Irini Georgi

Irini Georgi

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How did the manosphere become so popular?

Between the panic that all incels will turn into femicide perpetrators and the humor offered by alpha male influencers, let’s take a moment to understand why this is happening.

The global rise of feminism through pop culture and social media opened doors for many women’s communities. Women found empowerment spaces, gained platforms to speak, and for the first time, the world was (somewhat) paying attention. And the general message was “men are trash” for reasons we all know (which of course doesn’t mean all men, or that they are actually trash). But many men started feeling targeted.

Even worse, they felt marginalized. The manosphere was never made for handsome, wealthy men, but for the underprivileged—those who felt excluded from the dating scene (basically from sex), from relationships, and from love. For men who are poor and considered unattractive, and who are mostly not highly educated, it seemed like some kind of solution.

These men may have experienced rejection or even contempt from women in their lives, and haven’t processed the pain. Many may not have even dared make a move toward women, because they lack basic social skills. According to manosphere advice, all one needs is confidence, to lightly insult the woman, and to speak in riddles—then you can get any woman into bed.

These underprivileged men have been experiencing what’s been called the “male loneliness epidemic” for years. And they’re suffering. They needed someone to listen to their problems, someone to speak to them, when Hollywood, flashy influencers, and mainstream culture left them out. They needed guidance. There was a huge gap in the market.

And it didn’t take long for something to fill it. It started in gaming forums, and then expanded to other forums (4chan, Reddit), where they shared experiences, thoughts, and feelings—and this was genuinely positive, because many young men who had lived in social isolation finally gained a sense of community. They needed support—and they found it.

With the rise of video content, some figures stood out and became influencers. Some, like fitness influencers, pivoted into this niche because it was so lucrative. That’s how we got people like Jordan Peterson, who came with the seal of academic legitimacy (though he’s now been cast out of the academic community). He sensed the market demand for male role models and pseudo-scientific authority, exploited it, and became famous.

The problem is, instead of identifying the real enemy behind male oppression—which is The System, specifically Capitalism and Patriarchy (and White Supremacy)—they decided their enemy was feminism. In a distortion of reality, they use feminist arguments to convince their audience that men are victims of feminism. They quote stats on suicide, depression, addiction, etc., as proof. But they refuse to see that it’s patriarchy, the man-box, and the demands of stereotypical masculinity that are to blame.

They don’t blame patriarchy—because that would mean relinquishing privilege and comfort. So it’s more convenient to blame women and feminism. Why? Because feminism gave women the ability to survive without marrying, and the choice to not pair up with men they don’t like—in other words, not with them, the men who believe access to sex should be their right. So, feminism, and anything progressive, is the enemy.

And because a return to “traditional values” implies conservatism, all of this became embedded in alt-right rhetoric (which is not “alt” at all, but far-right). It became a package deal. While the manosphere crowd believes it’s unfair to have to pay for a woman’s coffee if they manage to get a date, at the same time they want right-wing politics and hate woke culture.

They don’t see the truth. And it’s ironic and tragic that they see as an enemy the very movement that is actually on their side—the movement that could genuinely improve their lives. Not by offering them sex. But by offering collective healing tools that could make relationships with women possible.

History of the Manosphere

It began in the early 2000s as a collection of blogs, forums, and YouTube channels focused on men’s issues. At some point, it started to function as a counter-movement to feminism.
The term “manosphere” emerged around 2009–2010 to describe the online ecosystem where these ideas developed.

Its foundations were built on older men’s movements, like the Men’s Rights Movement (MRM) from the 1970s–80s, which focused on divorce, child custody, and false rape accusations.

2000s–2010s:
Pickup Artists (PUA) led by gurus like Neil Strauss with his book “The Game”, which taught men how to “seduce” women—basically by saying things like “I like you, even though you’re a bit chubby” to get them into bed.

Mid-2010s:
The rise of Red Pill ideology (named after The Matrix), promoting the idea that men must “wake up” and realize that women actually hold power in society, while being inferior, dirty, immoral, etc.

2016–present:
Incels—the evolution of Red Pill thinking. Men who hate women and feminism for denying them access to sex.

MGTOW (Men Going Their Own Way):
Men who completely give up on the idea of relationships.

Connections to the far-right, white supremacy, anti-LGBTQ, and anti-woke rhetoric grow.
We see the rise of the “hustler” ideal through crypto culture—the man who makes loads of money and has as many women as he wants, using and exploiting them like objects. (See: Andrew Tate.)

Core Beliefs:

  • Biological determinism: Gender roles are biologically predetermined, and it’s foolish to try to escape them.
  • Men as victims: Men are the oppressed ones; we live under matriarchy; feminism is misandry and “feminazism.”
  • Cheap self-improvement: At the beginning, there was talk about self-care, confidence, and fitness—but misogyny got way more views. Over time, self-improvement shifted from a process of inner growth and healing into a performance of dominance and control. Instead of fostering emotional maturity, it became a show—a curated display of masculinity, power, and “social value.”
  • Monetization: Enter hustler culture, with millions of desperate men paying for subscriptions to ridiculous “gurus” offering seminars on how to get women or make money—naturally, with little to no real results. The promise was always the same: quick success, sex, power. The reality? Usually full of disappointment and burnout.

Impact

  • Connection to violence: Incels who went out and shot people (e.g., Elliot Rodger, 2014).
  • Platform bans: Reddit, YouTube, and Facebook started limiting manosphere content (2018–2020), but TikTok let them run wild for far too long. In 2022, Andrew Tate was banned, but he remains a legend, with countless others trying to take his place.
  • Legacy: There are still online corners where the manosphere thrives, but it’s no longer quite as “cool.” The “gym bro podcasts” are everywhere, but they’ve become meme-worthy. The slightly more polished successors of this ideology have shifted to life coaching and dating coaching, always with an emphasis on confidence—but still rooted in the same old worldview.
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The Netflix series we needed

I made a video a while ago where, at the beginning, I mentioned that teenage boys can be somewhat scary and intimidating to women. A lot of people were outraged in the comments—why was I saying that? What did I mean? I explained:

“Teenage boys go through a phase where they need to prove their masculinity to one another and to the outside world. It becomes a performance, a spectacle, and unfortunately, this often translates not just into shouting loudly and swearing but also into harshness—because that’s what patriarchy has taught them. That sweetness and kindness are signs of feminine behavior and weakness, things to be avoided at all costs.”

In the introduction of my book, Who Women Want, I say that not all women want the same thing—because women are people. They are not bees with a hive mind.

The closest thing to a hive mind isn’t found in women but in boys growing into men. Not because boys are less intelligent or because they are simple creatures—none of that nonsense, don’t worry.

It’s because of the man-box. These characteristics that become the “masculinity meter,” the standard by which boys measure and evaluate one another, and anyone who deviates is pushed to the margins. That’s why breaking the cycle of stereotypical masculinity is so difficult—because of fear. Boys are constantly weighing and testing one another in a relentless effort to prove they are “man enough,” so they don’t fall in the hierarchy and risk being ostracized. Keep that word in mind.

Sophisticated, educated (or posh) types like us, who stand on the other side and fail to see the suffering of boys, who only see the shouting, the swearing, the bullying, and the behaviors we label as “toxic masculinity”, we bear responsibility.

We are the ones who use difficult words like ostracized and exclude them, and right when we talk about dismantling privilege, we flaunt it.

The anger toward difficult words reminded me of a play I watched last year that had me crying from start to finish: Another Thebes. It reminded me of a young man I once dated. We’d met online—our lives ran on parallel tracks, and we would never have crossed paths in real life. I called him The Bronx. I’d written about him:

“His vocabulary consists of about a hundred words. He’s uninterested in anything beyond his own life. He doesn’t read, gets bored even watching movies, and finds nothing enjoyable except women, motorcycles and food. We have absolutely nothing in common. He constantly insults me, belittles me, and sometimes it’s exhausting.

But I ignore it. I don’t know how I realized this, but I know he doesn’t mean any of it. And I don’t take it to heart, which even impresses me. It’s like he has to say these things, so I don’t think he’s ‘soft,’ so he appears strong in my eyes, to maintain some invisible, unknown standard that I can’t even fathom. He insults me and I tell him I want him. He replies with a hundred kisses, tells me he’s thinking of me, then insults me again—then says he wants to hold me tight.

He would get angry whenever I used difficult words—angry at me even though he was actually angry at himself.

One day, we had ordered pizza. We were sitting on the bed, and he was still eating. At that moment, I had let my guard down, and without thinking, I reached out and stroked his beard. It lasted a few seconds. He turned to look at me. Oh shit, I messed up, I thought—he’s going to have a go at me.

Instead, he said, ‘Irini, I have pizza, music, and you stroking my beard. It doesn’t get much better than this. I don’t know how I’ll ever get over it.’ And he didn’t say it sarcastically. But of course, right after that, he took it back and started insulting me again.”

Sometimes, you get a glimpse of the boy beneath the mask. Sometimes, they show it to you on purpose—because they know that you, the overly emotional woman, crave to see it. It’s precious to you, and you’ll do anything to protect it. So they show it to you in order to take advantage of you.

But sometimes, they can’t control it, and the mask falls. And beneath the man, there is the boy.

“Do you like me?”

That desperate need to be accepted and loved—a need that both men and women share. But men are only allowed to satisfy it through sex. The fact that they aren’t allowed anything else destroys them—because on some level, they know.

They see what they’re missing. They see the magical world of women, full of sharing, emotion, and touch that isn’t shameful. They see it through the glass, like The Little Match Girl, and they know it’s not for them.

A tenderness they can’t touch. And that makes them angry, but with a rage that has no clear target. They don’t know how to be angry at society, and they’re not yet capable of being angry at themselves. (That comes later—with addictions, gambling, substances and other self-sabotage and self-destructive habits).

So they get angry, because anger is the only negative emotion men are allowed to express. But beneath the tip of the iceberg, it’s not anger. It’s sadness. It’s grief. It’s the pain of losing something they never had, but could have had, if only they weren’t required to be men.

And when women deny them sex, the only form of intimacy they’re allowed to seek, that makes them even angrier. A rage that terrifies women, forcing them to live in fear. And so they get angry too. They insult men—all men—because they want to stop fearing them. And men, in turn, get even angrier, hating the women who reject them because they fear them. Many find comfort in the arms of the manosphere.

Even when they’re in relationships, many men only get a fleeting glimpse, just a sliver, of what true freedom could feel like. The freedom to not constantly fear your own shadow in a world that judges you by how masculine you appear to be. The freedom to be accepted as you are, to be told you are enough. A mere idea of what love might feel like. But that light and brilliance scare them because they’ve spent their whole lives in the dark.

They become avoidant. The tenderness of staying is unbearable. Just as they get close, they pull away again. The light is not for them. They prefer to keep a safe distance, wearing loneliness as armor, fortified in their stronghold of self-sufficiency and autonomy. This is the prison of masculinity—even within a relationship, even within a marriage.

I’ll bring money home and protect you (from whom?), and you’ll have food ready, sex available, a clean house, and care for me when I need it. Closeness and connection, in moderation, because it is blindingly terrifying.

And women are left with bitterness, which is a mixture of pain and shame. The bitterness of an overflowing river of tenderness that has nowhere to go because the one it’s meant for refuses to receive it, except as home care or emotional labor. Tenderness that freezes and hardens instead of flowing from its spring.

The light is not for them—unless they were lucky enough to have parents who had all the colors on their palette and the willingness and ability to paint outside the lines. The invisible privilege that becomes a kaleidoscope. Parents who were emotionally present. Parents who were intentionally boring. Parents who were generous givers, both in words and actions, of love and attention, love for who you are, not for what you achieve or accomplish. Predictably, consistently, unwaveringly.

Except for the rare few who managed to do it alone, even with parents in the grey. The greatest challenge is transcending masculinity itself. It’s what we beg men to do, but they won’t do it just because we beg. No matter how much we beg. It’s a singularity—a space-time anomaly. They need the right stimuli at the right moment, repeatedly, aligned with a sequence of experiences that slowly confirm an initially vague and unformed idea: Maybe something in the world we know isn’t quite right.

And once the singularity occurs, it takes effort—an effort few are willing to make. It takes curiosity. It takes time. It takes energy. But above all, it takes what we hear in therapy: lean into the uncomfortable. To lean in and sit with discomfort. Until it becomes familiar. Because new ideas and beliefs can be uncomfortable at first—like new shoes. You have to try them on, walk in them, break them in until they become part of you, fitting you perfectly, until you never look back. Not just because you chose them, but because if you ever try to wear the old ones again, you wonder how you ever endured the rotten soles and the holes that let water seep in.

“How did you feel when your father looked at you with shame?”
We talk about the male gaze toward women, but not about the male gaze toward men. The gaze that measures and evaluates. Are you man enough? And so many boys, so many men, feel ashamed of the male gaze upon them—because it finds them lacking, because ithe man they look up to is ashamed of them.

Shame—not for something they did, but for who they are.

“I don’t deserve hot chocolate; I shouted”
I don’t deserve that much grace. I don’t deserve that much kindness. I don’t deserve love for who I am because I am not good enough. Something inside me—or about me—excludes me from the privilege of being loved for who I am. Something, sometime, made me believe this. And I will carry it all my life, and so will those who come close to me. And if I don’t let it go, it will define me until I die. Or until I destroy another life.

“We have to accept that we could have done more.”
From this story, you will remember the boy. But you must also remember the father. He was as good as he could be, but he should have been better. How could he be better with the father he had? I don’t know. I do know that masculinity is a generational issue—and a social one.

We should have done more. Who? All of us.

Parents must be present. Teenagers must question their parents, they must stop seeing them as gods and recognize them as flawed human beings. And parents must accept this loss and step back, slowly, carefully, with a steady love and unspoken safety nets. Because only then can children move forward and surpass them.

The debt is not to the past but to the future.

The debt is to the next generation. But what do you do when the next generation moves backward instead of forward? When it rediscovers lies we thought we had left behind, repackaging them in new, shinier package, this time not in books no one will read, but in short-form videos with millions of views. Coated in baby oil on the arms of alpha male influencers on TikTok.

We were not prepared for this.

Parenting is the hardest job in the world, yet everyone is doomed to do it as an amateur. Clumsy, awkward, imperfect—at best. Or much, much worse. No matter how many resources, books, and mental health professionals exist, there will always be a gap in understanding. The world of teenagers will always be a mystery to the world of adults.

We were not prepared for the fact that while a child sits quietly in their room, staring at a screen, their life might slowly be unraveling. Invisibly. Silently. And boys have been taught not to ask for help. Why? Because they have to be men.

We should have done more. Who? Everyone. Children are not raised by their parents alone. They are not raised in a bubble or a greenhouse. Every child is shaped by every classmate and, therefore, by every parent at school. They are shaped by everything they see or read. By every celebrity who becomes a role model. By social media. By pornography. Every child is raised by society. We all take part in raising them. We need to do more.

 

 

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Comedy & Woke culture

comedy woke

After watching a humorous video about a femicide, I found myself repeating the same points to people who argued that this particular topic “is not something to joke about.” Many of my followers thought I would agree.

Many people believe that we shouldn’t make jokes about such tragic events. That’s not true—and not just because I say so. It’s not true because comedy isn’t what you think it is.

Comedy is a weapon of the oppressed against the oppressor. It is a weapon in times of war. It makes the all-powerful enemy appear ridiculous and vulnerable; it gives strength to the frightened and wounded, even when they are doomed. Laughter has always been the resistance of the weak against the strong.

In peaceful times, comedy is a tool that helps democracy function. It does the necessary (and sometimes dirty) work of holding up a mirror to society, exposing the rot beneath the surface, the absurdity within institutional frameworks, the irrationality in “normality,” and the injustice intertwined with privilege and excellence.

That is what comedy is supposed to do. In the femicide case the video was based on, it was essential to expose the absurdities of the system, which they tried to pass off as efficient and effective, simply because “protocols were followed”. That “inappropriate” funny video exposed incompetence, inhumanity, and the tragic way the judicial system fails women.

Comedy can be about anything—as long as it’s on the right side.

And who decides what the right side is? The ones sitting at the bottom of the hierarchy. The right side is on the side of the weak, the oppressed, the unjustly harmed, accused and wronged.

And what makes a joke funny?

A joke is about the unexpected within the ordinary, about subversion, about stereotypes, about timing and rhythm, about repetition, about countless elements that will touch an audience and grant them that precious little mental orgasm. But that’s not our concern here.

Yes, a joke can be at someone’s expense. It can mock misfortune, pain or weakness, appearance, difference or anything that deviates from the “norm”. But it can also rise above. It can tame or even eliminate fear. In times of war, caricatures and sketches that ridicule the enemy were invaluable for keeping morale high.

Beyond war and imagination, in comedy, nothing resonates as much as a true human experience. As much as a story. On some level, we are still gathered around a fire, telling stories. The most important raw material for jokes is personal experiences—the deeply comedic and futile nature of the human condition.

And this is a more significant message than “haha, he fell and got hurt.” It’s that despite our differences, we are more alike than we think.

In stand-up, the comedian puts themselves on display, exposing, opening up, self-deprecating—the joke is at their own expense. You see reality from their perspective, through a peephole you would normally never have access to. They make you laugh at their misfortune, their weaknesses, their fears or failures; they put you in their shoes. You realize that no matter how different they are, you have felt that way too. You can relate.

And then you no longer have to pretend that you’re perfect or that your life is flawless. You can admit that you, too, have weaknesses, quirks, flaws, little disgusting thoughts and habits you fear no one could ever love you for. We’re all like that. And even though we try, we all fail sometimes. Sometimes, we do so spectacularly. But it’s okay. In the end, we survive. If you manage to laugh at who you are or what has happened to you, it means everything will be alright. That’s a great comfort, and it brings Others—whoever they are—closer. Because “they’re like me, I’m like them.”

We owe gratitude to comedians who decode reality, destigmatizing our weaknesses and making the issues that weigh on us more digestible—issues no one wants to sit down and discuss seriously, because true vulnerability is hard (especially for men).

A comedic creator can shine a light on aspects of reality we take for granted, aspects that go unnoticed. Through a well-structured joke, they can talk about a “difficult” and taboo subject without alienating people. They can create a new perspective, a new way of seeing something, they can open a new window.

A comedic creator can show you that things are neither as they should be nor as it makes sense for them to be. That if you look at them a little differently or in their exaggerated form, many of the things we accept without question, are surreal and irrational. And maybe—just maybe—they shouldn’t be that way.

Comedy can hold up a mirror to society, showing it its reflection, its arbitrary rules, its obsessive fixations, its flaws, and its incomprehensible choices. With the hope that if we see them, we might want to fix them. Does that sound like propaganda? Maybe it is.

Good comedy can be a means of social awareness and change.

Jokes become the knife that peels away the layers of reality, the chisel that hammers and breaks layer upon layer of entrenched beliefs that perpetuate inequalities. Humour is invaluable in resisting injustice because it redefines reality. Especially on issues of diversity, sexism, and racism, it is the perfect vehicle.

On the other hand, stereotypes are essential in comedy. You can’t build a joke without talking about things around us—familiar ideas, recognizable characters, and relatable situations. Otherwise, no one will get the joke. But a comedian can take these well-known and familiar elements, highlight them, exaggerate them, flip them on their head, and ultimately prove how flimsy they are—talking about them in a way no one has before.

A comedic creator can use stereotypes to dismantle them.

Mark Twain once said that humanity has only one effective weapon: laughter. Laughter can fight evil in a peaceful yet powerful way.

Imagination and science fiction, as Ursula K. Le Guin once noted, offer alternatives to the present, existing world. The most important thing, she said, is to provide a fictional yet convincing alternative reality—one that shakes the mind out of its lazy and timid habit of believing that the way we live now is the only way people can live.

She went on to say: This inertia allows unjust institutions to continue existing. The ability and willingness to imagine alternatives to reality as we know it, is always the first step toward making different, better realities possible.

Imagination allows us to envision a better world and a different reality, but comedy shines a light on our own reality and exposes it—showing us how to question it. Because if you don’t question, there’s no reason to envision something new.

Until just a few years ago, we laughed at comedic takes on the differences between men and women. Generations have laughed at gender stereotypes, and many people still do. But the time has come when fewer and fewer people find them funny. The subject has become outdated. More and more people are aware of sexism—they understand that patriarchy is responsible for men and women being trapped in roles they never chose, and they recognize how much harm that causes.

We are entering an era where it is far more interesting to see comedy that focuses not on the differences but on the similarities between genders—and on how we all suffer under patriarchy.

What we laugh at, is a cultural barometer.

If stand-up comedy isn’t your thing, think about the phrase “I have no problem with gay people; I even have gay friends.” The fact that this has become a sort of meme, repeated as a joke, is progress.

We are on the road to change when reality itself starts to appear comedic.

Comedy is a way of awakening—a way of being present in the world you live in. A way of calling things by their real name. But hold on—that’s exactly why many old-school comedians condemn political correctness. Because “it doesn’t let them express themselves.”

But political correctness and woke culture are actually a gift to comedy. Because they prevent humour from staying at a superficial level and push it to dig deeper and seek substance.

In comedy in general, but especially in stand-up, the further back you go, the harder it is to find old jokes funny—even from legendary comedians. It’s difficult to see what made them so ground-breaking at the time. A fresh perspective on reality doesn’t stay “fresh” for long. If it’s successful, it gets repeated, copied, and serves as inspiration for others—eventually becoming normal or even outdated.

Newer generations build upon the insights of the old, taking them for granted, and climb even higher. Higher and higher. That’s evolution.

A truly great comedic creator understands this. If they want to be timeless, they seize the momentum. They become one with the present—mirroring the pulse of now.

Good comedy doesn’t punch down—it punches up.

If it talks about women, LGBTQ+ people, marginalized groups, minorities, or any kind of diversity, it draws humour from their truths. And it awakens the audience to the rotten ways in which society treats them.

A joke that serves up reheated clichés like “you women always…” gets less and less laughter. The old stereotypes of comedy simply aren’t funny anymore. The jokes that shake the foundations of the establishment, that challenge conventions and what is taken for granted, are the ones that leave a lasting impression.

Right now, great comedy is a form of activism.

Of course, a joke is just a joke. Whether it’s good for its audience and its time is almost self-evident—it’s proven within fractions of a second. If it gets a laugh, it’s good. Not all comedians are obligated to change the world or heal society. But if they want to, they can try.

There’s an episode of Esther Perel’s podcast featuring Trevor Noah—actually recorded live—where they talk about the role of comedy in dark times and tragic situations.

Trevor mentions that laughter, as an emotion, is one of the few things that can steal power away from pain.

But the best part is when Esther shares a story. Years ago, she worked on a theater project based on real testimonies—an artistic resistance against political violence. She collaborated with a group of Chilean resistance members who had been imprisoned and tortured in isolation under Pinochet’s regime.

Her team approached the project with deep seriousness and humility, striving to capture the horror of the situation with strong moral messages.

When the Chileans came to watch the performance, they told the team:

“Everything was great, but you missed the most important part.”

The team panicked. Oh God, what did we leave out? What did we overlook?

“Humour,” the Chileans said. “Do you think we survived solitary confinement by being serious?”

comedy woke

Κωμωδία & Woke κουλτούρα

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Men & Vulnerability

A challenge for men

Vulnerability has become the new buzzword in relationships, much like “empathy” was a few years ago. Since women overwhelmingly seek therapy and counselling to explore and understand their emotional inner worlds, there’s growing pressure on men to evolve emotionally to avoid being left behind.

However, this request often falls flat. While men may desire the courage to embrace vulnerability, as it sounds promising, they often grapple with internal resistance or societal expectations of masculinity. Traditionally, vulnerability suggests weakness, and it’s defined as being exposed to the possibility of physical or emotional harm.

Historically, male roles centered around strength, protection, and provision. Being asked to show vulnerability can feel like a threat, clashing with ingrained narratives of masculinity that discourage anything perceived as weakness. Failing to meet these standards often triggers fears of rejection and social exclusion.

Survival strategies from prehistoric times taught men to assess each other for weaknesses, as any sign of frailty was seen as a liability to the group. Such men were undervalued as partners and were in risk of losing social standing. This evolutionary instinct still prompts men to conceal any perceived vulnerabilities.

Brené Brown, known for her research on shame, redefines vulnerability as uncertainty, risk, and emotional exposure. Her perspective reveals the courage required to engage in vulnerable acts. Demonstrating bravery garners respect and admiration, not just from other men but also from potential partners, aligning with cultural “warrior” archetypes found in myths worldwide.

Today, many developed societies enjoy unprecedented physical safety, diminishing the need for male protection. Ironically, men now feel inherently vulnerable because the traditional protector role is less relevant. The diminished need for male protection challenges their sense of value and purpose, sparking a broader identity crisis.

Men’s existential need to be needed is significant and documented. Studies in the U.S. show that messages like “No one needs me” and “I’m worthless” are common themes in men’s suicide notes. Women’s economic independence has also shifted traditional dynamics, reducing men’s role as providers. Adjusting to this cultural shift in just a few generations is no easy feat.

Vulnerability is often misunderstood as merely expressing deep emotions, but it encompasses much more: asking for what you want, setting boundaries, requesting help, trying new things despite the risk of failure, and approaching a potential partner with the possibility of rejection.

In essence, vulnerability surfaces whenever our identity faces potential challenge or risk.

 

The value of vulnerability in relationships

In intimate relationships, vulnerability fosters closeness, a vital element for healthy connections. Sharing your truth invites genuine connection and builds trust. Revealing our authentic selves signals that we have nothing to hide and pose no threat.

People often conceal their truth in order to maintain a sense of control and security, avoiding discomfort. Healthy vulnerability requires discernment—knowing what to share, with whom, and when. It’s part of personal growth, pushing us beyond our comfort zones to explore new possibilities. Without venturing into the unknown, we miss opportunities for transformation.

Vulnerability demands courage—to face fears and take leaps of faith without guaranteed safety. While falling flat on our face and failing are very real, possibilities, each attempt teaches resilience and flexibility, making future challenges less daunting.

 

Can men be vulnerable and attractive?

There’s no universal answer, as women’s preferences vary based on upbringing, culture, trauma, and personal experiences. However, one general principle holds: vulnerability expressed from a weakened, self-deprecating place often feels uncomfortable for women. If a weeping man appears unable to care for himself, let alone his partner, it can be unsettling for a woman.

On the contrary, vulnerability is attractive when it stems from a man’s empowered self. When men accept themselves and strive for growth without seeking validation, they display strength—even in tears. This form of vulnerability isn’t weakness but courage: revealing imperfections without collapsing or begging for approval.

True vulnerability is an act of bravery, a willingness to take risks despite insecurity. By embracing this mindset, relationships can flourish, allowing deeper, more meaningful connections. Without such openness, relationships risk stagnation, becoming dry and unfulfilling.

Emotional closeness is the essence, the magical elixir that reveals the other person in their multi-layered wholeness and helps keep the relationship alive.

Vulnerability isn’t easy, but that’s its nature. Men can choose to remain attached to outdated standards of masculinity or become part of the new generation of men who opt for equal, mutual, and authentic relationships.

 

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The truth about the bear dilemma

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Irini Georgi

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bear dilemma barbie

The truth about the bear dilemma

So much has been written about the bear debate, and yet the conversation kept on, fuelled by men’s reactions. Why is it that so many men find it impossible to believe that this conversation is even happening?

Men who use all caps on social media, mad with frustration:

“But bears are dangerous! How can you not understand that? They can kill you! Why would you choose to be alone in the forest with a bear instead of a man?”

The answer is “so that you wonder why”. So that you ask yourself why. Because it’s a question that needs to be asked—and more importantly, reflected upon.

Why would a woman say such a thing? Could something else be at play, rather than the naive belief that bears are cuddly like Winnie the Pooh or fluffy plush toys? Could it be that this conversation isn’t about bears at all, but about men?

Could this be a sequel of the #MeToo movement, which, after the rejection of Harvey Weinstein’s conviction (because there were “too many” victims), didn’t achieve what it had promised?

Maybe the conversation that #MeToo started needed to go on, and a bear just happened to be passing by. The hero we didn’t know we needed.

Of course, those who react to the bear issue believe #MeToo had gone too far. On this, there’s a quote from a Guardian article on the #MeToo’s aftermath following Weinstein’s overturned conviction and the [then] likelihood of Trump’s return to the presidency. It says:

“The only thing that’s gone too far about MeToo, is the hypocrisy of suggesting it’s gone far enough.”

The bear was just a means to an end. Hopefully, we’ll find new means every so often, to keep the conversation going.

The bear memes are endless but the arguments supporting the bear choice are clear:

  • Because the bear will recognize I’m human and probably won’t bother me if I don’t bother it.
  • Because bears rarely attack humans, unlike men.
  • Because everyone will believe me if I say a bear attacked me.
  • Because no one will ask what I was wearing if a bear attacks me.
  • Because no one will ask if I’d been drinking if a bear attacks me.
  • Because no one will ask if I “led it on” if a bear attacks me.
  • Because no one will ask if I mentioned having a boyfriend if a bear attacks me.
  • Because no one will ask if I’d had a past relationship with the bear if it attacks me.
  • Because no one will say I was “asking for it” if a bear attacks me.
  • Because no one will ask if I screamed for help when the bear attacked.
  • Because no one will ask if I fought back enough against the bear.
  • Because no one will ask if I tried to reject the bear politely.
  • Because no one will question if I was too polite, making it seem like I consented.
  • Because the bear won’t violate my corpse after killing me.
  • Because no one will say, “Impossible, I know that bear, it’s a nice guy.”
  • Because the bear won’t say, “Serves you right for choosing a man over me.”

All these arguments make perfect sense in our society, where rape culture is the norm. But this isn’t about bears.

The arguments about the bear are really about men. And this conversation will remain relevant as long as people react so strongly. If one in three women had been attacked by a bear, no one would deny there’s a problem. But the conversation isn’t about bears.

If you’re a man, don’t focus on the bear. Look at yourself. Look around you—your friends, your conversations, the “locker room talk”. Reflect on what you’ve said or done in the past. Consider what you’re saying and doing today. How much safety do you inspire? How are you contributing to making the world safer for women?

Don’t look at the bear. Look at the forest.

Don’t look at the bear. Look at yourself.

 

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Taylor Swift, dating, politics & cats

Taylor Swift’s proud self-identification as a “childless cat lady” in a post supporting Kamala Harris over Donald Trump, is both a sign of the times and a milestone.

Women are becoming more politically engaged than ever, on a global scale, and increasingly progressive, as they finally realize that the personal is political and that their hard-won rights, achieved through pain and struggle, are never entirely secure.

The Economist’s article “The Growing Gulf Between Young Men and Women” describes the phenomenon of the political gap between young men and women.

Even though for the incredibly beautiful and wealthy Taylor Swift, the statement is neither brave nor risky, but provocatively and defiantly ironic, it signifies the official reclamation of the term “cat lady”. It opens the door for every woman to embrace it fearlessly because, for many, it’s the best possible alternative.

Every day, there are men who tell women who dare to deviate from societal stereotypes and expectations—or who simply refuse to stay silent—sarcastic and mocking remarks like, “you’ll end up alone with your cats.” Perhaps it’s time they rethink this “joke” and start wondering why women are choosing cats (or dogs or succulents) over the available men.

The era of women feeling ashamed for being alone with their cats is over. It is now a conscious choice. They evaluate the men available and choose to stay out of the game.

So let’s reconsider the cat-lady stereotype and whom it really insults. Because for women—who, throughout history, could never freely make this choice—it is an earned victory.

  • When you gain education, you reject people who deny science and those who are racist, homophobic, intolerant, and bigoted.
  • When you read more, travel, and broaden your mind, you may reject organized religion and the Church.
  • When you work and become financially independent, you reject men whose only offer is financial support.
  • When you develop class consciousness, you reject conservatives and far-right ideologies.
  • When you undergo feminist awakening, you reject misogynists and sexists—even benevolent ones—because you want to be seen as an equal human being, not a delicate flower or an ethereal creature.
  • When you learn about healthy relationships and what constitutes abuse, you reject controlling, jealous partners who try to dictate your life and mould you into what they want.
  • When you go through therapy, you reject emotionally unavailable partners—or at least you stop torturing yourself trying to make such relationships work. You stop telling yourself you can survive on crumbs. You want it all or nothing.

And sometimes, you end up alone. But this solitude is hard-earned. It is costly and precious, even if it hurts. However, you might have a soft, purring kitty in your lap.

 

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Positive Masculinity

The term “toxic masculinity,” used in public discourse over the past few years to describe problematic expressions of stereotypical masculinity, is toxic in itself.

We don’t want to tell men that masculinity is toxic. We want to tell men that many of the ways they were taught to act and things they were taught to do to prove they are men, are problematic. They don’t need to prove their masculinity to anyone. It’s undeniable. There’s no need for a “masculinity meter.”

We often talk about redefining male identity, free from patriarchal stereotypes. A male identity that is not inherently tied to believing that femininity is inferior. Masculinity free of misogyny, homophobia, transphobia, or violence. Masculinity where vulnerability and the full spectrum of emotions are allowed, not just anger.

Yes, true masculinity—free from patriarchal demands—is closer to femininity than we’ve been raised to believe, but it still has differences. Positive masculinity is courage, bravery, a protective instinct, kindness, fatherhood, calculated risk-taking, and the pursuit of resources and creating for the benefit of family and society.

From a biological determinism and evolutionary perspective, yes, men have evolved to source and produce more resources than they need, to ensure survival for others. Movements like the Manosphere and MGTOW (Men Going Their Own Way) are contrary to their nature.

To find meaning and purpose, men need to feel needed.

In this era of the male loneliness “epidemic”, as documented by global statistics, the most common words written in the notes of men who took their own lives were “useless” and “worthless.” Feeling needed is a fundamental aspect of masculinity and crucial for men to feel they belong in society.

Men need meaningful relationships in their lives—with women and other men. Traditionally, they’ve relied on women to handle relationships while they were just “there,” never learning how to create and nurture these connections.

Now that women live independently, single men experiencing the economic crisis are becoming isolated, turning to numbing coping mechanisms like gaming, pornography, and substance abuse. They feel lost and they let their lives go to waste. This affects millions of young men and harms society as a whole.

We need to stop blaming men and recognize that the societal expectations from them have changed so drastically and rapidly in the last decades, that many of them couldn’t adapt.

They were raised for a role that no longer exists. Now, they must create a new role for themselves, find their place in society, and learn things they were never taught—starting with emotions and meaningful relationships. Because both society and women, we need good men.

Note 1:

“Positive masculinity” is not a formal term. Just as we’ve grown used to negatively labelling masculinity, we now need positive descriptors, images, and examples of it. If masculinity could embody these traits, we’d live in a safer world for all.

Dividing human traits into “male” and “female” categories was a huge mistake. Women have been allowed to adopt “male” traits, but men are forbidden from adopting “female” ones, leaving them broken. This concept is inspired by relational therapist Terry Real, one of the first to discuss stereotypical masculinity and patriarchy, and its damaging role in relationships.

Note 2:

Public discourse on these issues is gradually changing, requiring a modern perspective. When I started talking about rape culture, in 2016, I realized the end goal shouldn’t be to educate women, but men. Until then, this was seen as a “women’s issue.”

Jackson Katz’s work gave me the authority to say, “This is a men’s issue,” because he, a man, had said it first about male violence. We need to talk to men. Even if they’re not to blame, they must take responsibility for fixing what’s broken. They need to speak to other men and serve as positive role models.

Men also need empowerment, though this may sound absurd to the primary victims of patriarchy—women. But this is now a reality. There are countless organizations, movements, and content empowering women, but for men, there are only alpha male influencers and alt-right misogynistic rhetoric.

These are the only voices engaging with men, worsening the situation. Many men feel hated for existing. They’re not pursuing education, they’ve lost their hopes of high earning careers, and they are vulnerable, isolated, and lost, especially after economic crises. Yes, they’re vulnerable—they’re committing suicide at alarming rates.

It’s not any woman’s job or responsibility to fix this. But society has to and we need to be talking about it. I coach women who want to connect with men, and right now, these men are what’s out there. We have to find solutions.

 

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What is feminist dating?

Irini Georgi

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What is feminist dating?

The term “feminist dating” is a bit cringe, I know, but it’s only temporary. Because dating needs updating. As we know it, it’s old-fashioned, archaic and problematic, based on ideas and ideals of the past.

 

A little of the 1800s, where the man had to be a gentleman and the woman a “lady”. A little of the 1950s, with the man being a provider and the woman a virgin and home maker, a little of the 70s sexual liberation, meaning sex before marriage is allowed, but women can’t have a body count over 5 or they are cheap sluts. A little of the 80s and 90s, when we read on women’s magazines “10 ways to drive him wild in bed” -just the man, because female pleasure was too complicated and the clitoris a mythical organ like the horn of a unicorn, and on top of that, you’d better fake an orgasm to look cool and make the man feel good. At the same time, we had the idea that women are supposed to play hard to get, so no means yes, so out of the window goes consent.

 

Add a dash of porn culture, where abuse becomes the norm, and throw it all in the dating apps mixing bowl. The cocktail is toxic. That’s why I decided to write a book and start a movement redefining dating between men and women, so that it’s healthy, fun, equal and mutually pleasurable. Feminist dating is the dating you want, even if you still haven’t come to terms with the word “feminism”.

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How to avoid the Friendzone

Friendzone

Irini Georgi

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Friendzone

How to avoid the Friendzone

Feminism rejects the friend zone concept and rightly so, as it’s used by men who pretend they want to be friends with women they are attracted to, in order to enter their circle, gain their trust, wait until they’re feeling vulnerable and then try to get them to have sex with them. This is lying, manipulation, betrayal and, of course, misogyny. I’m not talking about this. What I am talking about, is the accidental friend zone, when you didn’t take action and show initiative early on, and then you find the momentum is gone. That said, here’s my advice.

1. Start as you mean to go on

Yes, it’s scary and you risk rejection, but you need to communicate your romantic interest sooner rather than later. This can help avoid misunderstandings and mixed signals, and show her you’re not just looking for friendship.

 2. Be clear but not creepy

Don’t stop being friendly and smiley, many men turn creepy when they want to express interest. Build a special connection, flirt, be funny, compliment her or, even better, tease her lovingly (meaning without impacting her self-confidence, it’s called benevolent teasing). Ask her out making sure she understands it will just be the two of you.

3. State your intentions

Expressing your feelings directly is the ultimate challenge. If you want to minimize the risk, try asking “have you ever wondered what we’d be like as a couple?” or say you had a dream that you two were kissing. You’ll judge if it’s a good idea to proceed by her reaction.

4. Respect her decision

If she doesn’t feel the same way about you, you have to accept her choice and respect her boundaries. You can do this by giving her space and focusing on yourself, on your hobbies, or meeting new people.

5. Time to move on

If you have feelings for someone, it’s very hard to stay away from them, especially if they seek out your company. But remember, if you like them romantically, it’s not friendship. You’ll be torturing yourself if you try to remain friends, and it will keep getting worse. Do yourself a favour and move on.

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Dangerous masculinity role models

Toxic masculinity
Artistic portrait of shirtless muscular male with burning dumbbell.

Irini Georgi

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Toxic masculinity

Dangerous masculinity role models

I have made it my life’s mission to talk to men about feminism. It’s not that easy, though. You see, men don’t listen to women, especially women who talk to them about feminism. The problem is that men listen to other men. And you know what kind of men talk to other men? Let me tell you.

You probably know Jordan Peterson. The handsome silver fox who in another life we might have called daddy, who is clever and charismatic, and used to sort of make sense, even though he was terribly selective in the research he used to support his arguments. He just loves to talk about the biological differences of the sexes and how different men and women’s nature is, you know, the usual kind of stuff boomers say, but in the last few years, I almost worry about him. (I mean, even the best of us are in therapy to resolve issues with our mother and grandmother, and even the best of us cry all the time, but I don’t cry that much in front of the camera even when I talk about the hundreds of rape stories women have confided in me).

I don’t know if Peterson really lost it or if he’s doing it because every time he cries on camera he wipes away his tears with hundred dollar bills or for a completely different reason. I suspect he may be in the category of those who started their online career relatively modestly, and gradually became radicalized by their own audience. Yes, radicalization doesn’t just happen from the creator to the audience, it also happens the other way round and it’s a very interesting phenomenon that to a small degree, happened to me too. (To the left, to the left).

In the manosphere, in particular, many started out as, say, fitness coaches talking about squats and protein, and because of the public’s thirst for edgy content, they turned it into misogyny, alt-rightism, and machismo.

All the way to the dystopia of Andrew Tate. Who openly told young men to rape women to put them in their place, and the man wasn’t just talk, he practiced what he preached, he even had a trafficking gig. Talk about authenticity, living the criminal dream.

Tate was hugely influential but no longer exists on the internet. He had been cut from all social media except for a brief reappearance on Twitter, in which, thanks to the genius of Elon Musk, his account had been reinstated, but enter Greta Thunberg as a goddess ex machina, and he was sent to prison.

The thing is, Tate was just the tip of the iceberg. There are thousands of neophytes out there who want to be Tate in Tate’s place, and they’re doing everything they can to make it happen, because they know there’s a gap in the market and they are aching to fill the hole.

Tiktok is filled with would-be Taters (I don’t know if the word exists), telling fifteen-year-olds to be “real men”, to take steroids to get big, to stop whining, to stop acting like little bitches, to learn how to make money online, (probably by scamming 12-year-olds), to invest in crypto, and if they are in their twenties, they are worthless if they don’t have a lambo. A Lamborghini. In their twenties. In this economy.

Taters pop up on social media like dick pics in the dms of girls with pics in a bikini, and they constantly talk about what it means to be a man, which in their worldview is to be a gym bro, make tons of money, not talk about feelings and other simp stuff like that, be angry all the time and view women as holes, unless it’s time to procreate. (Even then, women won’t be real people, but household sex robots who cook, clean and provide sex and care).

Taters become pop sensations who actually influence millions of teenage boys who see a video first, and then another pops up on their feed, and another, and another, until they believe it all and adjust their idea of reality through the distorted filter of what we call problematic masculinity.

Men, especially young men, are in dire need of guidance. They are desperate for guidance from almost anyone to help them make sense of a changing world, a world where what they were taught as children, no longer seems to apply. They lived through the MeToo movement and saw women angry, and their immediate reaction was “not all men”, meaning defensive or passive aggressive, but that’s not enough anymore. They are becoming openly aggressive.

—

“How dare women be angry when it’s them who have all the privilege? The whole world tries to take care of them and protect them, how many women have you seen doing manual labor in a blue-collar job? They don’t have to go to war and they get saved first if the ship goes down.

But worst of all, these dirty hoes deprive Good Guys of sex, since none of them agree to have sex with me. By what right, you b*tch, do you say no to a Good Guy?

And they talk a load of nonsense about “patriarchy”, as if it’s not them who have the upper hand and have turned men to beta subs. They talk about “rape culture” as if we don’t all condemn true rapists, they say they don’t like wolf-whistles, then why did you wear that skirt you slut? To top it all, they say genders are more than two, all that woke bullshit, libtard feminazis, that’s what they are.

They say masculinity is “toxic” and they pretend they’re into dudes you can’t really call men, sissies, pussies, simps and beta males, who talk about their feelings and cry like little girls, all soft and weak, who will never be real men.

Because real men aren’t like that. They are tough. Strong. Powerful. Dominating. They don’t need to talk much. They’re alphas. These are the kind of men who win at life. Everything else is lies and propaganda, for a new order of things where men will lose their hard-earned rights and will be emasculated in childhood, growing up like girls, lest they express their true male biological nature. Whatever woke crap they try to sell us, is part of their Plan to feminize men, and the real man must resist”.

—

And resist they do. They resist by turning to neo-conservatism, i.e. alt-rightism, i.e. the far right, and misogyny. They desperately seek to belong and feel like they fit in a society that is changing at a swift pace, and where progressives laugh in their faces and call them uneducated fools. All they have left is hatred and resistance to anything progressive. They in turn mock and curse progressivism, because it is the only way to exorcise their fear and the threat that no one needs who they are anymore, no one needs what they were taught to be. Because the masculinity they think is pure and authentic, is an insidious social construct.

The trend is ubiquitous. The amount of misogynistic comments I get on Tiktok is heartbreaking. I do find them interesting, from an anthropological and sociological point of view, but what saddens me is that we could talk about so much more complex concepts, like analyze Barbie and beauty culture from a post-feminist and capitalist point of view, or redefine masculinity and deconstruct the male experience at a time when the delusion of patriarchy as a logical structure of society is being shaken to the core. But no. Still, after all this cultural shift, mentioning the word “femicide” or saying that a joke might be sexist makes you a feminazi. Honestly, I miss the dialogue we could be having.

Masculinity is in crisis and we don’t have enough positive role models of evolved masculinity. Modern masculinity. You know what we have? We have Bedros Keuilian. A pumped up Russian-American entrepreneur who has built an empire based on men’s need to belong, and to regain a sense that the masculinity they know still has value. Keuilian offers many services, he is also the writer of a book called “Man Up”, but the most infamous of all is the Modern Day Knight Project, which trust me, has nothing to do with romance or magic.

The MDK Project is a 75-hour bootcamp for the ultimate alpha male. Keuilian says “some would call it torture, but I call it opportunity”. Men go and pay money to have some ex-military dudes with muscles and cigars force them to roll in mud for three days, (we’re talking lots of mud), on wires and rocks, to hike up mountains loaded with gear, roll in mud again for long distances, while they are being bullied, screamed at and put through frat style hazing. They don’t let them sleep, they make them do drills that simulate Navy Seals’ Hell Week (that none of them have trained for), they nearly waterboard them, and even make them dig their own graves and lie in them until they nearly suffocate. A man died the 5th time the program ran. Of course, everyone has signed a liability waiver.

Do you know how much they pay for the privilege of doing the MDK project? Eighteen thousand dollars ($18,000).

If I wanted to laugh I’d say that’s the gayest cry for help I’ve ever seen, paying to be soaking wet for three days lying in ditches next to other sweaty men, that’s the only horse shoe theory I can subscribe to, because otherwise you’re better off paying a dominatrix to put you through this, it will be cheaper and in the end you could have sex if you want, but I don’t think you care about that at all.

But it’s not funny. What is the least funny of all, is that they have also created the Squire program for teenage boys, from 13-14 years old. They send the boys along with the fathers, so that the boys can become “men”. (Because normal childhood trauma isn’t enough, so let’s add some more for good measure).

In fact, the benefits of the program include “he will no longer behave like a child”. The narrative is chillingly accurate from the opposite side of our worldview. It’s that society wants boys to be weak and soft and that Hollywood portrays the male ideal of the submissive loser, so you need to protect your son from the feminization they want.

“They” refers to us who want kids to be kids. “They” refers to us who want men to be whole humans. Because patriarchy has drawn a vertical line down the human condition, and has decided on this side are the masculine traits: strength, protection, power, logic, and on this side the feminine: sweetness, care, communication, emotion. But women are allowed to borrow a bit from the masculine side, because for a woman, aspiring to be more like a man is positive, while for a man, wanting anything to do with femininity is shameful.

The point is not to be a man in touch with “your feminine side”. There is no feminine and masculine side. The point is to be whole humans, to live the full spectrum of humanity, or we condemn ourselves to self-mutilation and life in the prison of patriarchy. Stereotypical masculinity wants men to live half lives.

We have to protect our boys. Girls may be at risk from the beauty standards of Instagram and Tiktok and from the oligarchy of expected femininity, but boys are at risk of losing their very humanity at the altar of masculinity.

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