“Folks, this is your captain. Kindly take your seats. I illuminated that fasten seat-belt sign. In a few minutes, me and my girl will be shaking us out some rough old turbulence.” By Matthew Pitt

We need to love our boys so they learn the power of their own love as husbands, fathers and men.
When you lose your identity, it’s called insanity. And for some men, manhood is their identity.
“It’s refreshing to see these guys take the public perception of parents into their own hands.”
The Unabashed Tourist Brings Her Lover to the French Quarter
Tom Gualtieri insists that DOMA and Prop 8 are bias laws without basis in the U.S. Constitution.
Poet Robert Peake asks us to look at war, nihilism and love to start the healing.
Rape culture is the trivialization of rape, and it permeates our society to an alarming extent.
By all means, let’s improve mental health services in the US. Please. But if you want to talk about how to prevent rampage violence, s.e. smith is afraid you’re going to need to move on to other subjects.
Shooting after shooting, we’re confronted by the question of what it means to be a man. We refuse to answer—and we all suffer for it.
Sam Sattin wonders, how do we tell the difference between the revolutionary and the trivial?

This weekend, we have an excerpt from Robert Kloss’s striking new novel, THE ALLIGATORS OF ABRAHAM, a Civil War epic unlike any other.
“What did it mean to be a person in this world?” 3-year-old Walter asks himself somewhere in his subconscious in this weekend’s brilliant story by Sarah Tourjee. Isn’t that the question we’re all asking? As a parent, and as a person, this story seemed necessary to me, in its struggle to figure out what one’s place […]
When Meredith initially hears that her estranged father has been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, she says nothing. When Eliot, a long-time friend of her father’s, calls and asks her to see him, she hangs up. But once she runs out of ways to say no, Mere agrees to visit, reasoning that he’ll soon lose all memory of their estrangement.

Lauren Chief Elk speaks of the brutal sexual violence crushing Native American communities
Something is very wrong here. My peers feel it, I feel it, and it’s not going away. Those of us in the Native American community know we are being targeted—and as I read about sexualized violence against civilians in war zones, I can’t help but draw parallels to the brutality against Native women.
Violence against us is at astronomical levels; it is a plague. This is not hyperbole and this not a distortion of numbers. The United Nations Department of Economic and Social Affairs described the plight of Native American women as a human rights crisis. Amnesty International called it an epidemic. Amnesty reports that our women are 2.5 times more likely to be stalked than any other population; the murder rate with respect to Native women is 10 times the national average. Most disconcerting is that Native women report that the perpetrators of more than 85 percent of sexualized assaults against them are non-Native men, according to the U.S. Department of Justice.
In fact, rape and abuse in our community have always stemmed from outsiders. It is well documented through oral traditions, stories, and cultural beliefs that prior to the European invasion, sexualized and domestic violence was not accepted and virtually did not exist in indigenous society. In “Decolonizing Rape Law: A Native Feminist Synthesis of Safety and Sovereignty,” Native scholar and activist Sarah Deer states that rape was once “extremely rare in tribal communities. Arguably, the imposition of colonial systems of power and control has resulted in Native women being the most victimized group of people in the United States.”

Pointing our anger at the facilitators of a discussion on consent interferes with our ability to see a greater point.
The various articles that have appeared here on The Good Men Project regarding the topic of consent have started an intense and necessary conversation. I was originally satisfied to observe it from the sidelines—that is, until I learned that colleagues and contributors were targeted personally and, in my view, unfairly. I’m responding primarily to those who’ve taken issue with The Good Men Project’s decision to print the anonymous article titled I’d Rather Risk Rape Than Give Up Partying.

It may be comforting to believe that all rapists are bad people, but in truth, rape most often happens between friends, lovers, acquaintances and pals.
We see it all the time in the movies and on TV.
There’s a guy and a girl, and you know they’re gonna end up together. They have a super-hot dynamic that consists of witty banter, challenging each other, and doing things to really piss each other off. They may fight, but they also watch the other walk away with a combination of both longing and disgust.
Eventually, there’s the scene where the two of them hook up. They’re arguing, and it’s intense. There’s a lot of sexual tension. They watch each other, connecting through their eyes. They’re both fired up and have flushed cheeks. Maybe she bites her lip…
He steps forward, grabs her arms and tries to kiss her. She says, “No, stop. I can’t—”
He interrupts, “You can. You know you haven’t stopped thinking about this since we met.”
“I have,” she says. “It’s just…” She turns away from him. She’s torn.

The conversion therapy business may be more about making money than setting you straight.
“But what is a bias towards fairness?” Maggie looked on beleaguered.
“Bias toward fairness means that if the entire Congressional Republican Caucus were to walk into the House and propose a resolution stating that the Earth was flat, the Times would lead with, ‘Democrats and Republicans Can’t Agree on Shape of Earth.’”
This is the message of HBO’s Newsroom created by Aaron Sorkin. Mackenzie and Will explained that there are not always two sides to every story, sometimes there are five sides or five hundred sides, and to position a one-two argument sometimes leaves the Crazy with way too much legitimacy.
Oh how art imitates reality.

Contrary to what the movies say, women don’t want romance—at least not straight away.
I’ll often groan when a movie uses a sweeping romantic gesture to nudge the plot along to its natural conclusion. The guy does something wildly over-the-top and ludicrously romantic to win over the girl’s heart and, consequently, our two always-outta-luck characters get together. The next and final scene shows them as happy as an eHarmony ad: they’re playing ball on a deserted beach with a friendly looking Golden Retriever, or walking down the aisle as confetti’s thrown on them by less attractive-looking friends (the comic relief).
The subliminal message here is: do something crazily romantic and you’ll seal the deal. According to these movies the bigger the gesture, the better! The more insane the gesture, the more lovable you are! The shorter the amount of time you’ve known her, the more romantic!
We’re not all stereotypical, but even men who fit a mold are still real.
In college, I briefly dated an ambitious young man who was a recent immigrant from Pakistan. He dressed in flashy clothes, liked to go night clubbing, was polite with women but regarded them as whores (“all Muslim men are misogynist”), and helped newer immigrants than himself but laughed at them behind their backs for being “FOBs”—“fresh off the boat.” His American English was perfect; he adopted an American sounding name, and preferred the company of Americans to fellow expatriates. One evening on our way to the nightclubs, he confessed that his ambition was to own a gas station with an attached convenience store. When I laughed at this, uncertain how to say, “John, are you unaware that you embody every American stereotype of new Pakistani immigrants?” without offending, he went on to explain the business model with undaunted enthusiasm. It’s not the gas you make money on, it’s the stuff you sell inside that has a high profit margin.

“Sex just isn’t fun any more.”
“What!?” I exclaimed.
“I dunno. I just feel like its gotten to the point where if I want to sleep with someone, I should get a notarized, written statement of their consent. It’s just gotten crazy!”
I cannot tell you how many times I have had this conversation. As a sexual violence prevention educator, one thing is very clear to me: we suck at talking about sex.
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