I call the new feminism Manolo Blahnik Feminism, which is a super-sexual, super-sexy, and super-confusing form of self-empowerment. Ariel Levy calls it “raunch culture” and I believe that it is going to blow up in American women’s faces.
I believe very strongly that there are too many dangerous contradictions in the new feminism, in the new American woman. And, what is to become of the more traditional American woman of Faith? And more importantly, what will become of us, the more traditional, American men of Faith?
I attended a panel on gender differences in the new feminism and my question to the panel was,
“I understand how empowering strappy stilettos, butt jeans, bare bellies, and camisole tops are for the modern woman. It is all about taking back the sex, taking back the gaze, reclaiming the control of what is cute, what is hot, what is sexy, it about taking back control, reclaiming feelings of pride in the body, pride in the shape and tan earned from an active, outdoorsy life. That’s all fine and good. Unfortunately, we men never got the memo. I never got the memo.”
In fact, I feel sort of like a fox in a henhouse. Why? Well, all of my old-world, unenlightened, seduction techniques work now better than ever! In fact, the truth is, I am really too nice for the Manolo Blahnik Feminist. In my recent dating life, I have been drawing the line in the dating sand too conservatively for many of my dates. The Manolo Blahnik Feminist wants to be taken, wants to find a real man, wants to take risks and have a great time; she pursues a doctrine of devil may care and she wants her man to be worthy of pursuit.
Well, no matter what the Manolo Blahnik Feminist thinks she wants and no matter what she thinks she’s doing, she is actually walking into a very dangerous trap. It is dangerous because it assumes that we men are good, generous, and stable men. Men who may be able to party, to drink, and to indulge in very passionate, very realistic sex-play while still maintaining a level of respect, of fair treatment, and composure that can guarantee that when no means no, no means no. That is a lot of responsibility to unload onto anyway, no less an unknown entity, a casual date, a new friend.
We men are not responding to this self-empowerment with amazement and respect, we’re responding to it by licking our lips, by taking advantage, by rubbing our hands together, and by trying not to jinx this out of being. We don’t want any responsibility either, it seems. We don’t want to feel like it is our responsibility to mind our Ps and Qs when we’re being pursued ourselves. We no longer have the muzzle on and we have shaken off the choke chain, and we men in general are not a save environment for this kind of soul-searching, this kind of self-empowerment. There, I said it: we men are not a safe environment for raunch culture. And we are taking advantage because we are pretty well convinced that what is happening won’t last: the Manolo Blahnik feminist fancies herself the aggressor, the buyer, the pursuer, the seducer. And we men are what she is after. All we see is, “man that girl is fine – I’d like some of that.”
What is our responsibility as men and women of Faith? What is my responsibility as a man of Faith? I know that many of my female friends are desperate, lonely, and discouraged by this seller’s market. I know that I am war-weary and deeply fatigued by this constant over stimulation, both visually and situationally. What can I expect from my relationships? How to I keep to the tiller and steer my ship straight and true? In my life, I have to not only consider the more pedestrian issued of sexually-transmitted diseases and pregnancy, but my principles, my conscience, my morals, my values, and ultimately my soul!
And it isn’t easy. As men in such a seller’s market, we don’t have to choose. If things don’t work out to our liking, we can just date another willing girl every night. We can push sex much faster than we ever could believe – than I could ever believe. The three-date rule now starts not on the first date but from the drunken night we first met at a bar. Oral sex on the first date has become de rigueur – that is, if you want a second date.
Instead of getting control, the Manolo Blahnik Feminist has relinquished control to us men. To men, women become fungible assets and women of faith become invisible, blending into the wallpaper. Not because they’re ugly – they’re beautiful – but because in a world of of bellies, of thighs, of knees, hip-huggers, butt jeans, padded bras and camisole tops, anything but the bling is effectively invisible.
And even worse, this is a very dangerous game. This kind of exciting, naughty, passionate, irresponsible, reckless indulgence in “raunch culture” is going to result in one hell of a cultural hangover.
Many women will be unable to recover from this self-indulgence with any semblance of faith, trust, hope, or intactness. And many men, too, will be unable to choose just one woman, be able to really and truly commit to marriage.
When it comes right down to it, what modern man or woman could be expected to have the right stuff to have faith in marriage, the family, and children after indulging in such self-destructive, self-loathing chaos?
Not I. And all of this is taken out of the context of faith. This is all from the point of view of people, relationships, self-empowerment, feminism, and sex – all very humanistic concerns. As a man of faith, I have to admit that all of this is very discouraging to me and all the men I know like me. But even I have to admit, I have become desensitized, I have become desperate, and I am sorely over-stimulated myself.
I am not sure if modern women have it very good. Not nearly as good as would be expected. I attended college at a high point for feminism an academia, when a woman would still identify with being a feminist.
Not any more.
(Ed Note: This article is a rework and extension of Manolo Blahnik Feminism: The Right to Choo’s)
