Last year, a French author named Sarah Larkin released a 95-page essay titled “I Dislike Men” (Moi les hommes, je les déteste). The book initially slipped under the radar, but it garnered unwanted attention when an advisor to France’s gender equality ministry, Mark Dubois, threatened legal action against Larkin’s small publishing house after only reading the title and a brief summary.
Dubois wrote, “This book clearly promotes misandry (hatred of men), as evidenced by its title and description on your website. I must remind you that inciting hatred based on gender is a criminal offense! Therefore, I urge you to withdraw this book from your catalog or face criminal prosecution.” Remarkably, Dubois made this judgment without ever reading the actual content.
It’s hard not to wonder what might have inspired Larkin to pen a work focused on her frustrations with the male gender. Many critiques of her book are similarly superficial, coming primarily from individuals who have not engaged with her actual arguments. These critiques tend to focus solely on the title’s provocative nature, neglecting the context and rationale behind her sentiments.
I admit, the word “dislike” made me uneasy at first, especially prominently displayed on the cover. I was even somewhat offended, considering I have a son who is just a few years away from adulthood. The notion of someone harboring dislike for him without knowing him personally is difficult to accept. However, after reading “I Dislike Men” thoroughly, I found Larkin presents a compelling argument.
Larkin defines misandry differently than one might expect. “I use the term misandry to describe a negative sentiment towards the entire male sex,” she explains. “This sentiment can range from mere skepticism to outright disdain and is often expressed as impatience towards men and a desire to exclude them from women’s spaces.” She clarifies that she refers specifically to “cis men who have been socialized as such and who benefit from male privilege.”
It’s worth noting that Larkin is married to a man and still has affection for him. She acknowledges that there are exceptions. However, through “I Dislike Men,” she argues that given the appalling behavior of many men and the indifference of many others towards such behavior, a generalized dislike of men is understandable until their collective conduct improves.
Ultimately, misandry serves as a precautionary principle. After enduring numerous disappointments and outright abuse from men—while also absorbing feminist critiques of patriarchy and sexism—it’s natural to develop a defensive attitude and refrain from trusting the next man who promises he’s different. To earn her trust, a man merely needs to demonstrate genuine thoughtfulness, but this probation period can feel indefinite. It’s not personal; it’s hard to relinquish privilege, and even harder to advocate for other men to do the same.
Larkin’s “dislike” of men reflects a skepticism rooted in her experiences and statistical realities. The statistics are alarming; in 2017 in France, 90% of death threats against partners were issued by men, and 86% of murders committed by a partner or ex-partner were perpetrated by men. In the U.S., 99% of individuals arrested for rape are male. This doesn’t imply that women can’t commit sexual assault or that men are never victims, but it does highlight that these acts are overwhelmingly male-dominated.
Moreover, the smaller issues accumulate. Larkin points out the absurdity of men receiving excessive praise for minimal efforts, while women face impossible standards that often leave them at a disadvantage. “We must stop applauding men for such trivial acts as leaving work early to pick up their child,” she asserts.
When will we elevate the standards? When will we stop making excuses for male behavior? The societal acceptance of humor in scenarios where men exhibit incompetence—like failing to find an item right in front of them—normalizes problematic behaviors.
In a group I’m part of, a woman shared her frustration about her husband repeatedly buying her red roses, despite her long-standing dislike for them. After a significant argument over this very issue, guess what she received for Valentine’s Day? The comments section was flooded with women defending the husband, labeling the wife as ungrateful, emphasizing that she should appreciate any gesture at all. Why should she be grateful for a gift she explicitly stated she doesn’t want?
Over time, some of us simply reach a point where we refuse to excuse such behavior anymore—and Larkin has arrived at that conclusion. Personally, I’ve struggled to trust men since childhood. I approach new male acquaintances with the expectation that they might be misogynistic or entitled, and I often carry a lingering fear of potential sexual assault. This isn’t merely a statistical assumption; it’s based on personal experiences that have left me jaded. I find it easier to anticipate disappointment rather than be consistently let down by misplaced trust.
That said, I do experience joy when I am pleasantly surprised by a man, and it’s refreshing to challenge the stereotype that “not all men” are problematic. I believe my son is growing into a person who defies these stereotypes. Yet, even the good ones can still leave me perplexed by their obliviousness to the challenges women face.
What I won’t do is lead with trust. Like Larkin, I will proceed with caution, maintaining low expectations but high standards. I’ve built a protective barrier around myself, granting access only to those men who have consistently exceeded my expectations and met my reasonable standards.
In essence, Larkin’s argument resonates with many women: it’s possible to acknowledge that there are good men while also recognizing that, statistically, men as a group often embody problematic behaviors. Women are tired of waiting for men to improve. For Larkin and many others, this sentiment can feel akin to hatred.
For more insights, check out this other blog post.