Being a “Man-Hating Misandrist” Got Me the Best Relationship of My Life

When I started dating again, I didn’t realize that being single for so long had turned me into a “man-hating misandrist.” I was merely looking for a partner who could contribute something meaningful to my life.

See, I fought long and hard for the peace I now feel.

I built my career from the ground up. I fostered genuine, fulfilling friendships. I saved every penny to buy the house that became my sanctuary. Then I saved up all over again to afford the trauma therapy that brought me back to myself —

The self I had dissociated from to escape the violence of men

My older brother refused to get help for his bipolar disorder, so as a child, I abandoned my emotions to mediate his every crisis, outburst, and breakdown.

My abuser violated me when I was six years old, so I learned that my body was not a safe place to exist.

My dad cheated on my mom, so I became wary of “nice guys” who acted on their insecurity-driven impulses instead of healing the wounds that caused them.

My best friend ended his own life, so I assumed I wasn’t worth sticking around for.

My prior boyfriends treated me less like a partner and more like a mother, so I learned to give everything of myself with little in return.

I’ve since forgiven them — all of them, for everything, because I understand that hurt people hurt people, and inherited scars run deep. But forgiveness does not mean that I’m willing to endure it again.

When I re-entered the dating game at 28, post-therapy and as a self-sufficient woman, I was determined to find a man who gave as much as he took. But most of them, I realized, weren’t interested in a woman who expected as much as she gave.

After hundreds of dates, I finally found him

This man went out of his way to make space for my needs and emotions. He showed me that my body is a safe place to exist. He was honest, vulnerable, and kind (not “nice”), and he put in the work to ensure that I no longer felt forgettable.

He also did his fair share of housework, laundry, grocery shopping, and emotional labor.

In all definitions of the phrase, this man was an equal partner.

We’ve been together for three years, and I now know that all of the heartbreak, dissociation, and healing was worth it. In a long list of men who have hurt me, he continues to be the exception.

Now, I write personal essays encouraging other women to trust themselves. To ask for better. To leave behind relationships that shrink their spirits so they can make space for their whole selves. To please, for once in their lives, put themselves first.

To prove that genuinely wonderful men are out there — but you’ll only find one when you stop accepting less than you deserve.

And in the comments sections of essays that were never meant for them, men call me a “misandrist man-hater” who perpetuates the “gender communist cult that is feminism.”

Yet I’m left wondering if misandry even exists

I’m not sure it does — at least, not in any way that poses an active threat to men.

Misandry is defined as “the hatred of, contempt for, or prejudice against men or boys.” But throughout six different scientific studies, researchers examined the stereotype that feminists hate men. Their findings? Feminists’ attitudes toward men were no more negative than men’s attitudes toward themselves.

In other words, while misogyny poses a genuine threat to women’s emotional, financial, social, and physical well-being, misandry is largely a myth.

On the rare occasion I meet a woman who actually dislikes men, her dislike doesn’t stem from malice. It stems from fear.

When a woman hates men, it’s about safety: “Men will hurt me if I don’t give them what they want.” And her actions prove it. She simply stays the hell away from them. Focuses on herself. Builds a calm, peaceful life and fills it with people who deserve to be there.

When a man hates women, it’s about ego: “It hurts me when women don’t give me what I want.” And his actions prove it.

He targets them. Blames them. Harasses them. Degrades them. Manipulates them. Watches YouTube videos about how to penetrate their protective boundaries. In headline-worthy instances, he rapes them. Stabs them. Shoots them. Anything but put in the work to make himself the type of partner women would let in of their own accord.

Of course, it’s not all men.

The man I share my life with would never dream of doing those things — but I spent years searching and vetting and decoding to make damn sure. When one in three women has experienced assault and 99% of perpetrators are men, the odds aren’t exactly in our favor.

Some would call that misandry. I call that self-preservation.

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