If you see an article about the men's group phenomenon in a magazine or newspaper there's a good chance it will be disparaging rather than positive. Such pieces usually adopt a sneering, superior tone, basically deriding men in men's groups for being a bunch of socially inadequate wimps content to spend their time in futile navel-gazing or drum-banging. The message is that no ordinary, well-adjusted male would wish or need to go anywhere near such a thing.
Take journalist David Bowker, for example, writing in a recent issue of Arena. He describes members of men's groups as 'the kind of men who, in their teens, were smothered by girls and punched in the face by boys. None of them is the kind of person I'd choose to discuss the weather with.' Not content with an article poking fun at the one men's group meeting he's ever been to, David even wrote a radio play on the subject, improbably portraying the group leader as some kind of New Age Nazi and most of its members as ineffectual dupes.
Time Out columnist and enfant terrible Jon Ronson, has written similarly about his experiences of a men's group in London's Pimlico. 'By the end of the evening,' Ronson concludes, 'Paul is throwing a pillow across the room to stop himself feeling guilty about masturbation. Simon from Dulwich is attempting to come to terms with the fact that he can't sustain an erection by having pretend conversations with his father. And I'm trying to convince Jeremy to invite some girls round. Judging by the competition, I'm bound to score.'
| As supposedly right-on men committed to women's liberation, we were as unlikely to stare at a woman's legs or breasts as we were to stop buying The Guardian. |
It would be easy to construct an argument explaining away such comments as a reflection of unacknowledged homophobia and emotional denial-and I'm sure there'd be some truth in such an analysis. But I also think it's entirely legitimate for questions to be raised about the usefulness of men's groups. It tends to be virtually axiomatic for men in the 'men's movements' to attend and advocate groups, but how often do we take the time to reflect on their strengths and weaknesses?
I reckon I must have spent some 400 hours over 10 years in various men's groups and I think it's more than appropriate for me to ask myself what, after this investment of time and energy, I have actually gained. If I hadn't been in a men's group, would I really be very different from how I am now? Am I faithfully meeting with my group just because I believe that's what men like me should be doing or am I confident it's actually doing me some good and contributing to real social change?
And what about the criticisms many feminists have made of men's groups? Women have certainly hoped group work will make men more aware of their sexism and able to support each other emotionally, but they've also been suspicious of what really goes on when men get together. They've wondered if men's groups amount to little more than merely another form of male-bonding, mutual guilt-tripping or an attempt by men to displace women as the victims of sexism. Crucially, women have questioned whether there's any practical evidence that men's groups seriously challenge men's sexism, either individually or collectively. What light does my own experience throw on these comments?
I've had direct experience of two sorts of men's group. The first group I joined was part of the Re-evaluation Co-counselling (RC) network. (In brief, RC is based on the premise that, by releasing or 'discharging' our feelings, we can free ourselves of 'chronic patterns' of damaging, rigid and irrational beliefs and behaviour rooted in emotional hurts from the past.) Over ten years, a group of men in North-East London has been meeting once a month (and sometimes weekly) to counsel with each other on key issues including our relationships with our parents, our sexuality, our feelings about women, our relationships with other men, sexism and violence.
The second group, which I've been in for about two years, is much more loosely structured and not run specifically as a counselling or therapy group. Meeting monthly, its main focus has been looking at the nature and quality of the relationships between the five men in the group as well as trying to support individual group members who may at times be experiencing particular difficulties. This group also has a more social dimension, each meeting ending with a meal. There have also been occasional 'outings', for example to a restaurant and to play or watch sport.
Two issues that came up at recent meetings of this latter group have encouraged me to take a closer and, hopefully, honest look at what I've really got out of both groups.
The first issue arose from our commitment to be truthful as we can be about our feelings rather than conduct our meetings behind a veneer of political correctness. We decided to discuss the issue of jealousy and we did so in what, for me, was a new, challenging and scary way. Each of us took a turn to say what ways we were jealous of the other group members.
Speaking from my heart rather than my head, I said I felt jealous of one man's flat tummy, another's good looks, a third man's physical fitness and the other member's relationship with his partner. Several other men commented on what was perceived to be the easy way one of us made friends with women; the size of his biceps was also mentioned. When I later reflected on these and other comments, I was struck by how, completely unconsciously, so much of what we'd said concerned each other's 'manly' attributes.
What's more, when one man commented that he was jealous of my honesty and another said he envied my ability to deal with the painful ending of a long relationship, I didn't feel particularly pleased, even though these attributes are among those I'm supposed to aspire to as a New Man. In fact, not only was I less than delighted, I actually also felt distinctly cheated and resentful. Why weren't they jealous of my flat stomach too? Weren't my biceps big enough? And why weren't they jealous of my attractiveness to women? When it came down to it, it seemed I also wanted to be envied for the kind of qualities possessed by the so-called 'real' man.
As I thought of this discussion and my feelings about it, I remembered another issue we'd talked about a few months earlier - ogling women on the street. Once one man had come out about his habit we all felt able to share similar experiences, ending the hitherto unspoken pretence that we, as supposedly right-on men committed to women's liberation, were as unlikely to stare at a woman's legs or breasts as we were to stop buying The Guardian. In fact, it seemed as if we were merely more discreet and guilt-ridden versions of the much-derided (and caricatured) construction worker who relentlessly leers and jeers at passing women.
All of the men in this group have been involved in a wide range of men's activities for several years. We've all been in therapy or counselling and 'worked' on our masculinity. We've talked for hours about our relationships with each other, with our partners, our fathers, our mothers, our colleagues. Yet, at the end of this painful and difficult process of self-exploration, here we were still objectifying women and comparing our triceps.
Moreover, both the men's groups I've been in have certainly spent some time looking at sexism as an issue - how we've learnt it, how we act it out, how it makes us feel - but virtually no time doing anything practical about it. My non-RC group did write to the Home Secretary complaining about Sara Thornton's unjust imprisonment for murder, but that's about it. When the idea of organising an event opposing male violence was mooted, most of the group members weren't interested. Picketing pornography outlets or running crèches have never been on the agenda. Neither is discussing who does the washing-up or changes the nappies at home.
The groups have met primarily to look at feelings rather than action, important certainly but still only half the picture. The major piece of anti-sexist men's work I've been involved with - helping to organise a conference for men opposed to pornography in 1990 - was not directly linked to any men's group I was in at the time. When it comes to consistent and effective challenges to my sexism, my experience is that these have invariably come from women rather from other men, inside or outside of a men's group.
My final critical observation on my experience of men's groups is that, while they have at times offered significant mutual care and support, this has too often taken place only within the meeting itself. I've known men (including myself) talk openly about major personal issues, yet concern from other group members has rarely carried over into the time between groups. I've found that unless I have a particular friendship with another man, I probably wouldn't contact him or he me between group meetings. At times, this has not only left me feeling isolated but also disappointed and disillusioned with the quality of relationships within the groups.
| When we feel scared we often act tough - and the more frightened we are, the tougher we try to act. |
But, despite this indictment, I also know I've changed considerably during the time I've been in men's groups. How much of this has been specifically due to the groups is harder to determine. Some change can undoubtedly be attributed simply to ageing and exposure to a wide variety of new experiences. Much more is due to my wider involvement in RC (most of which takes place on a one-to-one rather than group basis) and, recently, psycho-analytic therapy. Living for several years with a feminist who repeatedly confronted my sexism also had a major impact. Nevertheless, I still do believe that my men's groups have made a definite contribution to my personal and political development.
I'm sure my RC group in particular has made a difference to my understanding of masculinity. By being counselled and by counselling and listening to other men talk intimately about their lives, I've learnt much about the way males are socialised and the often profound differences between how we feel and how we act as men. Seeing, hearing and personally experiencing this has been much more profound than just reading about it in books. For example, I've seen very clearly how when we feel scared we often act tough - and the more frightened we are, the tougher we try to act. I've also realised that beneath the surface of many men's sexism lies a deep and usually hidden sense of personal inadequacy.
RC's emphasis on emotional expression and release has also been important for me as a man who was previously unable to talk about or show my feelings. As far as I can recall, I didn't cry once between the ages of about five and twenty-five. When I was depressed, I never told my friends. I never even let people know when I felt happy. To allow myself to feel and especially to reveal my emotions was a huge step forward, particularly when I felt safe enough to do it with other men. After all, they are the last people before whom a man should display his vulnerabilities. Feeling cared for and supported by a group of men has also made it much easier for me to enjoy physical closeness with men, to share intimate details of my life with all my male friends and to respect and even simply like other men.
I believe my contact with men in RC has encouraged me to take the issue of sexism more seriously. I believe men in RC have paid more attention to the issue of sexism than almost any other part of the men's movements - counselling on this issue has been a constant theme at nationally and regionally organised workshops for at least the past three years.
Through this process, I've realised that my personal growth as a man is inextricably linked to ending sexism since my negative feelings and attitudes towards femininity hold my masculinity firmly locked in place. How can I recover or get in touch with my 'female side' while I continue to devalue it in others and myself? The same applies to my feelings about homosexuality - if I put down those who appear to be less than fully male, how can I possibly enjoy closeness and intimacy with other men. Supporting gay liberation and feminism is thus central to my self-development.
| Feeling cared for and supported by a group of men has also made it much easier for me to enjoy physical closeness with men and even simply to like other men. |
My non-RC men's group has also helped to improve my one-to-one relationships with the men in it as well as other men. It's helped me confront some of my timidity about talking about my real needs and wants with men and to be more honest about my feelings about the men in the group and the issues we're looking at. One particularly powerful discussion of each of our hopes, expectations and disappointments about our relationships with each other also very clearly exposed how closely my relationships with men parallel my own complex and contradictory relationship with my father.
My involvement in practical men's activities have also been rooted in my men's group work, even if these activities have not been shared with fellow group members. Groups have given me insights into masculinity and an understanding of ways of working with men as well as the self-confidence and incentive to put them into practice. They have formed an important backdrop to my writing about men's issues, participation in a campaign against pornography, involvement in Achilles Heel and, more recently, voluntary work for an anti-male violence project.
All these experiences seem to me to suggest that the men's groups I've been in have changed but not transformed my life. They haven't achieved everything I (or many feminists) might have hoped for but they've certainly given me a push in the right direction. In fact, it's probably unrealistic to expect men to change quickly or dramatically through men's groups given the depth of men's socialisation into masculinity, a process that continues virtually all the time.
I also believe the fact that I and some other men choose to meet in men's groups at all is really rather extraordinary and almost an achievement in itself. It's certainly not what men are supposed to do. Our role, after all, is to down pints in the pub, watch football and try to get laid. For any man to seek out the company of men to talk openly about his feelings and relationships and perhaps even get physically close is to make him a possible target for derision, humiliation and even violence. From this perspective,joining a men's group requires a certain courage not usually associated with the wimps and no-hopers David Bowker, Jon Ronson et al associate with this still too unusual activity.
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