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The (In)visible People in the Room: Men in Women's Studies


Peter Alilunas Men and Masculinities 2011 14: 210 originally published online 2 May 2011 DOI: 10.1177/1097184X11407047 The online version of this article can be found at: http://jmm.sagepub.com/content/14/2/210

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The (In)visible People in the Room: Men in Womens Studies


Peter Alilunas

Men and Masculinities 14(2) 210-229 The Author(s) 2011 Reprints and permission: sagepub.com/journalsPermissions.nav DOI: 10.1177/1097184X11407047 http://jmm.sagepub.com

Abstract Men who take Womens Studies classes often exist in a paradoxical space, the physical bearers of much that is discussed within the room while also the symbol of that which chooses not to participate. This status of (in)visibility, in which men find themselves simultaneously the most conspicuous and the most absent members of the discourse, has led to a situation in which feminist theorizing has not kept up with practical reality. In this article, part narrative and part critical examination, (in)visibility is analyzed as both a phenomenon and an opportunity for the discipline and the theory to move forward toward more productive coalition while keeping lived realities and experiences squarely in the forefront. Keywords Womens Studies, Masculinity, Gender
Why cant men do feminism, or at least be seen to support feminism? After all, feminism provides both men and women with an extraordinarily powerful analytic prism through which to understand their lives, and a political and moral imperative to transform the unequal conditions of those relationship. Michael Kimmel (1998, p. 60) It is difficult to avoid the conclusion that the very word feminism has become toxic in large parts of American culture. Toril Moi (2006, p. 1739)

University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, MI, USA Corresponding Author: Peter Alilunas, 6330 North Quad, Ann Arbor, MI 48109, USA Email: Alilunas@umich.edu

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Much has been written about men teaching Womens Studies classes. Male teachers have thoroughly documented their own experiences, discussing the challenges of such pedagogy.1 Much has also been written from a broader critical stance as to the legitimacy (or even possibility) of male feminism, from both female and male critics.2 Far less prevalent, yet equally important, are accounts of male student experiences within Womens Studies. If theoretical explorations of the validity of male participation have dominated the discussion, they have done so while male students interested in feminism have sought out classes and negotiated the practical realities.3 This has created a situation in which the small number of male students willing to venture into Womens Studies spaces become objects of paradoxical scrutiny. They are simultaneously the most visible and invisible presence in the room, the glaring representative of much that is discussed and debated within the classroom, and the conspicuous example of the absence of widespread male participation and interest in the field. Often the male student is, at once, anomaly and object of suspicion. This does not mean the male student is a victim, the recipient of unfair treatment, or immersed in a climate of hostility. In fact, I will conclude that this (in)visible status represents, for now, the best possible situation for men in the Womens Studies classroom. My own experiences as an undergraduate and graduate student in Womens Studies classes, as well as in those classes with strong connections to Womens Studies, may provide a contemporary example and effective case study. Ultimately I will also present some suggestions aimed at collapsing much of the tension surrounding mens participation in Womens Studies classroomssuggestions intended to stimulate discussion and reexamination of the stumbling blocks that continue to make male participation in Womens Studies classrooms such a divisive issue. My experiences within the paradoxical space of (in)visibility may add to the ongoing conversation and present a new perspective, that of the male student eager and willing to seek out solutions based in coalition amidst the ongoing debates about the viability and legitimacy of male feminism.

Raising Questions
My story begins in 2006, during my Masters program in Media Studies at a large research university. A pair of my female classmates (and now close friends) and I went out for lunch, during which the conversation turned to one of our classes, Feminist Television Criticism. One of them bluntly asked me: why do you call yourself a feminist? Variations on this question populate the literature on male feminism, and I have experienced such moments myself many times. Tom Digby describes the interaction as one laden with particular and consistent responses, especially from women in academic contexts, who tend to react with suspicion. If feminism is seen primarily as a source of empowerment for individual women, he writes, men claiming to be feminists are incomprehensible at best, and interlopers at worst (1998, p. 1). This quite accurately describes the encounter I had with my friends

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at the lunch: open about their questions (and, indeed, suspicions), they probed at both my presence in the class as well as my claims of being a feminist. They did not do so with hostility, but with a genuine interest in understanding my perspective and hearing my explanation. The question is not unwarranted, and should be expected and, I believe, even welcomed by men interested in taking Womens Studies classes. Yet, the questioner in such encounters should be prepared for a variety of answers, from a sort of feminist agnosticism to outright skepticism. Part of the purpose of the university is exploration and education, after all, and that process can often be neutral in ways that make ideological subject matters uncomfortable. Given the real-world stakes of feminist theory, a tendency toward urgency and conversion can circulate within Womens Studies classrooms, resulting in the pressure of a more committed than thou attitude and reluctances toward public disagreement. Participation does not always equal belief or even desire. We do not expect every student in the Chemistry classroom to commit to a career in the discipline, yet a cultural belief seems to exist that any person willing to enroll in a Womens Studies course must, by default, be fully committed even before beginning study. My own answers at that lunch stem from experiences stretching further into the past, prior to my participation in any formal academic setting. My upbringing and family history may have inspired my interest in gender studies and feminism, but not deliberately. Conservative, fundamentalist Christianity defined my parents worldview during my childhood, and as such my development could not have been more distanced from feminist ideology or politics. As I grew into adulthood, I began to question many of the tenets and beliefs I had been taught, particularly those related to men and women and the notions of appropriate behavior. I began to sense in my own relationships with women, and in my general observations of the world, that there was an incontrovertible and disturbing inequity embedded in efforts to keep men and women in traditional roles. These efforts, I came to understand, really just kept men in positions of power over women, justified through arbitrary and contradictory evidence based mostly in religious dogma. Long before I studied feminist theory or explored the sophisticated cultural mechanisms through which such disparities are manufactured and reinforced, I recognized one, simple, inarguable truth: sexism is unfair. This may not be the most illuminating or sophisticated insight, but for many men it certainly represents a first step toward a deeper and more nuanced awareness of the need for change. Most importantly, this sort of moment encapsulates the critical insight that privilege exists. In a culture devoted almost incessantly to reifying gender difference, and stabilizing the male right to the privileges that have been manufactured and defended without logic, this moment of recognition must be considered one of crucial importance. For me, it represented an irreconcilable turning point. Following that awareness, however, and as is common for many men in similar circumstances, came frustration. I had done nothing to earn the cultural privileges associated with being a heterosexual white man, yet found myself in a position in which I could see no way to disengage from them; after all, I could not stop

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being straight, white, or male. Thus it made complete sense to become a supporter of womens political causes and make small, realistic changes in my daily life and relationships, and at the very least try to find small moments of introspection regarding my straight, white, male privilege and how I interacted with women, as well as other men. This made me feel like a good liberal, an apparently enlightened man who supported women, expressed displeasure with the cultural pressures to be manly, and attempted to be aware of moments of unearned privilege. This phenomenon of being a good liberal man is one that seems prevalent throughout segments of contemporary American culture, particularly in academic settings. Such an attitude is, at best, deliberately vague, existing within some liminal space in which no real chances have to be taken, no privileges surrendered, and no additional labor required. Merely vocalizing support for womens political causes, expressing disgust for hypermasculinity, and having an understanding of basic feminist rhetoric, it seems, are often enough for average enlightened men to feel better about issues related to gender disparity and sexism, and to feel like they are making a difference. Such attitudes certainly represent a step forward from previous eras when few men would acknowledge any of these elements, or connect them with feminism. Yet it is difficult to see any actual work being done toward anything other than simple verbal agreement and basic support of feminist political goals that are little more than common sense, despite the constant and continual conservative efforts to undermine them. As Wade Edwards argues, this kind of feminism . . . does little to rearrange the constructs of power that keep men in positions of privilege (2008, p. 153). As Michael Kimmel suggests, this sort of feminist behavior is extremely convenient for men since it presents few, if any, dramatic consequences. Even men who claim to be feminists always have the option of choosing when and how to enact those beliefs, in what contexts, or to drop or hide them in moments of inconvenience. We can always retreat if the going gets tough or dangerous. This would be especially true for heterosexual white men, who slide seemingly without effort, into the arenas of privilege, which often remain invisible to those who have it (1998, p. 62). Thus questions linger: What efforts are being made by men to examine their own unearned status beyond vague liberal support? What beliefs are being disrupted and questioned in order to realize fully the feminist goals of equality and justice for women? What power structures and mechanisms are being interrogated and opposed for those goals to progress? Behind such superficial support, ironically, may be the cultural changes that have occurred since the second wave of feminism (and other sociopolitical movements such as gay and civil rights) forced open discussions on equality and justice for women. Those changes have created a cultural environment in which diversity and equality have become historical accomplishments somewhere in the past, able to be supported without any effort or labor, once again taken for granted as a given as part of a post-feminist society. Yet once hard work is required, in which cultural power structures must be examined and dismantled as part of the ongoing efforts of those sociopolitical movements that are still very much alive and

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necessary, the retreat described by Kimmel begins to occur, silently and without any widespread accountability. This has created a contradictory situation in which equality has become a common sense political belief across virtually all ideological boundaries even as proclaiming oneself a feminist continues to be taboo.4 Kimmel describes the situation in similar terms: Although most American men remain, at best, indifferent, and, at worst, openly hostile, to the term feminism, and especially dismissive of the term feminist, it is also the case that most men support every single element in what we might call a feminist political and social policy agenda when its elements are disaggregated and presented as simple policy options (p. 61). Thus the contradiction: some, albeit often superficial, support seems to exist for everything feminism stands forand yet without its name. That distinction is critical for understanding why more men do not seek out Womens Studies classes and also why those that do often end up in the paradoxical (in)visible position, since it is an almost universal cultural assumption that men would have no interest in overtly aligning with feminist politics, regardless of their stance on individual (and often vague) political issues. My own experience conforms to this description. Prior to my time as a student I would not have thought to consider myself a feminist. Feminism as an identity seemed an anachronistic relic, something lingering on even though the primary battles had been won in the past. I considered myself an enlightened, supportive, good liberal in favor of womens rights, which I thought were mostly an accomplished political goal interrupted by resistant conservatives and the occasional disturbing sexist media representation. When I entered university these beliefs began to change as my interests in gender and sexuality increased. I pursued film studies, seeing cinema as a continual site of potential analysis related to these interests. The long and critical importance of feminist theory to film studies was an immediate discovery, and, for the first time, I began to see that good liberal beliefs were insufficient to understand the nuances of the subject. My introduction to feminist theory occurred in introductory film theory classes, which frequently offer units on the topic. The overwhelming response to my interest, which manifested in my class presentations and term papers, was silence. My early instructors recognized and supported my eagerness to learn, but with layers of what I now unmistakably recognize as a belief that I was nave and unprepared for the eventual shock of discovery that men dont do feminism. Other students were also silent or, when they did talk with me, confused at my interest in studying feminist issues. Digby describes his own, similar experiences: With women its as if I had just announced that I like to wear fuzzy animal slippers, while with men, its as if I had just said that I am a turnip (1998, p. 1). In other words, he suggests, many women consider male feminists to bear a diminished or suspect masculinity, while other men typically just find them crazy. I certainly found this to be true in my case. Most other students simply did not understand why a manand, as will become increasingly critical, a straight manwould have any interest in studying what are perceived to be womens issues.

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Most people I encountered seemed to presume that I was in the middle of a scholastic phase that would soon pass, that I was an academic tourist temporarily visiting in the womens section of the university and would eventually retreat to more traditional and understandable territory, having wised up to the practical, silent reality of academia. My parents, too, registered confusion, and clearly preferred to avoid the topic rather than engage in awkward discussion. My partner, always a supporter and ally to all of my academic interests, and herself a graduate student doing research on gender and language, initially questioned me not because of the ideological implications, which she fully understood given our shared political beliefs, but rather because of the practical reality of a straight man studying feminism. She suggested repeatedly that I would increasingly stand out in these environments, be the anomaly in an unfamiliar and not necessarily friendly territory, and have to deal eventually with entering the job market. At that point in my academic journey it did not seem strange to me that a man would be interested in feminist theory; was it not a legitimate pursuit? Did it not offer a valuable course of study to someone interested in understanding the cultural creation of gender and sexuality, and the accompanying power structures? I forged ahead, thinking the best course of action was to ignore the swirling debates and treat the subject like any other, persisting in my goal of learning the discipline and applying it to my work in film studies. I have since come to understand, of course, that my attitude at the time was a perfect example of the need for those debates, and yet it was also probably a natural progression for any male undergraduate interested in feminist study. Entering a Womens Studies classroom for the first time was deeply intimidating: I was the only male person in the room, surrounded by female students looking at me with a mix of confusion and suspicion. Some of them, I imagine, might have been thinking I had the wrong classroom and would realize it, get up, and leave. The instructor, too, hesitated for a moment upon entering the room, and a brief look of confusion crossed her face. I felt a mix of emotions: the desire to crawl under my desk, to leave, to remain completely still and silent for the rest of the term, but also a desire to gain confidence and participate. As the course progressed, and the readings about patriarchy, female oppression, and male domination ensued, such feelings intensified. Kimmel notes that Womens Studies classes typically have only one or two men . . . and they spend much their time cringing defensively in the corner, feeling blamed for the collective sins of two millennia of patriarchal oppression (1998, p. 57). I would not say I felt blamed in the way Kimmel describes, and certainly my classmates did not make me the object of such criticism, but I definitely felt conspicuous and always in a position of (in)visibility, always somewhere between sticking out like a sore thumb and completely hidden. The consequence of this first foray into the Womens Studies classroom was that my attitude of simply walking in and treating it like any other subject collapsed. Actually sitting in the room, participating in the discussions, and seeing the physical space made clear the long history men have of reenacting and recreating patriarchal behavior, as well as the reasons behind the reluctance the discipline has had for male

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entrance. My presence in the room, regardless of my motives, sincere interest, and willingness to learn was accompanied by layers of discourse far outside my control, choice, or behavior. Beth Berila notes that male interest in Womens Studies may appear to be another form of male privilege, with men finagling their way into the only branch of scholarship that has consistently focused on women. If theres a sudden influx of male students into our courses, Womens Studies faculty may worry that female students who have experienced the classroom as a safe space for women will lose that space (2005, p. 34). However much my respect for the material and my classmates may have been present, there is still no doubt that my status as a male person disrupted and altered the potential for such a space and changed the trajectory of the course. Given the connections between Womens Studies, post-structuralism, queer theory, and gender studies, an underlying, unspoken irony circulates within this situation. While scholars such as Judith Butler and Judith Halberstam have eloquently deconstructed the notion of any essential connection between gender and sex, and, indeed, described the performativity of both, the practical reality of the Womens Studies classroom still holds to many deep-seated beliefs and assumptions about the essentialization of masculinity to men.5 Patrick Hopkins, relating his own experiences as a male Womens Studies student, writes that, For the first time, simply being the kind of body I was made me masculineindeed too masculine. Whether interpreted biologically or as an unavoidable social construction, my maleness of being a man was assumed to be central to who I was, how I would think, and constitutive of where my energy would go (1998, p. 39). I encountered a similar, consistent trend throughout my experiences as an undergraduate. While never overtly or deliberately, there nevertheless seemed to be a pervasive assumption that I would speak for all men, be an expert on masculinity, or be an exemplar of typical male attitudes and behaviors. I often found myself aligned with men and masculinity even when I did not do so deliberately. Even those female students, early in my academic experience, who were open to my presence seemed to retain traces of suspicion, seemingly presuming that at any moment I might revert to some more stereotypical form of male masculinity or provide proof of the incontrovertibility of patriarchy that must be hiding under the surface. My body, it seemed, presupposed what my attitudes or opinions would be, as well as automatically deciding both my experiential background and my subject position. This presented another paradox to me: if feminism, as Hopkins has pointed out, has thoroughly debunked the notion that experience or subject positionboth essentialist markerscreates an authentic feminism, then why was I (and, by proxy, all men) being held to that standard, even when our class readings and discussions contradicted such an approach at every turn? Furthermore, why was my sex (male) being taken as evidence of an apparent set of gendered characteristics (masculine)? As Hopkins writes, What makes a feminist is belief, action, and position, not the subjective assessment of ones experience combined with a revelatory appreciation of ones objective gender identity (1998, pp. 47-51). Yet, while a theoretical

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argument such as this makes logical sense, and is easy to turn to in moments of frustration, I hesitated in its belief when I would look around the classroom and see the women around me, contending with different cultural pressures and expectations in their lives than my own, with all its inherent and unearned privilege and status. Subject position, in other words, does matter when moving beyond theorys pages and into the classrooms (and the worlds) realities. The more I progressed in my undergraduate education, the more such questions and scenarios presented themselves. The first few meetings I had with my eventual mentor, an established feminist media studies professor, might best be described as awkward. She was wary of my interest in feminism, concerned that I was not entirely aware of the long and detailed history of feminism in both the academic and the political spheres, and unprepared for serious study. We undertook an independent reading course in which I read selections of feminist theory and history and worked through my questions. It was in these invaluable sessions that I finally began to understand the difficult and potentially irresolvable complexity of being both male and feminist. For the first time I encountered Tania Modleskis insight that we need to consider the extent to which male power is actually consolidated through cycles of crisis and resolution, whereby men ultimately deal with the threat of female power by incorporating it (1991, p. 7). This was an invaluable discovery, as it showed me the need to recognize the internal and silent power structures governing mens participation in feminism. It was also the first time I began to think about the necessity of maintaining a self-directed analysis, to be constantly aware of my interests and motivations, as well as the greater ramifications they might have in the classroom and with my colleagues. And, once again, it reminded me of the systematic ways in which male privilege is maintained and recycled, always in new guises but with the same potential outcomes. Like many feminist instructors encountering men in their classes, my mentor realized the legitimacy of my interest, and that I genuinely believed in feminist theory and practice, was not an interloper or skeptic interested in disruption or antagonism, or bearing an arrogant attitude bent on reclaiming space. Frequently, it has been my sense that the complications surrounding the male presence in Womens Studies classes, the discourses of viability and legitimacy, of whether or not men can be feminists, stand in the way of the reality of many men wanting (to a wide variety of degrees) to participate and learn. As I will explore further, this has a double-sided outcome: on one hand, it allows for a safe space in which women can explore feminist history and theory without the problematic intervention and disruption of inquisitiveand, occasionally, potentially hostilemen; on the other hand, it creates what Ross Wantland has described as a womens studies classroom committed to changing only half the society (2005, p. 161). My observation is not meant to take away from the importance of these spaces for women, only to inquire as to the greater cultural purpose of Womens Studies and to question the long-term strategy of the discipline. The other revelation that occurred during my undergraduate study was the cultural connection between sexuality and feminism, one that is critically important

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for understanding the contemporary climate for men in Womens Studies. The more my work incorporated feminist theory, the more people assumed I was gay. In fact, this reaction has become so common as to create a moment of surprise when colleagues learn that I am a straight man and in a committed relationship with a woman. Many people, even after this revelation, still believe I am questioning my sexuality simply because of my feminist academic interests.6 Kimmel describes his own reaction to this commonality: Why would some people believe that supporting feminism is somehow a revelation of sexual orientation? I offer no clues to my sexuality in my lectures or in my writing, no references to the gender of a friend, partner, or lover. All I do is agree with women that inequality based on gender is wrong, and that women and men should be equal in both the public and the private spheres (1998, p. 60). The reasoning stems, somewhat, from reality: the overwhelming majority of men I have encountered in Womens Studies classes are openly gay. Yet the reasoning also persists with people who have never been in a Womens Studies classroom because cultural definitions of hegemonic masculinity preclude homosexuality from legitimacy in much the same way feminism has been denied. As Raewyn Connell argues, from the point of view of hegemonic masculinity, gayness is easily assimilated to femininity (2005, pp. 37, 78). Thus, the connection persists that men interested in feminism must also be feminine, and thus (as the stereotype dictates) gay; or, as Kimmel writes of the stereotype, Any man who supports feminism cannot be a real man, hence he must be gay. Thus does internalized homophobia often keep men from supporting feminism (1998, p. 66). Heterosexual men invested in avoiding anything that might be culturally understood as questioning their manliness would probably consider a Womens Studies class the last possible option when looking through a course listing; the heteronormative implication is that they will be perceived as gayby both men and women. In a multitude of unexpected ways, then, Toril Mois statement about the toxicity of the word feminism that serves as this essays epigraph continually proves to be true. Hegemonic male masculinity currently has little room for delving into a discipline antithetical to its interest in stabilizing heteronormativity. While no concrete statistics exist for mens participation in Womens Studies classes, I would speculate, based on my own experiences and anecdotes from friends and colleagues at various universities, that the overwhelming majority of male students who do enroll in such classes identify as gay; the outcome being that the participation and education of straight-identifying men is almost completely absent. This creates an odd academic vacuum in which heterosexual male behavior is discussed, analyzed, critiqued, and made the focus of much critical attentionall while few, if any, heterosexual men are present to learn from or contribute to the discussion. Thus, the stereotype that only gay men take Womens Studies classes continues just as that very scenario plays out in the classroom, perpetuating a cycle leaving little space for coalition and dialogue. Having encountered these various phenomena throughout my own undergraduate education, I found myself in a somewhat confusing position as it came to an end.

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I was simultaneously much farther along in my development as a scholar immersed in feminist theory, attuned to the historical struggles and academic developments in the field, and yet even more confused as to my place in the discipline. As I neared graduation, my focus began to change. Sensing that my own internal struggles were indicative of larger issues, I foregrounded them in my work, moving away from feminist histories and analyses of womens issues to study male masculinity, cultural constructions of hegemonic manhood, and the ways in which film constructs and complicates these formulations. This move stemmed from my ongoing belief that mens participation in feminism should be one that does not stray from keeping the analytical lens pointed inward. As Jonathan Culler argues about even those men willing take apprenticeship roles in instructive positions of discipleship to women, the tradition of male hegemony is sufficiently strong that any man doing this may be suspected of trying to show women how to do feminism, so that the alleged justification may evaporate without taking effect (1994, p. 188). My move toward studying male masculinity, I suspect, is a common one with men interested in feminism but cautious about inadvertently becoming (or being seen as) interlopers.

Toward Answers
Entering graduate school presented new opportunities and also new challenges, mostly related to the increased level of seriousness such study requires. In relation to my interest in feminism, this means that the (in)visibility moments have been amplified even as my colleagues and professors have an immediate understanding of my dedication simply due to my presence and willingness to commit to such study. Venturing out of media studies into feminist-oriented courses in Sociology, Anthropology, Psychology, Womens Studies, Queer Studies, and English departments has again frequently meant being the only male person in the room, or one of only a few, and has again summoned the double-take moments on the first day of class, and the lingering, silent suspicions. It has also opened a more complete understanding of the complications of men participating in feminist study, even as willing disciples to female leaders and mentors. Gaining a more nuanced awareness of academia as an institution and committing myself to a career in the field has meant an exploration of the behind-the-scenes mechanics of the profession and has thus made me aware of the historical challenges faced by Womens Studies as university departments and of students and faculty trying to establish institutional legitimacy. Entering the classroom as a graduate student has given me a new appreciation for Kimmels argument that, to many women, men participating in Womens Studies opens a floodgate of historical tensions. No sooner do women get a foothold on a legitimate domain in the academy, he writes, than men rush in to a new growth area, displacing women and setting up shop (1998, p. 62). Surrounded almost entirely by female students, similarly on paths toward academic careers, I have been struck by the delicacy of my presence. Regardless of my sincerity and willingness to probe the nuances and complications of my

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male participation, perceptions and associations are equally important and cannot be dismissed simply in some idealistic, theoretical fashion. The equation male masculine patriarchal is one that has been utterly demolished by gender theory; yet, it persists both culturally, in the classroom, and in the discipline. If it did not, one could argue, special issues of journals and anthologies on the subject would be unnecessary, and the debate would located somewhere in the past, a relic of the journey toward coalition. Thus the questions continue. Working during my Masters program with a prominent feminist professor in a Sociology course, with only female classmates, the silent tensions that had been hovering since the first day finally emerged into the open midway through the term. The professor stopped the discussion, turned to me, and initiated a conversation about my presence. Initially I was frozen, feeling the (in)visibility simultaneously disintegrate and erupt with everyone watching. Yet as the brief discussion progressed I realized it was not only positive but necessary. The course was a graduate-level seminar designed to train feminist scholars, the vast majority of whom are women. My anomalous presence in the room was not something that could be ignored; indeed, it was something on everyones mind even as it remained silent the first few weeks. The professors decision to confront the (in)visibility, discuss it, and make it a layer of the class resulted in an extremely productive remainder of the term. My feelings and explanation were out in the open and the awkwardness was acknowledged. Yet, as I will probe further below, it did not eliminate the paradoxical (in)visibility, it merely acknowledged ita crucial difference that maintains the self-directed awareness I believe is required by male participants in Womens Studies classes. A similar moment occurred during the first year of my doctoral study. It occurred during a Queer Studies course, a discipline that has offered much to my work on constructions of male masculinity. During my final presentation on the scholarship examining straight men doing queer studies, I identified myself as heterosexual. As I had not explicitly done so all term, it was clear that some people (including the professor) were surprised at my statement. I felt no pressure or need to state my identity as a precursor to participation at the beginning, and did so only at the end as a means of connecting the research to my own work and to challenge some of the prevailing ideas about legitimation and validity (much as I have done so in this essay). Like many straight male students in Womens or Queer Studies classes, this moment of identification felt awkward to me and created some unease in the room; after all, we had just completed a term of study highlighting and exploring the myriad ways in which heterosexuality can foster and bolster heteronormativity and patriarchy. When I concluded, the professor offered a series of comments effectively asking me to defend and explain my presence in a room so decidedly critical of ideologies associated with straight male behavior. Once again, this moment struck me as curious (as well as deeply problematic), not only because we had spent much of the term breaking down essentialist gender and sexuality perspectives but also because I subscribe to Connells argument that

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one of the most important and productive strategies for interrogating and altering contemporary conceptions of hegemonic masculinity is through coalition between gay- and straight-identifying men (2005, p. 242). My journey toward accepting Connells proposal was not without resistance. Early in my academic development I strongly believed that straight men must initially work without such alliances to move forward toward cultural change. Hegemonic masculinity, I thought, cannot undergo thorough critique and lasting alteration if it does not come from within, and that coalition would not be lasting or fruitful if that early work and ownership did not happen. Yet Connells argument gained momentum with me as I realized that such isolationism can only result in further division. Such alliances run somewhat contrary to established historical and political practices: The familiar forms of radical politics rely on mobilizing solidarity around a shared interest (2005, p. 236). This is where my initial beliefs resided, in a unity among straight men toward change. Yet, as Connell, writes, solidarity will not work in this case. [T]he project of social justice in gender relations is directed against the interest [men] share. Broadly speaking, antisexist politics must be a source of disunity among men, not a source of solidarity (2005, p. 236). Understanding the historical tendency of male unity to gather and reinforce positions of power led me to see Connells greater point about the necessity of broader alliances. Ultimately, I recognized that this approach represents a way for straight men to interrogate and disrupt privilege: to seek coalition, to ask for help and leadership, and to avoid reinforcement of power are all ways in which coalition offers a chance for genuine change. This is by no means an easy task; men are culturally inculcated with a sense that masculinity is, in part, defined by leadership. The moment in the Queer Studies class offers an example of such difficulty. No one, particularly the professor, disagreed with my alignment with Connells argument for alliances, yet there was still a hesitation to see it literally enacted. Moving beyond the theoretical, in other words, ruptured the smooth surface of the classroom, which had clearly preferred to maintain some sort of illusion of stability. My sense of awkwardness and slight defensiveness during this post-presentation discussion (particularly given that it occurred in front of all my classmates and without time for me to prepare my response) made me aware of my own ongoing struggle to accept critique about my motives and presence, yet it also gave me a new understanding of the challenges facing the discipline. As is to be expected, I still retain traces of a culturally constructed belief that I should be trusted without suspicion and that my efforts should be recognized; this is undoubtedly a perspective common to men based in the privilege of being accepted in virtually any social or professional situation once the work has been established. At the same time, Womens Studies also seems to have a disciplinarily constructed belief that mens presence in the classroom must automatically engender suspicion, which again raises questions about its intended purpose and the ensuing political ramifications. That the discussion took place at all illustrates a critical problem within Womens Studies: by teaching the nuances of the sex/gender binary, but not always recognizing their complications

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in the classroom, the discipline runs the risk of further isolation from practical realities, all the while theoretically secure. Yet, I have increasingly come to the conclusion that such moments are not only helpful but also essential for the Womens Studies classroom. By confronting the paradoxical awkwardness at the heart of the male students presence in the room, not only can the issue be explored within the seminar, the silent undercurrents of power and privilege can also be made visible and broken apart. The anxiety on one side and the suspicion on the other can be brought out into the open and examined, revealed alongside the theory rather than hidden under it. My interest in encouraging this practice comes with potential complications. First, there is the immediate concern that the focus is once again placed on men, creating an implicit suggestion that mens issues must take a prominent position in the discussion. Related to this is the problem of legitimation. Mens awkwardness in feminism (and the institutional suspicion greeting them at the door) should be spotlighted and assuaged, such reasoning might go, as a means of ensuring that feminism can be taken more seriously in both the academic and the public spheres. Such discourses invoke a sexist approach that still believe only mens interests are valuable and worthy of serious discussion, and thus once men have interest in feminism it will be viable. I should be clear that my suggestion of making the (in)visibility an open part of the discussion has quite the opposite intention. While I acknowledge the unavoidable (and temporary) moments of centering male concerns within this approach, I also believe that the goal is not to place men in the center of the discussion but rather to highlight their position on a deliberate and necessary margin in the hope of moving beyond the anxiety/suspicion relationship and toward something more productive. An unintended outcome of a strategy of highlighting male (in)visibility in the Womens Studies classroom in order to reveal the tensions circulating beneath the surface might be to alleviate the accompanying awkwardness and discomfort male students experience. As with the previous concern, my intention is the opposite: rather than abating the (in)visibility, it might be more productive to identify and illuminate it as a means of discursive creation without a goal of elimination. Culler makes a similar argument when he suggests that if such discomfort prevents men from finding a comfortable position either in feminism of outside it, that seems to me neither surprising nor particularly regrettable (1994, p. 188). This argument encapsulates my own approach: rather than a negative, the awkwardness and paradoxical nature of (in)visibility is an immensely powerful tool for men interested in Womens Studies classes as well as for the other students and instructors. It keeps the male student focused on the historical (and ongoing) contextual tensions of mens complicity in patriarchy and sexism, even when, as Connell suggests, that complicity is unintended or even unwanted (2005, p. 79). It also keeps the notion of privilege squarely in the foreground by emphasizing its absence in the Womens Studies space, where male (in)visibility directly interrogates assumptions of silent, authorized male dominance in a cultural gender hierarchy. Ultimately, the Womens Studies classroom can still make men feel welcome and part of the conversation without

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eliminating this (in)visibility. Simply acknowledging its existence and bringing it into discourse at opportune times could go a long way toward breaking down the anxiety/suspicion relationship that seems to define the contemporary landscape. As I continue my academic journey toward a PhD and into a career, the questions that began my interests still hold true. New questions have joined them, such as my interest in why men seem reluctant to question their invisible privilege, even when their good liberal beliefs strongly support feminist goals and concerns. Applying this to film studies has meant an investigation into the cultural fantasies and images of gender that pervade popular cinema, and why a cultural reluctance to stray outside these boundaries seems to exist. My experiences in Womens Studies classrooms, in courses based around feminist theory, and in coalition with like-minded men and women have opened new avenues of exploration even as they have contextualized the difficulty and historical complications of such participation.

Conclusions
As my own narrative comes to a close, I would like to return to that lunch with my colleagues and offer my answers to them here as a series of suggestions for going forward. Why do I call myself a feminist? My answer to my colleagues that day at lunch is the same as it is now: because language matters. Some have argued, such as Kimmel, that men can be profeminist but not necessarily feminist. He suggests the profeminism is a position that acknowledges mens experience without privileging it (1998, p. 64). While I see the reasoning in this position, particularly in the invocation against privilege, I have concerns with the outcome. Labels matter, undoubtedly, but so does unequivocal support and actions, as does moving beyond claiming the word feminist and into daily, practical behavior. To diminish that support, even subtly, by disengaging and aligning into familiar, sexed groupings seems another way, ironically, for male privilege to sneak back in. This suggests to me an impassable division, which takes the discussion back to the larger questions I have raised throughout this essay: what is the purpose of Womens Studies and feminism more generally? Is it to create safe spaces for female students to gather and learn womens history and theory? Or is it to foster praxis that can lead to social justice, equality, and cultural change? Certainly it can be both, but if the latter is to be part of the strategy then I see a particular urgency in encouraging mens full participation, albeit from a supportive position following female leadership and with cautiousness that recognizes the historical tendencies for men to assume and appropriate authority. Without mens involvement, how can any hope exist for altering the imbalances that most benefit them? Thus, I see it as a simple and effective strategy to claim the word as an effort toward breaking down the divisions and separations and to announce a willingness to participate and learn within such alliances. In other words, any division, even linguistic, may tend only to reify the current situation, which seems to teeter continually on the verge of outright essentialism in the anxiety/ suspicion relationship I have outlined.

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At the same time, the importance of lived experience cannot be overstated. While theoretical explorations of the slippery, performative nature of gender (and its intersections with race, sexuality, class, and other identity markers) have been thoroughly documented, the practical reality is that women have a much different cultural experience than men. This is why arguments such as those made by Hopkins, who suggests that the core of feminism [should] be feminist positions, not womens experiences, seem rushed and preliminary, based around utopian desires that disregard the contemporary cultural climate (1998, p. 52). Even though Hopkins and I agree that men can (and should) be feminists, I hesitate to move beyond the historical contexts that have led to the debate. Male privilege has not yet been widely interrogated enough for a seamless, immediate transition away from the recognition of experience and subject position, much as they may be theoretically dismantled. (in)visibility disrupts male privilege among men who claim feminism (and for those who do not), which is precisely why I believe it to be such an effective and productive step on the path toward Hopkinss utopia. Yet a crucial part of that process is in the act of public claiming of feminism, which can clearly signal a commitment to that interrogation, to genuine dismantling rather than just good liberal support or an abrupt seizure of leadership and equality by men among feminist women. As Digby asks, Why would a man advocate change that is inimical to his own interest? (1998, p. 2). It is precisely that disjunctive moment that makes the claim so effective and potentially usefulnot just to the bearer of the claim but to other men who might also be interested but reluctant to take the next step. In an account of his own student experiences, Kyle Brillante argues that the problem is far greater and deeper than mens fears concerning the stigma of womens studies, or fears of being associated with the history and stereotypes womens studies and feminism conjure. Men do not exist in womens studies, except by way of entry through queer/race studies, because womens studies do not allow men to exist (2006, p. 10). If men are wary of taking Womens Studies classes, (in)visibility as I have described it will not necessarily help to sway them, which is to say that very few male students seem interested in enrolling in courses where they know they will feel out of place, uncomfortable, and even (as Kimmel suggests), blamed. Unless the phenomenon is pulled into the open, made part of the discourse, and used as an educative tool by faculty to foster discussion among students, it will continue to be a preventative force keeping many men away from moving beyond being good liberals to feminists interested in genuine critiques of male privilege and legitimate, lasting social equality. I see a critical difference between not existing (as Brillante describes it) and existing under certain conditions guided by an instructor and in a particular state of awareness and self-critique, highlighting practical realities and opening discursive space to explore cultural privilege. This last point is worth emphasizing. Cultural change cannot occur until more men make a move toward serious critique, and until that happens feminism can often seem very one-sided and disinterested in male participation. As bell hooks argues, Until men share equal responsibility for struggling to end sexism, feminist

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movement will reflect the very sexist contradictions we wish to eradicate (2000, p. 83). But how can the academy get men to take up that struggle? Kimmel has suggested framing the discussion with how men will benefit. Part of his strategy is to outline the difference between what men will gain and the illusion of what they already have, describing the approach as a challenge to that false sense of entitlement to . . . power in the first place (1998, p. 67). Kimmel has done illuminating and insightful work in this area, identifying the ways in which men feel besieged by a culture apparently determined to take away their power, even when those same men may not have any overt power or authority to be taken away; he refers to this as a wind chill phenomenon, noting that such reality may be offset by how men actually feel (2006, p. 218). If those feelings can be acknowledged and examined, his argument suggests, feminism may provide benefits to men by opening up an understanding of imbalances and expectations of power, and alleviating some of the burden of trying to live up to impossible standards. Nevertheless, garnering male interest through the idea of benefits to men (even configured through such a useful framework) raises questions that tread toward a fundamental contradiction. Even if those benefits, as Kimmel describes, lead to happier and healthier lives, with better relations with the women, men, and children in [mens] lives, it still frames the discourse from a perspective of what men will gain instead of what they will have to give up. While it may seem like a basic point, it is worth explicitly stating: fostering genuine equality will not require elevating women (as liberal feminism would like to believe), it will require dismantling male privilege and authority. How that can happen simultaneously with a discursive strategy of appealing to mens sense of cultural entitlement, by stressing the apparent benefits men will obtain, does not seem logical or practical. I would suggest it will lead only to a partial measure of success as it asks for nothing to be given up or challengedonly gained. It seems to me that such a strategy can lead only to an exacerbation of what I have described as good liberalism. This attitude recognizes all of Kimmels points without having to undergo a difficult and perhaps even painful examination of the privileges that all men hold, regardless of their social or financial standing. Inspiring mens feminist participation by suggesting they will have to interrogate and surrender privilege is, admittedly, an extremely difficult challenge; indeed, it may take much longer and with far slower growth than using a benefits-based strategy. Moving beyond academic interest into actual political practice may take even longer; given that so few men are willing to take Womens Studies courses it will take time and dedicated effort to increase extra-curricular activity. The stakes are obviously higher outside the classroom, which, despite the low numbers of male students, still offers some insulation from real-world beliefs and practices. Lisa Marie Hogeland writes, To stand opposed to your culture, to be critical of institutions, behaviors, discourseswhen it is so clearly not in your immediate interest to do soasks a lot of a young person, of any person (1994, p. 21). However, such a strategy does have one distinct advantage: the change will not be limited by a male

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belief in entitlement or the unspoken, culturally supported belief that men have natural, inherent leadership abilities. If I have been vague in describing the application of (in)visibility, that is somewhat deliberate. In part this is because its status as a vague interaction best described paradoxically has tremendous value as an awareness tool for the student. Thus, I mostly describe its presence as an application for male students to examine and internalize. The marginalized position in which (in)visibility places the male student is not a negative one; indeed, it merely exposes the actually invisible privilege other spaces (including those within academia) offer to men. As I have described, instructors can and should illuminate the phenomenon, draw it out and into conversation, and use it as a means of tying the readings and discussions into something with real-world ramifications. This is not to suggest that male students be highlighted and called to answer for their identity (as I was) or to redesign the course to accommodate male participation; rather, I mean simply to say that such discussions merely open up what is obvious and unspoken in most situations but has a great deal of political potential to foster coalition and dialogue. The point, as I have argued, is not to collapse the margin but to highlight and examine it. This process also offers the potential for a process of reevaluating the theory presented in Womens Studies classes as well. If the ways in which gender has been culturally constructed and reinforced have been thoroughly unpacked, such theory is rarely aimed squarely at the classroom. Perhaps (in)visibility suggests a way (among others that should be proposed) to take that very necessary step. Ultimately, my experience as a student in Womens Studies (and related courses) has taught me that owning up to privilege, interrogating cultural gender structures, and understanding feminist history and theory is not an easy undertaking for male students. That is not likely to change, nor do I believe it should. Neither invisible nor visible, the male student is positioned in a state of heightened awareness regarding the historical and ongoing contexts of the purposes of and need for feminist politics, as well as their own crucial role in affecting change. As bell hooks argues, Like women, men have been socialized to passively accept sexist ideology. While they need not blame themselves for accepting sexism, they must assume responsibility for eliminating it (2000, p. 73). While (in)visibility should not be a permanent strategy, it does represent a present reality for male students, and should be acknowledged, discussed, and made productive, pulled into discourse and turned into a pedagogical opportunity, not to mention a theoretical one that can inflect future feminist research. To do so represents a potentially effective means of coalition, an entry point in getting beyond the anxiety/suspicion relationship within the classroom, and a possible resolution of the lasting and ongoing tensions of male feminist viability. Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The author declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.

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Funding
The author received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.

Notes
1. See C. W. Heller, A Paradox of Silence: Reflections of a Man Who Teaches Womens Studies,: in Teaching What Youre Not: Identity Politics in Higher Education, ed. K. J. Mayberry (New York: New York University Press, 1996), 228-37; J. S. Johnson, No Middle Ground? Men Teaching Feminism, in Teaching What Youre Not: Identity Politics in Higher Education, ed. K. J. Mayberry (New York: New York University Press, 1996), 85-103; L. Kampf and D. Ohmann, Men in Womens Studies, in Against the Tide: Pro-Feminist Men in the United States 1776-1990: A Documentary History, ed. M. S. Kimmel and T. E. Mosmiller (Boston: Beacon Press), 389-93. 2. See R. Braidotti, Nomadic Subjects: Embodiment and Sexual Difference in Contemporary Feminist Theory (New York: Columbia University Press, 1994); S. Heath, Male Feminism, in Men in Feminism, ed. A. Jardin and P. Smith (New York: Routledge), 1-32. 3. I should note my terminology here at the start: while I use male and female, as well as men and women, throughout this article, I acknowledge the problematic nature of these terms. Male-bodied and female-bodied, as well as male-identified and female-identified are also useful yet incomplete descriptors, and further imply a binary understanding. While I do not subscribe to such a rigid binary (and think there are nearly infinite areas in between and across these terms), I nevertheless use men and women as a means of efficiently conveying the contemporary situation in the classroom, even though that situation is both complicated and complex. What is clear is that linguistics offers very little room to articulate the nuances of gender and sexuality, which is undoubtedly a reason many of the tensions I explore exist. In some ways my primary interest is in how those terms become attached to masculine and feminine.I should also further define my use of the term feminism, which I broadly mean here as the political practice of understanding (as well as disrupting and altering) the systems of power through which patriarchy organizes and reifies gendered relationships as a strategy of securing male supremacy. This article, unfortunately, does not have the space to articulate fully the term and its contexts, so my usage may appear bland. This is partially deliberate, as my primary interest is in describing the situation encountered by most male students familiar with only the most basic concepts. 4. While my focus here is on the taboo status of male feminism, extensive work has been done on why women also seem reluctant to take up the label. See J. Baumgardner and A. Richards, The Number One Question About Feminism, Feminist Studies 29 no. 2 (2003): 448-52; L. M. Hogeland, Fear of Feminism: Why Young Women Get the Willies, Ms (1994), 18-21; T. Moi, I Am Not a Feminist, But . . . : How Feminism Became the F-Word, PMLA 121, no. 5 (2006): 1735-41. 5. These would be, of course, just two examples of the detailed and rigorous work done in this area (which is far too immense to recount here completely). See J. Butler, Gender Trouble:

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Feminism and the Subversion of Identity (New York: Routledge, 1990); J. Halberstam, Female Masculinity (Durham: Duke University Press, 1998). 6. Much like my earlier explanation of the difficulty of avoiding the binary between men and women, I should also stress here that I do not subscribe to nor intend a similar binary regarding sexuality. My discussion here of my own sexuality, and the responses to it, is meant as a starting point on the discussion of assumptions and expectations regarding male feminism. Ironically, as some scholars have articulated, the discussion of the fluidity of sexuality (much like my experiences with feminism) often leaves out men who identify as heterosexual. See C. Thomas, Straight with a Twist: Queer Theory and the Subject of Heterosexuality (Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1999).

References
Baumgardner, J. and A. Richards. 2003. The Number One Question About Feminism, Feminist Studies 29 (2), 448-452. Berila, B., J. Keller, Camilla Krone, Jason Laker, and Ozzie Mayers. 2005. His Story/Her Story: A Dialogue About Including Men and Masculinities in the Womens Studies Curriculum, Feminist Teacher 16 (1), 34-52. Braidotti, R. 1994. Nomadic Subjects: Embodiment and Sexual Difference in Contemporary Feminist Theory. New York: Columbia University Press. Butler, J. 1990. Gender Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity. New York: Routledge. Connell, R. 2005. Masculinities. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press. Culler, J. 1994. Five Propositions on the Future of Men in Feminism. In Men Writing the Feminine: Literature, Theory, and the Question of Genders, edited by T. E. Morgan, 187-188. Albany, NY; State University of New York Press. Digby, T. 1998. Introduction. In Men Doing Feminism, edited by T. Digby, 1-16. New York: Routledge. Edwards, W. 2008. Teaching Women with a Y-Chromosome, Feminist Teacher 18 (2), 145-159. Halberstam, J. 1998. Female Masculinity. Durham: Duke University Press. Heath, S. 1987. Male Feminism, Men in Feminism, edited by A. Jardin and P. Smith, 1-32. New York: Routledge. Heller, C. W. 1996. A Paradox of Silence: Reflections of a Man Who Teaches Womens Studies. In Teaching What Youre Not: Identity Politics in Higher Education, edited by K. J. Mayberry, 228-237. New York: New York University Press. Hogeland, L. M. 1994. Fear of Feminism: Why Young Women Get the Willies, Ms, 18-21. hooks, b. 2000. Feminist Theory: From Margin to Center. Cambridge, MA: South End Press. Hopkins, P. D. 1998. How Feminism Made a Man Out of Me: The Proper Subject of Feminism and the Problem of Men. In Men Doing Feminism, edited by T. Digby,33-56. New York: Routledge. Johnson, J. S. 1996. No Middle Ground? Men Teaching Feminism, In Teaching What Youre Not: Identity Politics in Higher Education, edited by K. J. Mayberry, 85-103. New York: New York University Press.

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Kampf, L. and D. Ohmann. 1983. Men in Womens Studies. In Against the Tide: Pro-Feminist Men in the United States 1776-1990: A Documentary History, edited by M. S. Kimmel and T. E. Mosmiller, 389-393. Boston: Beacon Press. Kimmel, M. 1998. Whos Afraid of Men Doing Feminism? In Men Doing Feminism, edited by T. Digby, 57-68. New York: Routledge. Kimmel, M. S. 2006. Manhood in America: A Cultural History. New York: Oxford University Press. Modleski, T. 1991. Feminism Without Women: Culture and Criticism in a Postfeminist Age. New York: Routledge. Moi, T. 2006. I Am Not a Feminist, But . . . : How Feminism Became the F-Word, PMLA 121 (5), 1735-1741. Thomas, C. 1999. Straight with a Twist: Queer Theory and the Subject of Heterosexuality. Chicago: University of Illinois Press. Wantland, R. 2005. Feminist Frat Boys?: Fraternity Men in the (Womens Studies) House. NWSA Journal 17 (2), 156-163.

Bio
Peter Alilunas is a doctoral candidate at the University of Michigan in the Department of Screen Arts & Cultures. His primary research is in the cultural and technological transformation of pornography from celluloid to home video in the 1980s. He also continues to have an interest in the mediated constructions of male masculinity.

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