Swallows and Amazons
The girls go marching two by two
Early in the 2017 film Wonder Woman, there’s a flashback to the moment when the peace of Themyscira is shattered by the violence of men. As metaphors go, it’s about as subtle as an anvil dropped by Wile E. Coyote.
The soldiers crash onto the island’s shores with their boats and their guns and their guns and their war, and, in response, Amazon warriors rappel down a cliff face while others, with the agility of circus acrobats, ride into the fray. It’s an action-packed sequence with weapons, martial arts stunts in slo-motion, and the metallic clash of swords.
Sitting in the theater next to my then nine-year-old son, I cried.
To be fair, 2017 was a challenging year hormonally. I cried when the spaghetti stuck together in a starchy pasta clump, but that’s not why I was weepy that day. No, that day, I was snuffling over my popcorn because I was watching a blockbuster manifestation of a truth I’ve known in my bones since I was a teenager.
Contrary to what Pete Hegseth and the grip-strength bros might say, when it comes to protecting girls and women, men are not doing the heavy lifting. In the real world, mothers, besties, and sisters are doing it for themselves.
In Oregon last week, a different group of wonder women tackled and detained a man who was assaulting women on a popular hiking trail. No swords, shields, or god-born powers needed. The six women, including a 74-year-old who had clearly had enough of his shit, kicked, bit, yanked, and pulled at the man’s hair and clothes until the police arrived—31 minutes after the first call for help.
Apparently, dispatch deemed the first call suspicious.
Ca-thunk. Another metaphoric anvil hits the desert floor.
It was hard not to do a small fist pump when I read that. Who among us hasn’t had fantasies about detaining, kicking, and biting the men who’ve harmed us? A trio of teenage furies set upon the high school ass grabber, a round-house kick to the nuts of the straphanger who “accidentally” grinds his hard-on into your back, or maybe even some light-hearted Judith and Holofernes swordplay directed at men who think it’s funny to terrorize girls and women.
Just the tip, of course.
Of course they protected one another, I thought; who else was going to do it?
Often, what gets packaged and sold to us as male protection looks more like Bruce Willis blockbusters than actual protection. Bruce crawling through the air ducts in Nakatomi Plaza, Bruce drilling into an asteroid to protect the planet. In a patriarchal system, male protection of girls and women is presented as heroism: a good guy untying a woman from the train tracks seconds before the 3:10 to Yuma speeds by.
For many girls and women, actual protection looks more like going to the toilet in pairs. Bars, restaurants, concerts, and house parties, two by two. Men know we’re not doing that (just) to bitch about Jessica and reapply fruity lip gloss, right? They know we’re doing it to stand guard, or to put an extra barrier between ourselves and the potential of predatory men?
Girls and women move in pairs and packs to prevent harassment, to avoid unwanted hands in dark corners. Girls roaming in she-wolf packs through Abercrombie and Fitch is part social behavior, part survival mechanism. It’s harder to harass, assault, or harm whole groups of girls. There is safety in numbers. A girl alone is an easier target; a woman alone is easier prey.
Pack mentality is not just advice mothers give their daughters; it’s a priori knowledge encoded in XX genes, passed down from the ghosts of women who didn’t make it out alive.
The girls go marching two by two, hurrah, hurrah. The girls go marching two by two, the little one stops to guard the loo, and we all go marching down into the ground to escape from the men.
Hey, girl, watch my drink. Do you need help? Is that guy bothering you? Ring once when you get home. Stay on the phone while you’re in the taxi, here’s my date’s name. If I text you, call me back with an emergency exit plan. I’ll meet you on the corner so you don’t have to walk alone. You’re drunk, let’s get you in an Uber.
I’m not saying every girl or woman does this. Nor am I saying that boys or men never step up. My 6’5” son knows that if any young woman in his group is alone, he gets them home, even if it means he’s late, even if it means he has to wait for the next train.
What I am saying is that for a lot of girls and women, there’s no 6’5” man around. Or worse? There is, but the wrong one.
The wise woman, the witch, the friend of Jane. Here’s a sachet of pennyroyal tea, let me give you a ride to Planned Parenthood. Here’s how to cover that bruise with foundation and the number of a place to call when you’re ready. Let me hold your hair back while you puke up that Peppermint Schnapps. Let’s get a girl gang together and tackle the guy who is harassing women on the trail. Let’s go visit Giulia Tofana.
Hold him still, said Judith.
What about in times of war? That’s the question that almost always gets asked when women write about the fallacy of male protection in a patriarchal system. Or, bizarrely, oil rigs and mines. What about them, huh, Dina? Who’s gonna protect you if there’s a war? Who’s going to supply your fossil fuels so you can write your Feminist screeds on the internet?
For me, that’s where the whole men as protector of the realm argument breaks down completely.
True protection is not fighting a bloody battle on my behalf; it’s not starting wars or electing men who start wars in the first place. Men sending other men to die for oil, for land, or Trojan women? That’s not protection, it’s the patriarchy exploiting the bodies of men the same way it exploits the bodies of women.
Real protection is not drilling into the sea bed or blowing the tops off of mountains to extract what’s within. It’s recognizing that climate change will disproportionately affect girls and women and that protecting the planet is better for us all.
Actual protection is holding rapists and abusers, gropers and harassers, assaulters and general dickheads accountable.
Protection actually looks a lot like prevention. Pulling up on the trusty steed after the farmer’s daughter was raped, or in the police cruiser 31 minutes after the fact, isn’t protection. It’s just lip service wearing a white hat.
No one needs Bruce to drill into an asteroid to save humankind. Nakatami Plaza isn’t real.
We don’t need another hero. We just need men to stop hurting women.
Yippee-kai-yay, motherfucker.
There were no swallows on Themyscira, only Amazons. They didn’t hire a group of buffed-up high-T mercenaries in camo gear to protect them. They knew that’s who they needed to protect themselves from.
Everyday women aren’t rappelling down cliffs to protect themselves from the violence of men, the ones crashing into our lives with their rape and their guns and their guns and their wars.
We’re just trailing each other to the loo, two by two. Checking in, shielding each other when we can, preventing harm before it happens. We’re advocating for systemic changes that will keep us all safer. Girls, boys, men, and women.
I won’t lie, though. Sometimes, a little sword action might be nice.
Just the tip, of course.
This was inspired by the women in Oregon as well as a conversation with KJ Chamarette, whose work you should be reading if you’re not already. As always, thank you for being here. You know the drill: like, share, spill your secrets. xxx dmh
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"Or, bizarrely, oil rigs and mines."
One of our biggest miners, up around where I live, has just been hit with a class action suit about sexual harassment and assault endured by women employees. An academic here, Dr Skye Charry (Saunders), specialises in sexual harassment and assault in mine sites and regional, remote and rural areas. Her work is vital.
Men talk a lot about protecting women. A. Lot.
I have never been protected by a man. Countless women, yes, but never a man. And now we have to be wary of every man wearing glasses.
But for those men who believe themselves so courageous, so virtuous, so dependable and protective - who are you protecting us from?
Thank you for the tag, Dina; I appreciate your work more than you know.
Also - the vast majority of the time, the male idea of "protecting" women is locking women up. Reining them in. Restricting their freedom. On an instinctual level, it's not actually the woman they're protecting; what men are protecting is their exclusive reproductive rights.
Real protection would mean ensuring more freedom, not less.