A few years back, a new phenomenon/forum germinated on the internet. It was dubbed MGTOW (Men Going Their Own Way), a community dedicated to men who have completely given up on women and see feminists as their sworn enemies and male oppressors; they will remain celibate, they claim, as anything was better than a relationship and marriage. In the preliminary stages of MGTOW, initiates are asked to lay off dating, relationship and marriage completely. As they ascend the millennial monkhood ladder, they are asked to quit jobs and retreat completely from civilisation to avoid any kind of contact with women. The origin of the now extremely popular movement, with membership in the hundreds of thousands, suggested that it was relatively benign, compared to the rape apologetics and toxicity of similar forums like incels (involuntary celibates). However, it did not take much time for the caustic memes to start making their appearance—women superheroes in Avengers: Infinity Wars finally taking down Thanos by accusing him of sexual harassment, and photos of civilian rescue ops from the recent Kerala floods sarcastically tagged as patriarchal men rescuing women without consent. At the last count, at least five highly educated, white collar, ‘lit’ friends in my Facebook feed shared the MGTOW memes.
The past week has seen an outpouring of #MeToo allegations in India, especially in the media and stand-up comedy field. The list was surprising for many. For one, many of the accused—whose crimes ranged from sending blurry (I assume) unsolicited dick pics, to laughably pathetic attempts to con women into having affairs with them. Everyone from renowned artists, to Chetan Bhagats, to enthusiastic journos who take themselves too seriously—a la the prime candidates for righteous op-eds on sexual harassment—all watched their world crumble in 280-character resolution.
Irony: The same people, who laughed and jeered when a bumbling Kevin Spacey blamed mental illness after paedophilia charges were first levelled against him, announced their ‘brave’ collective decision to go into therapy to better themselves the moment the cookie started to crumble. Irony of ironies: A stand-up comedian who was previously a part of a comedy collective, triggered the whole firestorm with a snide, self-satisfied, ‘these Indian perverts’ tweet about some desi men who converted a Western luxury cruiser into their own alcohol-fuelled strip club, much to the dismay of their co-passengers. Faster than one could say ‘you too’, a Twitter user accused the comedian of sending pictures of his genitalia to women who as much as smiled at him. The first domino had fallen. The world had come a full circle. No longer could the woke bros make jokes about Haryanvi uncles who pulled up their dhotis, exposing themselves at the first sight of women. No longer would catchphrases like ‘chasing some tail’ or ‘getting some strange’ mask the stink of predatorial tendencies that oozed from every inch of their Van Heusen tees and their Rayban glasses. No longer could they ask women to ‘send noods’ and act like it was a funny, enlightened cultural reclamation of the white man’s favourite Indian stereotype.
The Indian metrosexual male is a strange creature. On Twitter, social media, and in mixed company, they quote Gloria Steinem and ragefully empathise with their female friends who had to watch a man publicly masturbate on the Delhi metro. In the presence of creatures of his same genus, however, the soc-jus (social justice) revolutionary completely drops the garb of basic respectability. When a woman does not, and I quote, “give it up”, they lament about “throwing good money after bad [a certain female genital organ]”. They take pride in their woke creds, and then quietly whisper about the angry b*****s ruining the careers of their patron saints Aziz Ansari and Louis C.K. They virtue-signal, and then proudly boast in private circles about “ghosting” their latest fling, or “stealthing” [removing condom during sex without the knowledge of his partner] a date he met a week back. Women, take a look around. Take in the smorgasbord of shitty male lifeforms that surround you—from the ‘woke in the streets, creep in the sheets’, to the beta bro who sports a poster of Barney Stinson or Charlie Harper, and that handsy associate who insists he is oversexed and just needs a female friend. The writing on the wall is clear: 9/10 would invade your personal space.
