If the future is female, where does that leave men? At the bottom of several socio-economic indicators, apparently: less likely to do well at school, more likely to leave the job market altogether, more likely to die from so-called “deaths of despair”. How did this happen? What can be done about it? Richard Reeves, a British-American policy wonk, makes a modest contribution here with his recent book Of Boys and Men.
In the mid-20th century women finally earned a public standing and economic independence apart from their husbands. They no longer had to step into a predefined role—mother and homemaker—but could choose professional careers the same way men could. Today, women are the breadwinners in 41% of American households.
The decline of traditional marriage and its implied covenant between the sexes meant the end of a certain expression of masculinity, what anthropologist David Gilmore calls “man-the-impregnator-protector-provider.” That role, a natural counterpart to the mother/homemaker, was the obvious, acceptable outlet for male energies, and marriage helped mould men into it, binding women to men, but also men to women—and to their children—making them useful within the parameters of a “special moral system” which ensured a “voluntary acceptance of appropriate behaviour in men.” (34) Though women have largely moved beyond the expectations of their sex, men have not. They remain stuck in the grooves of this cultural pattern, even when it is no longer a guaranteed path through life.
There are also biological factors at play. Men are more likely to take risks than women, and show more aggression at all stages of life, including infancy. This has an evolutionary explanation: being less likely to reproduce than women in general, a risk-taker was more likely to pass on his genes, and with them, his neurological predilection for risky behaviour. This was a clear advantage in his distant Savannah homeland, but in the orderly modern-day classroom or office, it probably works against him.
Disadvantaged men have been largely immune to policy initiatives that should have helped them. One programme in Fort Worth, Texas, designed to support students at risk of dropping out of higher education, tripled degree completion rates for women. For men—who were the most likely to drop out in the first place—it had no effect. Likewise with the Kalamazoo Promise in Michigan. Since 2005, graduates of Kalamazoo’s public schools have had their College tuition fees paid for them by a group of anonymous donors. After this program was established, the number of women obtaining a bachelor’s degree increased by 45%, while for men it stayed the same. These are but two examples drawn from Reeves’ own research (he lists at least 7 others).
If men are the most likely to drop out of higher education, why would programmes designed to help at-risk drop-outs not affect them? There could be several reasons. The first is that most of these outreach programmes don’t do anything: they are a complete waste of time and money for everyone involved. The second is the relative lack of male authority figures in the systems designed to help them:
When a program relies heavily on a close one-to-one relationship, matching the gender of the provider and recipient may be important. This is consistent with research showing that when the racial or gender identities of teachers and learners or mentors and mentees match, results are often better. (75)
(I guess there is something to be said for this. I have no idea if my experience is typical, but when I think of every teacher I liked or learned a lot from, I realise all of them were men, even though most of my teachers were women.)
Reeves also posits an “aspiration gap” between men and women. In the words of Tyreese, a Kalamazoo college student interviewed by Reeves, women at that age are driven, independent, and persistent, willing to seize opportunities and think in terms of the future. Their male cohort, by contrast, live mostly in the present, unmotivated and aimless, largely uncertain of who and what they want to be.
The last factor is the change of economic conditions in the 20th century. Women benefitted: now they could work, especially in service, care, and information jobs. Men did not; they lost their privileged position in the economic sphere of life, but they also suffered when manufacturing jobs went overseas (trades training programmes are, coincidentally, some of the only policy initiatives that have a positive effect on men). A 2015 report from the Council of Economic Advisers, analysing the trends of the second-half of the last century, concluded that the majority of income gains for middle American families were due to the rise in womens’ earnings; in other words, the growth of mens’ wages in middle American families was negligible.
Based on all this, Reeves offers up a few of his own suggestions. The first is to begin convincing people that this is even a problem. Those motivated by gender equality typically focus on positive outcomes for women, sometimes to the exclusion of men, who may be doing even worse on the same metrics. To take one of Reeves’ examples, the White House’s Gender Policy Council, (re)-established in 2021, emphasises the need to reform school discipline policies to help Black girls, while failing to mention the specific challenges of Black boys, who are twice as likely to be suspended or expelled.
The manner in which this book is written—cagey, cautious, a bit over-careful—might be taken as evidence that progressive attitudes are becoming just as stodgy and stuck in the past as the misogynist patriarchies they displaced. Reeves is a good, balanced writer; nobody could accuse him of over-stepping his mark, yet even he feels the need to tread lightly, so as not to transgress feminist pieties. His point is not that we need to turn back the clock—that is neither desirable nor possible—it is simply that gender inequality can run in both directions. If if they are to complete the goals of mid-century feminism, policy planners need to start acknowledging some of the unique disparities affecting men specifically and to redress them.
Certain aspects of the schooling system would need to change. Reeves wants more men teaching boys, and more integration of trades and vocational training within the curriculum. His most intriguing idea is to “redshirt” boys: to start them at primary school one year later than girls. The idea here is that they will have more time to develop the pre-frontal cortex, the part of the brain involved in impulse and risk management, which tends to develop faster in girls than in boys. Some evidence from parents who voluntarily redshirt their children suggests that it has an especially positive impact on boys.
As it stands, men largely don’t work in the kinds of jobs where they end up mentoring boys. That will also need to change. Reeves envisions a new, positive vision of masculinity, affirmed in the so-called HEAL jobs (health, education, administration, literacy). In the same way women moved into the jobs dominated by men, so must men move into the jobs dominated by women, to complete the “gender desegregation of the labor market.” (151)
These are substantial changes. They are, at bottom, social and culture issues. Because policy initiatives tend not to budge such deep, intrinsic motives and values, it is hard to imagine how these changes could come about. What would be required to make a generation of motivated boys go into nursing and teaching, rather than programming and building? Reeves sticks largely to what is evidenced within the realm of policy-making. This makes for a focused, well-argued book, but the end result is perhaps a little bit too lean, a little bit too polite and restrained concerning the status quo.