After the attacks by Elliot Rodger and Alek Minassian, the world began to ask, “What are incels?” Reactions ranged from incredulous to furious to sympathetic.
I knew incels.
Maybe they didn’t identify that way, but I knew men who felt entitled to sex and believed that they had been targeted by feminists to live a sexless existence. I knew men who had a permanent disgust for women, who believed them to be worthless, who felt that they did not nothing but hurt men. They abided me because I shared enough of their hobbies — largely male-stereotypical such as geekdom and games.
When they learned I was a feminist, they turned on me. My friends turned on me. Their hatred of feminists overcome their affection for someone they’d spent hours with.
I would have helped them if I could. I’m no one to give dating advice, having failed at dating most of my life, but I would have tried. But I was the enemy because I felt that women didn’t owe men sex. Because I felt that women were unfairly blamed for the world’s ills, demonized as liars and manipulators.
Now before you commenters descend with cries of, “But why do you hate men?!”… I fucking don’t. I love men. I have dear male friends. My partner is a man. My father is a man. And I respect the work of many men. I simply don’t think that anyone owes anyone else sex or…
