If you had asked me as a kid, did I actually enjoy those sorts of games, is that how I actually wanted to be treated, was it fun for me? The answer would be a resounding no. You smile, you laugh, you put up with it. And deep down, I hated it. Because I didn’t have a choice about it. And I never took solace in doing it to someone else smaller than me, like a lot of kids do as a way to cope with it and participate in the “fun”, partly because it was hard to find someone smaller than me that wasn’t at least five grades younger, and partly because I knew I didn’t like it, so anyone else I did it to probably wouldn’t either, so why multiply sins?

If you’ve never had to live with being the person who has to play along with things you don’t like, but have no power to stop, you probably won’t get it. Most women do, because almost all of them have been in that position a lot. Tall, strong men tend to really not get it. It’s just fun and play for them. On the rare occasion a situation comes along where they’re the helpless ones, they hate it. They can’t stand the reversal. They’ve never had to be the weak, helpless toy for someone else’s amusement. And they get super angry and resentful.

It’s hard not to see this in the attitude of men in general any time they’re forced to confront the chance of someone doing to them what they’re used to doing to everyone else. They get super defensive and resentful, because they’re not used to dealing with the reversal and seem to think that their size, strength, or gender affords them some sort of fundamental right or majesty to do whatever they want to someone who has less of those qualities than themselves.

That’s why I’ve never had a hard time believing women about the kind of negative sexist attitude they say that men treat them with. I’m a man, and that’s exactly how they treated me. Minus the sexual aspect, but with extra violence. So even the simple game of forcing someone to hurt themselves has never seemed very amusing to me. I’ve been reduced to an object of amusement, I’ve been forced to feel and experience things I very much didn’t want to. I’ve been humiliated and hurt.

And not only by boys, by girls too. That’s how small and easy to push around I was. There was so much opportunity in my weakness that even those who weren’t particularly strong could take advantage of it. And even fairly nice peole did so, often not even with any real ill intent. Just casually, for fun, not really thinking about it from the other side.

And I’m not saying all men are awful, but this is something many men need to admit we struggle with. There’s a proprietary instinct in men, a tribal, animal prejudice that makes us feel that if you’re stronger or bigger, you should be allowed to push around the weak and make sport of them. That the chief should be allowed to have what he wants and do what he wants and not be subject to the rules and reprisals that govern lesser men and women. If he wants to break the rules or laws, treat some people, lesser men or women as objects, that’s ok. That’s one of the perks. It’s good to be the king.

As men, we excuse it maybe because we hope, in our own way, to get the chance to be the king ourselves. We listen to the rich, the powerful, the strong, simply because they are rich, powerful, and strong. We’re afraid to question them or call them to account like a normal person.

And let’s get this clear. I’m not innocent. Neither is anyone else. We’ve all contributed, in one way or another. We’ve all treated people as objects, as less than ourselves, made use of them for our own amusement or pleasure or to make us feel better about ourselves. Men, women, all of us. We have all been the victim, and we have all been guilty. We’re all desperate to do it to someone else, lest we find someone else doing it to us. And we chase security, wealth, power, prestige, respect, all to keep us on top, to keep from being the victim, the pawn. It’s time we admitted that it’s just a part of us as humans, so we can see it and call it out when we see it. So we can admit it and do better when someone tells us they’ve been hurt.

I can understand the fear many men feel. There’s a deep fear of the criminalization of something they feel they can’t change about themselves. It’s part of their instincts. They didn’t ask to be men; it’s just how they found themselves. With strength, with aggression, with sexual desire. They don’t know how to be and not be those things. That’s how they were made. So they get resentful. Because to them, it’s not just an indictment of some action that goes too far, it’s an indictment of who they are, fundamentally. It’s an attack on men. They understand that the desires and actions they see criminalized and demonized in certain men like Harvey Weinstein are, fundamentally, the same ones they have in themselves. In his case, unrestrained by rules, grown to terrible proportions because wealth and power removed the limits of his ability pursue them at the expense of others.

But, on some level, we’re all the same, or would be the same given the chance, given the power (even power taken for the sake of protecting ourselves or others). We all have that monster inside us, even if we never have the opportunity for it to be let loose, even if we have it caged and redirected and tamed. And to have the monster out there pointed out and reviled and brought to punishment is to be forced to recognize the monster within, to be filled with fear that, without even really meaning to, we have become that monster and will be thrown in and judged along with him.

I get it. Part of the problem is how we view evil. As something some people have and some don’t. There are “normal” people and “sick” people. I’m good. That guy is bad. No. It’s in all of us, all of it. The potential for extreme good and extreme evil. To use a neutral contemporary example, in the Lord of the Rings, the man Boromir can’t understand why they should be afraid to use the ring. Why refuse the opportunity? And Gandalf tries to explain. Nothing begins as evil, even Sauron wasn’t so. Evil isn’t this or that person. It’s not “out there”. It’s something we create in ourselves and in others. And excessive power, by removing limitations, tempts even the best intentions so easily into abuse. Gandalf would use the ring to do good, it seems like he should take it. But he recognizes the danger of power, even when used to protect the innocent.

Given the opportunity to do or have whatever we wanted, given a few bad years or bad experiences, the buildup of greed or resentment or depression or desire, which of us might not find ourselves becoming the very thing we hate? Sexism, racism, abuse (whether physical or emotional); we’re all capable of it. Given the right lever, the right pain, the right chance. It may never actually happen, at least not in the most extreme ways, but in some small way, we will all take that opportunity one day or another.

We are all subject to corruption and failure. We will all fail to treat others as people, as worthy of respect and care. We will all dismiss or use or demean or abuse someone, no matter how wonderful we think we are. So, in a way, that’s good. Because we’re all in the same boat. None of us can claim to be immune from the problem, and none of us can claim to be safe from ever being the victim. So we should seek to understand and help and sympathize with one another, in the different ways we experience and suffer from this problem with humanity.

Racism, sexism, abuse. We’re all victims and we’re all perpetrators. And we can all be better; we can all be helped. Sex or race or strength alone don’t make someone a monster. The monster is a real potential, but it all depends on our choices, on how we react and who we become. Power increases the opportunities for something good to become something terrible, but it also increases the chances for someone to do something wonderful. For strength to be used to protect others, for desire to be used to bring others closer together. Being a victim ourselves can teach us resentment and jealousy and cruelty, or it can teach us pity and understanding.

So, my point in saying all of this is to say, me too? Me too. Not in the same way as for some others. And I don’t mean to devalue the experiences of women or people of other races or to seek pity for my own experiences. I’m just admitting my own part in all of this. As a victim, and as a participant. I’m part of it. We’re all part of it. There isn’t somewhere, anywhere, or anyone that can deny to be part of it, that can deny that it’s real, that it’s a problem. That it’s our problem, the human race. And we need help. We need forgiveness. So me too.