This is the basement bar of a man who loves to entertain. It’s quite remarkable, all the effort he has made to create a space of welcome, camaraderie, fun, humor, carefreeness. (Is that a word?) The decor is copious, charming and corny. He even had t-shirts made up with the name of his bar! So much booze, so much music (boxes and boxes of vinyl record albums!), and I have heard tales of extensive planning and provision of food for the epic parties. It has such an authentic feel of a bar that’s been in business for over half a century, that it’s hard to believe that it’s in someone’s home.
And here’s the thing. This party guy is also a prince of a human being. He’s in a caring profession, he’s a good dad, he’s a good citizen, he’s a good friend. He makes sure that people have a place to crash for the night so they don’t drive under the influence. And he treats women with respect.
He lived down the hall from me in the dorm my freshman year at college. And one night when I was incredibly drunk, he helped me into my bed, turned the lights off and locked the door behind him as he left.
I had completely forgotten about this incident until recently. A few weeks ago, when sexual assault was again front and center in the cultural dialogue, I reflected at length about how I have been so lucky to be relatively unscathed. I have had my fair share of sexual harassment scrapes to be sure, but nothing too traumatic. I have suffered far more from sexism negatively impacting my professional life, but that is a topic for another day.
And this night, this man – it came back to me. The memory is just a flicker, because it was so long ago and because I was so drunk at the time. He made sure I was safe.
There was another incident in a different dorm when I was a junior at UMass. A guy who did do the wrong thing – stood on the toilet in an adjoining bathroom stall and looked over the partition at me as I peed. I screwed up the courage to report it, and he and his buddies were pissed. They apparently planned to harass me mercilessly, but there was one guy in his group of friends who knew me – and ran interference. He convinced them to leave me alone. Remarkably, that’s what happened. It was tense, but I avoided and ignored them and vice versa.
There are countless other men who have walked with me to my home or my car to make sure I arrived safely. There are men who have helped me with maintenance issues when I didn’t have the knowledge to fix them safely, who have carried heavy loads for me to make sure I didn’t hurt myself, who have given me safety items to help me in case I am in a jam.
Beyond that – there are men who have mentored me, who have advocated for me, who have been friends, colleagues, brothers, uncles… I appreciate our connections as equals, and use of your male privilege among men to help create a path for me and for my sisters to be more fully who we are capable of being.
I don’t know if there is a hashtag for it, like #gooddudesgooddeeds or something like that, but I celebrate the good actions of good men.
I absolutely believe that revealing, critiquing and holding people accountable for bad behavior is vitally important.
But I think it is equally important to envision, embody, celebrate and propagate what is right – what is respectful, inclusive and life-giving.
Thank you, good dudes. Keep up the good work! The world needs you.
And thanks especially right now to my friend from down the hall my freshman year, with whom it has been so nice to reconnect after all this time.
