I’m with her

Self-awareness helps us be better men

Last year, I attended a play called I’m With Her, where eight white-clad female performers read out the stories of Australian women who achieved success even while being undermined and opposed by men. There was the nun, forbidden from preaching in church, who found ways to preach elsewhere. The pro surfer who overcame male surf culture to become the world's number one female. The sex worker who united her colleagues to call for legal boundaries in their industry. The famous biologist who, as a teenager, was denied access to veterinary school because she was a girl.

Eight tales of women overcoming male resistance, ranging from indifference to malice to violence. I was so angry at the many injustices the women faced, but comforted myself with the thought, 'At least I'm not as bad as those guys.'

Afterwards, a group of people was hanging around. It seemed they wanted to talk about the play, but no one spoke.

Uncomfortable with the silence, I blurted, “That was so uplifting!”

The women looked at me in disbelief. One, a special needs educator, said tearfully that the performance had brought up great sadness from past times when men had blocked her way.

Another woman, former CEO of the state’s public health promotion agency, noted that, unlike her male peers, she’d never once been asked to be on a board since stepping down. Why was no one tapping her vast reservoir of experience and wisdom?

A third recounted her frustration at trying to convince UK companies to include women on their boards, and then, as manager of the mostly female staff of a US firm. dealing with married male leaders who thought nothing of having affairs with staff, volunteers, and even customers.

I mostly stayed quiet, but the same voice in my head was reassuring me, 'Don’t worry, Miles. That's not you.'

On the way home, my wife asked, “What was going on? You were being weird."

I shrugged defensively. Then slowly, I gave voice to the emotional rollercoaster inside.

“Why didn't you say how you felt?” she asked. “It would have made a big difference.”

I'm supposed to be the mentor who teaches self-awareness, yet I'd just failed the real-life test.

Then came her second challenge, “How does White Male Privilege apply to you?” I didn’t know.

“It's not personal, but about most men," she continued. "You consider your job is more important than mine. And that you should get sex when you want. That by default, the chores fall to me. But no one agreed to these expectations.”

That was good mentoring. Even at my age, there is much to learn about being a man! Neither submissive nor dominating, but aware of the assumptions I bring to interactions:

■ What are my unconscious biases and expectations?

■ Can I be open to different perspectives?

■ What am I feeling?

■ Can I articulate it?

■ What subjects do I consider taboo?

It’s the only way we’ll move ahead together.

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