"He was one of those guys who'd pronounce
I'm a hugger as he came at you,
neglecting to ask if the feeling was mutual.”
[Gillian Flynn, "Gone Girl"]
I'm a hugger as he came at you,
neglecting to ask if the feeling was mutual.”
[Gillian Flynn, "Gone Girl"]
So, a while back, I was speaking at a public event. It was a very emotional experience. As it was winding up, one of the other speakers, someone I've known casually for a couple of years, approached me and asked if I was 'a hugger', and if it would be ok to hug me.
It was the first time someone ever asked me that question. And from the calm, friendly way in which he asked, it was abundantly clear to me that "no" was an acceptable answer to the question. It was up to me. It was merely an offer, and the decision was mine to make. I had all the agency. It was about respect. It was about personal space. It was about consent. And it was a strange new experience.
Many years ago, I remember crossing an airport to greet my friend Geoff. I reached to shake his hand. He wasn't having it. He grabbed me and pulled me in tight and gave me the biggest, best kind of bear hug. It was a long time ago, but I remember back then thinking it was awkward, such a public display of affection between men. 'They'll think we're gay,' I thought. And then, there in his arms, wrapped up as if in a big warm blanket, 'I don't care. Why should I? This is not wrong.'
From that day forward, I made a point of doing the same thing to other men. At every such opportunity, I would turn a handshake into a hug. I did it because I thought that, in the bigger picture, I was pushing back against homophobia and making a point that men should be free to express their feelings for one another. (Something which I've recently learned was common until the 20th century, and is still quite common in other parts of the world.) I wasn't aggressive like that with women, with whom I'm always very cautious about personal space and touching. (In my early 20s, the military was VERY clear about harassment policies to the point of making me paranoid.)
In the last number of years, particularly this past year with the #metoo movement, I've become even more self-aware with regards to the nature of my physical contact with people. But it wasn't until someone asked permission to hug me that I realized that while I was respecting the personal space of women, I wasn't respecting the personal space of men. I was forcing my ideas about appropriate expressions of affection on them. Maybe they're not all ok with it?
And in that moment when I was asked, I realized this. And I also realized something else that's quite important too.
This was just one of a number of small, odd encounters or questions or statements that have, over time, slowly brought me to a realization that I don't think most men of privilege understand: that feminism and the LBGTQ+ movement is, at its heart, about everyone. As a cis-gender, straight, white male, it's easy to stand on the outside looking in and think it's about women, or minorities, or gays and lesbians, and so on. That there's nothing in it "for me". The small-minded even go so far as to think it's somehow something being taken away from them. ('Rights are not pie. You won't get a smaller piece.') But being an ally does not have to be magnanimous, even for a cis, straight, white male. Notions of respect and fair treatment benefit everyone.
As an instructor at cadet camps in the last 80s/early 90s, in any given group of about 15 boys, there was almost always at least one kid that wasn't comfortable showering in those big public shower rooms with the other boys. They wanted to shower in a stall, or at a different time from the others. They were accustomed to more privacy than those big rooms, and for whatever reason, it made them feel very uncomfortable. Why? I didn't always know. I didn't care to know. I didn't need to know. As best we could, we'd make small adjustments to try to provide them that privacy. Really, it's not that big an accommodation to make. Nowadays, whenever the subject of change rooms and bathrooms comes up - usually within the context of gender-neutral facilities in public buildings - I always think back to that time, and try to point out that it doesn't really even have to be about gender, just about privacy, about an individual's right to have a little privacy, regardless what their reason might be.
Rights, respect, fair treatment: it's about everyone. Feminism is about fair treatment for all. If, that day, I wasn't ok with being hugged on that occasion, or by that person, or in general... the choice was mine. I was offered that agency. (By someone clearly a better feminist than me, but I'm learning.)
It was the first time someone ever asked me that question. And from the calm, friendly way in which he asked, it was abundantly clear to me that "no" was an acceptable answer to the question. It was up to me. It was merely an offer, and the decision was mine to make. I had all the agency. It was about respect. It was about personal space. It was about consent. And it was a strange new experience.
Many years ago, I remember crossing an airport to greet my friend Geoff. I reached to shake his hand. He wasn't having it. He grabbed me and pulled me in tight and gave me the biggest, best kind of bear hug. It was a long time ago, but I remember back then thinking it was awkward, such a public display of affection between men. 'They'll think we're gay,' I thought. And then, there in his arms, wrapped up as if in a big warm blanket, 'I don't care. Why should I? This is not wrong.'
From that day forward, I made a point of doing the same thing to other men. At every such opportunity, I would turn a handshake into a hug. I did it because I thought that, in the bigger picture, I was pushing back against homophobia and making a point that men should be free to express their feelings for one another. (Something which I've recently learned was common until the 20th century, and is still quite common in other parts of the world.) I wasn't aggressive like that with women, with whom I'm always very cautious about personal space and touching. (In my early 20s, the military was VERY clear about harassment policies to the point of making me paranoid.)
In the last number of years, particularly this past year with the #metoo movement, I've become even more self-aware with regards to the nature of my physical contact with people. But it wasn't until someone asked permission to hug me that I realized that while I was respecting the personal space of women, I wasn't respecting the personal space of men. I was forcing my ideas about appropriate expressions of affection on them. Maybe they're not all ok with it?
And in that moment when I was asked, I realized this. And I also realized something else that's quite important too.
This was just one of a number of small, odd encounters or questions or statements that have, over time, slowly brought me to a realization that I don't think most men of privilege understand: that feminism and the LBGTQ+ movement is, at its heart, about everyone. As a cis-gender, straight, white male, it's easy to stand on the outside looking in and think it's about women, or minorities, or gays and lesbians, and so on. That there's nothing in it "for me". The small-minded even go so far as to think it's somehow something being taken away from them. ('Rights are not pie. You won't get a smaller piece.') But being an ally does not have to be magnanimous, even for a cis, straight, white male. Notions of respect and fair treatment benefit everyone.
As an instructor at cadet camps in the last 80s/early 90s, in any given group of about 15 boys, there was almost always at least one kid that wasn't comfortable showering in those big public shower rooms with the other boys. They wanted to shower in a stall, or at a different time from the others. They were accustomed to more privacy than those big rooms, and for whatever reason, it made them feel very uncomfortable. Why? I didn't always know. I didn't care to know. I didn't need to know. As best we could, we'd make small adjustments to try to provide them that privacy. Really, it's not that big an accommodation to make. Nowadays, whenever the subject of change rooms and bathrooms comes up - usually within the context of gender-neutral facilities in public buildings - I always think back to that time, and try to point out that it doesn't really even have to be about gender, just about privacy, about an individual's right to have a little privacy, regardless what their reason might be.
Rights, respect, fair treatment: it's about everyone. Feminism is about fair treatment for all. If, that day, I wasn't ok with being hugged on that occasion, or by that person, or in general... the choice was mine. I was offered that agency. (By someone clearly a better feminist than me, but I'm learning.)
Yes, I am a hugger. Very much. Can't get enough. Seldom turn one away.
Yes, I happily accepted his hug.
In fact, I'd wanted to give him a 'thank you' hug for ages, but being so conscious these days about only hugging those who I think are comfortable with it, I just never knew how to approach it. I haven't yet found a graceful way to ask. (He made it seem so damn easy.) Instead, I find myself hugging fewer and fewer people, even some friends and family, unless they reach out first. I consider this unfortunate, but only until such time as we all learn each others' boundaries and how to respect them.
When we reach a place, as a society, where we can better, more openly, and more casually speak in terms of consent, not just sexual consent, but all forms of consent... after that, those who enjoy hugs can have them, those who don't won't have to endure them, and we can all live a little more comfortably and enjoy a little more mutual respect.
Yes, I happily accepted his hug.
In fact, I'd wanted to give him a 'thank you' hug for ages, but being so conscious these days about only hugging those who I think are comfortable with it, I just never knew how to approach it. I haven't yet found a graceful way to ask. (He made it seem so damn easy.) Instead, I find myself hugging fewer and fewer people, even some friends and family, unless they reach out first. I consider this unfortunate, but only until such time as we all learn each others' boundaries and how to respect them.
When we reach a place, as a society, where we can better, more openly, and more casually speak in terms of consent, not just sexual consent, but all forms of consent... after that, those who enjoy hugs can have them, those who don't won't have to endure them, and we can all live a little more comfortably and enjoy a little more mutual respect.
