Looking for advice. Was I assaulted?

The spurious logic of MRAs extends even to blaming women for issues quite demonstrably connected to patriarchal expectations of men, such as the pressure to be ambitious, to succeed financially, to bury their emotions deeply and to always conform to the traditional model of the stoic, unfeminine man. Feminism seeks to dismantle the patriarchy, thus liberating both women and men from its suffocating clutches. Despite this, MRAs will exploit the inarguably tragic rate of male suicide to score points against feminists, with little to no contemplation of how feminism would be responsible for those figures or why men’s loss of power is somehow felt so egregiously that it would lead to such a devastating conclusion.

Humour is a vital tool for feminists lest we lose our marbles completely when dealing with the irrational and factually incorrect bleatings of people who, among other things, argue that sexual violence statistics have been made up by feminist run government agencies to oppress man’s sexual nature. For internet feminists specifically, that has come via the use of one glorious phrase and a handful of beautiful associated memes.

Recently described in Slate as ‘ironic misandry’, images such as the above pillory the buffoonery of the MRA movement while giving increasingly stressed out and undermined women a means of laughing at the enemy. As Amanda Hess argues in Slate, if feminists are going to be accused of such a ridiculous practice (a retort which is fundamentally distracting and designed to undermine the work that feminists do), then we may as well enthusiastically embrace it to its full extent and “compete to push the idea of a vast, anti-man conspiracy to its most gleefully absurd limits”.

If the reactions of frothing, faceless MRAs who hide behind fake avatars and even faker names are anything to go by, ironic misandry is hitting them where it hurts. Nothing disturbs a man intent on retaining male power more than a woman who first laughs at him and then demonstrates his views are unworthy of her time or attention. And from my own experience, it’s interesting (while being simultaneously mind-numbingly predictable) to see how many MRAs escalate their abuse at the first sign of retaliation.

When feminist writer Jessica Valenti posted a photograph of herself frolicking on a beach draped in a jumper boasting the immortal words, “I BATHE IN MALE TEARS”, it didn’t take long for an army of MRAs to launch a full scale attack of insanity on her. Valenti (who almost certainly and advisedly ignored every last spittle-drenched rant) was accused of enjoying male suffering, of revelling in male suicide and the deaths of male soldiers (because it’s also feminism’s fault that the glorious traditions of male instigated and led wars have kept women from fighting on the front lines), of wanting to separate fathers from their children, and of being generally the symbol of a movement which would gleefully castrate men en masse and force them into chain gangs to build palaces for the female rulers of the fast approaching, murderous matriarchy.

There’s a generally understood rule about sensitivity in comedy, and it is that jokes must seek to kick up not down. Simply put, it is funny to make sport of the people and institutions who enjoy power and privilege in the world because they have not only the means to defend themselves but also the luxury of being rewarded simply for existing. On the other hand, it isn’t funny to make sport of the people on the lowest rungs of the ladder because it’s like ganging up on someone smaller than you.

The beauty of ironic misandry is not just that it acts as a release valve to increasingly frustrated feminists, it also lampoons the still prevalent stereotype of the angry, man-hating women’s libber. Rather than making fun of men in a mean-spirited or even damaging way, it makes fun of a group of people whose primary issue seems to be that they’re no longer allowed to do and say whatever they like to and about women. Those men cry themselves a lot of tears about it, and boy, do I enjoy bathing in them.