In defence of the stale, pale male
WIhat’s your name? Is it Bob? Bazza? Bert? Maybe you’re a Kevin, a Garth or a Warren. If so, there’s a good chance you’ve been branded a ‘‘stale, pale male’’.
The label describes older white men who are deemed irrelevant, out-of-touch and past their useby date. They have lost their social currency because they have been unwilling – or unable – to get with the times.
The remarkable thing is, a fifth of our population fits the ‘‘stale, pale male’’ category. At the last Census, there were 1,026,870 European men over the age of 40.
Let’s be clear: no-one needs to pull out the violins for these guys. Most have ample power and resources to defend their own interests.
If you’re a middle-aged white bloke, you probably lead a comfortable, stable life. You’re more likely than other groups to have employment, housing and wealth. You’re less likely to be affected by poverty and discrimination.
You may own a bike, a boat, a bach or a business. You may have long-established family and social connections that contribute to your wellbeing. In all likelihood, you haven’t been spat on in the street. You haven’t experienced violence because of your race. You haven’t had a job application rejected because of the sound of your name.
This is what we call ‘‘white privilege’’: the ability to enjoy a higher level of freedom than others, simply because your genetics place you in the majority.
But I’m concerned that it’s becoming acceptable – and even fashionable – to condemn all middleaged white men, purely on the basis of their demographics.
The term ‘‘stale, pale male’’ is often attributed to Nasa administrator Daniel Goldin who, in 1992, criticised the lack of diversity in the space agency. Three decades later, it has become an umbrella term for all white men of a certain age – regardless of who they are, how they live or what they contribute to society.
Almost every day, I watch people roll their eyes and make snarky comments about older white men. They’re mocked and judged, not because of anything they have necessarily done or said, but simply because they fit a caricature.
Our polarised culture is obsessed with extremes. You’re either in or out; right or wrong. For generations, white men ruled the world – controlling commerce, politics, education and the media. Now, the dominant view is that they should shut up.
We don’t want ‘‘stale, pale males’’ on boards. We don’t want to see too many of them on TV. We don’t want to hear their opinions on Twitter. The message is clear: ‘‘Can’t you see that your time is up? We no longer care about your ideas. We’re not interested in what you have to say.’’
As one white man in his 50s told me, ‘‘I feel like I’m not allowed to have an opinion any more, and I no longer know where my place is.’’ Is this really what we want for a million Kiwis? Does our quest for diversity require us to rob older white men of their own identity?
n March, I wrote an essay about how, as a Sri Lankan New Zealander, I whitewashed myself in order to fit into Kiwi society. I received a small amount of incredibly hateful, offensive feedback. Almost all of it, unsurprisingly, was from older white men.
When we talk about racism, diversity and equity, it’s inevitably cynical white men who show up with loudspeakers and try to drown out the conversation.
The same men complain about newsreaders speaking te reo. They resist the use of Ma¯ ori placenames. They blame migrants for pushing up house prices. Do these men deserve the ‘‘stale, pale male’’ moniker? Absolutely.
But being old, white and male doesn’t automatically make you a racist. Being racist makes you a racist. Do I really need to spell this out? The majority of Kiwi men are decent and hard-working. Some lead businesses, schools and sports teams. Others have spent decades farming our countryside, building our roads and planning our cities. They are husbands, fathers and grandfathers – and good men.
I shouldn’t be stereotyped for being a young, brown male. On that basis, middle-aged white men should not be stereotyped for their characteristics either.
Having said that, we have some work to do. Each of us is the product of the environment in which we grew up, and the cultural scripts we have been exposed to. Many older Kiwi men are simply living out of outdated stories.
They are struggling to wrap their heads around the fact that the New Zealand they grew up in is very different to the New Zealand they find themselves in now. They can’t make sense of trends like multiculturalism, globalisation and diversity.
For those of us in Auckland and Wellington, it’s easy to be holier-than-thou – celebrating how progressive and enlightened we are, while writing off the large swathes of heartland New Zealand. We do so at our peril.
Last year, when National’s Judith Collins smugly asked, ‘‘Is there something wrong with me being white?’’, she was trying to dismiss the shameful lack of diversity in National’s caucus.
But I’ve observed that the very same sentiment is growing in provincial New Zealand. There’s increasing resentment that the push for diversity is causing Kiwis of the ‘‘stale, pale male’’ variety to feel threatened, ostracised and belittled.
This is often dismissed as ‘‘white fragility’’. People say, ‘‘So what? White people are in the majority. They should be tough enough to take some heat for all the problems they have caused.’’ Sorry, but that just doesn’t cut it.
If we claim that all Kiwis should experience dignity, that includes ‘‘stale, pale males’’. Inclusion isn’t just for minorities. Inclusion is for everybody.
When cultural resentment is allowed to fester, it wreaks havoc. We only need to look to Europe and America to see the effects of white nationalism, division and even violence that has been led by people who felt marginalised in their own country.
And let’s not pretend that being a white male entitles you to a rosy life. Many Kiwi men experienced childhood trauma. Around one in six are survivors of sexual abuse. Many men struggle with their mental health, and we have one of the highest male suicide rates in the developed world.
There are plenty of white men in this country who know what it’s like to struggle – and not to be heard. Their stories matter just as much as anyone else’s.
Throughout my career, some of the biggest champions of my work would have been classed as ‘‘stale, pale males’’. I am indebted to them for their support and mentorship. Over the past year, I have met plenty of older white men in positions of leadership who are fighting to open doors for tangata whenua, ethnic minorities, women, people with disabilities and other groups. In sectors like engineering, construction and agriculture, there are men who are trying to change their organisations for the better.
What about those who are stuck in their ways? Well, there are two ways to try to change their views. One option is to bash them over the head for being old, white and male, hoping they will feel ashamed enough to become more progressive.
The other option is to tell a compelling story about what New Zealand’s future could look like – a vision so irresistible that they will want to be part of it, even if it comes at a cost to them. Even if it requires them to enter territory that may be unfamiliar or uncomfortable.
Rather than demonising ‘‘stale, pale males’’, we need to engage them on an emotional level – challenging and inspiring them to be part of a modern Aotearoa. As black American poet and activist Maya Angelou observed, ‘‘When you know better, you do better’’.
I will continue to call out racism, prejudice and unconscious bias. No-one gets a free pass here. We will make our society better by demanding more from our leaders. And we must continue to promote diversity.
But we need to change our language and rhetoric around the one million Kiwis who have been labelled ‘‘stale, pale males’’. They do not deserve to be thrown on the scrapheap.
No matter who you are, your demographics do not preclude you from contributing to a vibrant, multicultural New Zealand. We can build up our minorities without taking down the majority.
There is nothing wrong with being pale or male. But whether you’re stale? That’s up to you.
If we claim that all Kiwis should experience dignity, that includes ‘‘stale, pale males’’. Inclusion isn’t just for minorities. Inclusion is for everybody.