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When Bad Women's Magazines Become Worse

I saw an email from Terry Brennan about a recent article at Elle magazine entitled "When Do Good Boys Become Bad Men?" and went to take a look. I shouldn't have, of course, because it was the same boy bashing/man bashing diatribe that so many of the propagandist magazines spoon-feed their readers without a thought to the damage they cause. Here is an example of the sad ideas these child-abusing, misandric magazines present to their eagerly awaiting disciples:

My 3-year-old son can’t fall asleep without me. We’ve recently transitioned him from his crib to a bed, and it’s not going well. At 7 p.m. we give him milk, read him books, and then I gently tuck him in, only to be met with piercing, distressing screams. “MOMMY! Lie down with me! MOOOOMMMMY!” And so I sigh and remind myself to buy some books about toddler sleep training, and then I snuggle up to him and let him stroke my head until he starts to breathe heavily. I think about how I’m hungry and tired and would like a glass of wine. I think about my two little boys and this fucked up moment we’re living in. There are so many bad men everywhere. How did they get that way? Then I count to 100 to make sure he’s down and sneak back to our living room....

What happens in between where my sons are now and where some men end up? I see someone like Brett Kavanaugh—sputtering, denying, entitled, angry—and I wonder how to guide my babies toward kindness instead of abuse, gratefulness instead of take, take, take, mine, mine, mine. What did Kavanaugh’s mother think as she watched her son’s display, his evasion and defensiveness, the tone he took when Senator Amy Klobuchar asked him about drinking to the point of not remembering. “You’re talking about blackout,” he spit at Klobuchar. “I don’t know. Have you?” Did his mother shrink her in skin? Did she think: I taught him to be respectful; Did she think: Where did I go wrong?; Did she ever think: Maybe he did it?...

My husband is British and doesn’t understand the American obsession with masculine strength, this idea that men are men and weakness is a liability. The misplaced confidence, the showing off, the bro mentality, he just doesn’t get it. More than that, he thinks it’s grotesque. We recently walked by a father and son playing catch in the park. The boy, a delicate wisp with stick legs, missed the ball, and the dad barked menacingly, “Come on, buddy! You can do better than that.” My husband was deeply bothered, he stewed about it all day. “This country is a violent place,” he said at dinner that night. “And why would you call your son ‘buddy’?”