Why Most Women Seem to beTaking Their Chances With the Bear
I wrote this draft earlier this spring and nothing ever came of it, but I thought I’d post here instead of it just sitting in a Google Doc.
As far as internet trends go, this topic is old news now; months have gone by. But I still see mention of “Choosing The Bear” and I don’t see that completely dying out any time soon. So, here goes:
The question “Would you rather be stuck in the woods with a man or a bear?’ and similarly phrased variations went viral this month, prompting controversy and heated arguments. It is hard to recall this much virtual dissent since the ‘Is this dress blue or gold?’ fiasco. Debates have saturated popular social media platforms, often eliciting hundreds of comments per post. Views on the issue seemed divided almost entirely along gender lines, with nearly all responses from women naming a preference for the animal and most responses from men showing incredulity, defensiveness or hostility.
I understand why many men bristle at the bear selection. I usually try to look at both sides of any argument, whether I relate to it or not. And as a Black woman who grew up in Detroit, I know firsthand what it means to battle negative stereotypes, for my demographic to be lumped together as a monolith, for people to make unfair assumptions about who I am and what my predilections are. And I am fortunate enough to have a wonderful husband, father and older brother, and to know other great men. However, even as I find it unfair that men’s confusion has been dismissed as mere chauvinism, I do ask that men try to suspend this disbelief (or worse, ire) and instead attempt to understand the climate that has fostered women’s mistrust of this theoretical man in the woods. What is being called misandry is really more akin to abject fear.
Women are taught to assess their surroundings and who is in our vicinity at all times; circumspection is the default. This not only keeps us safe, it can keep us alive. Letting our guards down could be the end of us. We don’t walk the dog once it gets too dark outside. We text friends our dates’ license plate number before we go out; awkward conversation over cocktails is the least of our worries. We hold our keys close to us as we walk swiftly through parking garages. We don’t take our eyes off of our drinks. We offer each other advice on where and whom to avoid to steer clear of danger. We are threatened or even shot at for spurning men’s advances. We are stalked, harassed, followed, chased. We duck into nearby stores and act as though we are conducting business in an effort to curb unwanted attention, or resort to hiding outright to wait out an unrelenting pursuer. We hear stories or trade stories or become stories of monstrous men, and because of this we know what some of them are capable of, what grisly fate awaits us if we cross one of their paths. We grow up and have daughters and admonish them too: Half the human race poses a potential threat. Not an actual threat, but potential. And that is enough. Bears are more predictable, many say. We know what to expect. Or, If we play dead, a bear might go away; a man might be encouraged. For some, it seems, taking one’s chances with a man is like reaching into a box with your eyes closed and not knowing what you’re going to pull out. Or in the tone of Forrest Gump “Men are like a box of choc-lates…” To be cautious of men is our birthright. It is instinct. For man, not beast, is our greatest predator.
For many women, being alone in the woods with a man brings worry of sexual assault (and given that it happens to one in four women — and that’s only reported cases — that concern is not unfounded). And many women on social media also cited victim blaming and how, for example, even if they were killed by the bear, at least no one would ask what they had been wearing. There were other hypothetical examples of varying post-mortem justice but the assertion was clear: we would be seen as less culpable in our own demise with the bear. But then there is also the stuff of headlines and horror movies: Bundy-like bloodlust and murder, dismemberment. Being held in captivity. Torture and Cannibalism. The people who perpetrate these reprehensible actions live a among us. Sometimes they are easy to spot, other times they are men with families, clergymen, friends of ours, dates, colleagues and employers in the private and public sectors. This is a reality that insists on our attention. The tendency to see most people as inherently good is a luxury not afforded to all women. Or at least, not one that all choose for themselves.
In what may be deemed a betrayal to my sex, I would not choose the bear. This may come as a surprise, but I would actually take my chances with someone of my own species with whom I could possibly build allyship, possibly reason with, possibly outrun if the need arose. I live in the Pacific Northwest and enjoy nice hikes, so I do find myself in the woods from time to time. However, I cannot brainstorm ideas with a bear or exchange survival strategies. If I perish, the bear cannot tell my family I said I love them. The bear will not help me shout for help, or hunt for food; huddle together for warmth or build shelter. The bear cannot offer something as simple as conversation to avoid going insane. With the bear I am guaranteed to have no one, in isolation. At least with the man I may have a companion. Perhaps choosing the man would prove a naive, even fatal mistake, but I like to think most men would not harm me. And to be sure, bears do pose a threat. But regardless of my personal stance, I cannot ignore that there are many of men in the world who would likely harm me. And that is a terrifying and sobering thought. So: I get why the bear gets the benefit of the doubt, why a lot of women would choose the grizzly over the guy. And I hope the men reading this will try to reflect on why so many ladies would willingly face the overwhelmingly large creature capable of outrunning and mauling them.
Vitriol-laden exchanges and ad hominem attacks are never helpful, from any side. And we shouldn’t demonize all men, just as we shouldn’t demonize other groups (police officers, immigrants, etc) . “Not all men,” the post-#metoo leitmotif, likewise emerged in this discourse. And of course it’s not all men; I’d wager that women on either side of this issue already know that. But there are enough of them out there that a bear is voted a more welcome companion, even in one of the bleakest of hypotheticals.
