Not all men, but always a man: seeing our blind spots.

This became clear to me this weekend once again. I was cycling with my girlfriend during SAIL near Amsterdam Central. It was crowded, and a man, around fifty years old, was walking right in the middle of the bike path. When my girlfriend pointed out to him that he was walking on a bike path, he gave her a firm smack on the back. I was riding behind her and saw it all unfold. I tapped the man on his shoulder, but I had already lost my self-control. I shouted at him: “How dare you hit her like that?!”

My shouting was a welcome diversion for him. He could easily deflect the real issue at hand, by telling me to calm down and not to yell so much. Of course, he never answered my question. Looking back, what was left was a feeling of regret. Not because I lashed out at the man, but because I never got around to asking the one question that really matters. A simple question with, for many men, a very complicated answer: why do we think we have the right to be the boss over women?

And yes, it is true that this man could just as well have given me (a man) the same smack on the back, but that is not the point. The starting point of his action is different. This is the blind spot of men, individually, collectively, and as a society: we do not realize how our behavior impacts women. At one point my girlfriend asked the man who had hit her: “Do you find it normal to touch women like this?” To which the man replied: “Yeah darling, I do this every day.” Even if he meant it cynically, his answer shows, especially in a week like this, the imminent blind spot of men once again.

Comedian Peter Pannekoek once said: “Do we, as men, ever truly realize what it’s like to live with another sex that is physically stronger? And that while most men ask things nicely, there are always those who think: I am stronger anyway, I will just take what I want. Especially after drinking, they are quicker to push themselves on others. And they are everywhere: at work, on the street, in bars, in clubs. All day long, women are forced to calculate: Does this man have the right intentions, or am I in danger?”

This behaviour shows up in different forms, from the darkest intentions such as the headlines this week (and every other week before), to the “less dark” intentions like the smack my girlfriend received, to unintentional actions with supposedly good or thoughtless intentions, simply because we fail to put ourselves in a woman’s position.

For example, a little over a year ago I was in an almost empty night train carriage with just one other woman who was about my age. I was fairly drunk and just felt like having a chat, otherwise I would only be staring at my phone. But very quickly I noticed her discomfort. Not surprising, if you consider that a survey by Pointer a few months later showed that 82% of 7,400 female respondents said they feel unsafe on public transport. Let alone in an empty carriage at three in the morning. My intentions were not bad, but in that moment I did not put myself in her position at all, which is in fact the basis of a good, fun, but most of all equal conversation.

We all like to think we live in a safe country, but safe for whom? A large-scale European study from 2024 shows that gender-related violence is relatively common in the Netherlands compared to other European countries. It was not any different in 2014, when an NRC article already revealed that the Netherlands ranked fourth among European countries where women reported experiences with physical and sexual violence. Of all women murdered between 2014 and 2023, more than half were killed by a (ex-)partner (femicide). To frame this overarching problem as an immigration issue, as Wilders and co are now eagerly doing with the horrific murder of Lisa, is far too simplistic. The real problem is rooted in our culture, in how we look at women and, often unconsciously, how we treat them.

Another example: Raye’s show during Lowlands this year. When Raye became emotional after performing Ice Cream Man, a song about sexual abuse, violence and rape, inspired by her own experience when a music producer put his hand between her legs, a guy standing behind my friend shouted: “What an overreaction, what’s with the crying? Performing is her job, why does she need to get so emotional? I don’t cry at work either.” A major blind spot, if you ask me. Especially when you saw that almost half of the Alpha stage, where Raye gave her performance in front of 30.000 people, cried along with her. Some were swept up in the moment, but it is highly likely many cried because they had lived through something similar themselves. Chances are he never thought about that, as he probably never had to.

But also look at how quickly we welcome back men convicted of physical or sexual violence against women. That deserves serious questioning too. I am all for second chances and I myself stood at Frenna’s show at that same Alpha stage at Lowlands this year. But how must it feel for women who have experienced sexual harassment or violence to see so many people gather for Frenna, who was arrested in 2016 for having sex with a 15-year-old girl and distributing images of it? Do we even think about that while singing along to Pink Summer? Sure, 2016 was a long time ago. But what about Lil Kleine, who already seems to be getting booked everywhere again? How must that feel for women who suffered domestic violence, or above all, for the woman in question?

It is too easy to only point at the extreme cases, the rapist, the murderer. Everyone condemns them. But that is not where real systemtic change starts. This starts much closer: with yourself, with your friends, with the joke you shrug off, with the behavior you excuse as supposedly “harmless”.

So my message is simple: do not merely look at what others do wrong, but look at your own blind spot. Call yourself out, call your friends out, but above all, try to put yourself more in a woman’s position. Same goes for myself, and I’ll probably fail along the way a couple more times. But, for example, if you are walking home late at night and there is a woman walking in front of you, either cross the street or slow down. This way she does not have to think a little less about whether or not she’s being followed.

Real change does not come on its own, it starts small. And if through small things like these we can already make women feel even a little bit safer, a little more seen, what is stopping us? It is a small effort compared to the heavy price women have already been paying their whole lives.

Words by Dylan Duijkersloot

Extra info: Normally, Meikejentjes writes our blogs. When @dylanduijkersloot (one of the people behind was.utrecht) asked her to shed some light on the tragic events of the past week, she immediately agreed. But then, while he was out with his girlfriend this weekend, something happened that made him rethink that request. What is happening in our society is not (just) a women’s problem, it’s a men’s problem. A problem where women pay the price. That is why he felt it made sense for a man to write something, in the hope that it will encourage other men to reflect on their (unintentional) behavior. In the blog/article below, Dylan reflects on their blind spot when it come to men’s behaviour towards women, and attempts to get his fellow men to pause and think about their role in the bigger picture, maybe some more or maybe for the very first time.