Why are we shocked? Let’s be honest

I can go into a state of denial, I think a lot of us can.

One thing I’ve noticed about men: we’re not great at taking criticism, eh. If you followed the Gillette ad on certain Twitter feeds, you’d think it had released a video supporting Isis. It was just an ad saying ‘‘be a decent human’’, but some of us found that too much to deal with.

Some people made it about religion but I’m not sure how. ‘‘Why don’t they make an ad about Muslim men?’’ was one comment I read, forgetting my pledge to never read the comments.

I’m far from an expert, but I don’t think Muslims are a great target demographic for a razor blade company. I could be wrong.

I often don’t take criticism well. I have had an incredible life of almost non-stop success. That is not a brag, I’ve been given every opportunity, and against almost no odds, I have succeeded.

My recollection of myself over the past 20 years has been a ‘‘good’’ life that I’ve ‘‘worked hard for’’ (mildly) and I think that helps confirm that I’m a ‘‘good person’’.

But I’m not always a good person, and whenever this selfaggrandising version of myself is challenged, whether I’m caught in a lie, or doing something wrong, I immediately dismiss it.

I can go into a state of denial, I think a lot of us can.

Maybe that’s why some of us are reacting so poorly to the #MeToo movement (#NotAllMen) or a TV commercial made by a razor blade company.

The recent wave of social media and normal media backlash against sexual assault has been a splash of cold water in the face, and it’s hard to deal with.

My first reaction to bad news has always been to victim blame: ‘‘Why was she out that late?’’ ‘‘Maybe Africa deserves to be poor?’’ ‘‘Why did he put his head in a beehive?’’ It’s terrible thinking but it helps me feel less bad about bad news.

My second reaction is to minimise: ‘‘It’s not all bad!’’ ‘‘It could be worse!’’ ‘‘What about the Muslims?’’

I don’t know why but ‘‘What about the Muslims?’’ seems to come up in most comments sections, regardless of what the original topic was. Actually, I do know why.

My third reaction is a bit better: ‘‘Launch a tweet’’ – it’s well proven that a tweet doesn’t really achieve much but I like to show that I care. Or at least that I’m thinking about caring. Or at least that I want people to think that I’m thinking about caring.

What I find interesting about all the ‘‘shocked and saddened’’ reactions that I see and hear every day is that I can never tell how genuine they are.

Are we actually shocked? ‘‘Who did she sleep with to get that role?’’ was a very common joke before the Harvey Weinstein scandal. ‘‘Fake casting couch’’ is a popular genre of porn. We have a popular item of clothing that’s literally called a ‘‘wife beater’’.

Are we pretending to be surprised? Is it because we’re embarrassed we didn’t react sooner? Is it because it shatters the illusion of how we view ourselves, or our gender?

Maybe we can learn a lot from porn? It’s not a nice thing to talk about, but someone’s watching it? Right? Not me obviously, I’m a good person.

I sometimes worry that with important but unpleasant issues such as #MeToo, we don’t want to face them. Climate change deniers have all the fun.

Maybe there are a lot of us out there who have lived blameless lives, but almost every woman I know has suffered some sort of terrible experience at the hands of a man, and we should probably be more honest about it.

I need to start with myself. The man in the mirror. (Michael Jackson music kicks in . . . then abruptly stops as I remember the documentary that’s coming out about him soon. More appropriate music kicks in, fade to black.)