally breaking down in front of teachers, school nurses and loved ones is not fun. It is not like ‘girl, interrupted’ or ‘the bell jar’. It fucking sucks. However, having said that, if I hadn’t have told anyone about how I was feeling, I am almost certain that I would be dead now. And I’d prefer to be struggling but kind of getting better than dead (so yeah if you feel like total shite, seriously, I sound like a safeguarding staff, but just go to a nurse or a teacher and tell them, it’s probably the hardest thing you will ever have to do but it is worth it in the long run).

And if you’re reading this thinking, which I really hope you’re not, ‘wow this girl’s amazing for being able to go through all that and still go to school and be nice to people, I wish I was like her’, then you obviously haven’t read the last 800 or so words properly. Just because I am relatively capable of conducting myself in a manner that makes it look like I’m coping with this and I’m still managing to turn up to barely half of my lessons, does not mean that I feel empowered or cool or proud or even happy for being able to cope with it. I will tell you again, reader: this is not something that we should be aspiring to be so stop it.

But yeah, in case you hadn’t noticed, because of my many digressions and little opening up sesh, the moral of the story is that: it’s so ok to be happy, it’s cool to be happy, please just start thinking more happy than sad and as feeling crap is crap and feeling great is great woooooooooo

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Ruby Streek (@burlybosoms) is a 16 year old girl currently in year 12. She’s an absolute lass/mess.