Over the weekend I attended the Women Of Influence in Education conference at HKIS in Hong Kong. Before I left, I have to be honest, I was a bit nervous about my role as a male educator at a “women’s” conference. My anxiety was not alleviated when I arrived and saw that I was one of three men at an event with nearly 80 participants. My female colleagues joked that everyone would know my name by the end of the weekend, which this fact did not assuage my stress. I didn’t want to be noticed.

Actually I was hoping to fly under the radar and simply listen and observe. While it definitely felt strange eating meals, riding elevators and being involved at table conversations with all women, I looked forward to reflecting on this discomfort, knowing that many women I know, have been in situations throughout their lives where they are the only woman in a room.

There is value in tackling your privilege head on, by putting yourself in situations where you can build empathy for people who have been marginalised. When people tell you they are not being heard and feel marginalised, the best response should not be- “yes you are being heard,” or “find a better way to be heard and/or speak up.” A better response might be to listen better, amplify their voices if you can and be an ally.

I have so much to say about my weekend, that it feels a bit intimidating deciding where to start. I guess the most basic point I want address is how inspiring it was to be around so many talented, smart and powerful women. It was eye-opening to watch women work without men around. I hope that we all strive for a gender equal world, a place that is inclusive and understanding to women, POC and the differently abled, and while there is value in having conversations together, it is equally important for these groups to meet on their own to work out their ideas and plans. So let me say that it was an honour to be invited and included in these conversations.

Another place to start this reflection is to answer the question I heard most often, “What brought you here?”

There is no easy way to answer that question. At one of the sessions led by the formidable and amazing Maddy Hewitt, the executive director of NESA, we were asked to map our journey of what brought us to gender equity work. Because sharing my journey seems like a good of a way as any to frame my thinking, for the next few paragraphs I will use my story as a way to explain what has brought me to this work in general and this conference specifically. Before I continue, let me say that the irony of turning this conference about myself is not lost on me. My female friends often tell me how often men tend to turn everything about themselves. I hope reading about my path will help you understand what brought me to this conference.

I don’t think any explanation of our values can begin anywhere but our childhood experiences. I am an only male child of Iranian parents who immigrated to the US in 1979. Despite the stereotypical thinking of Iranian men, I was not raised to be the prince of the house. My mother, an independent and strong woman, was deliberate in not “spoiling” me. Her influence from an early age was instrumental in making me who I am. She was a role model for me from an early age, showing me the quiet strength of women and their ability to hold families together, show love, start business and get the things done that need to get done.

My parents separated and eventually divorced throughout my childhood, but my mother always did what she had to do to keep me fed, clothed and loved. She worked several jobs at times, helped with homework, took care of our house and did her best to be present and instill values in me that I cherish to this day. My mother was my first feminist role model, not in anything she explicitly taught me or any proactive agenda, but by simply being herself and raising me as an open minded, and I hope a generous, kind man.

As a child I was a quiet slightly effeminate boy who preferred the company of girls. Many of my early friends were girls who allowed me to be myself without the pressure of constantly proving my masculinity. Middle school and puberty were a shock to my system, as my behaviour and attitudes could be mistaken for homosexuality, which at the time was not something a thirteen year old boy wanted to be, especially when the strong urge to be accepted and popular overtook my life. Middle school was a time of lonely reflection and planning for a different future. On a side note, my feelings of not be included and noticed by my teachers and classmates is a major reason I got into education. I had very few male role models during this pivotal time in my life. My father was an influential force in many ways, but the constant fighting and arguing between my parents was more confusing than helpful in helping me understand gender issues.

High school was a time of transformation and identity building. I found a few friends and our band of misfits did our best to create our own cool. Despite my earlier thoughts, this time demanded a more masculine being. The constant talk of girls and sex and power rankings among other boys forced me to become a typical man. Drinking power shakes with raw eggs, lifting weights and joining the football team, were ways that I tried to build my masculinity. Without too many male role models, my interactions with girls became more sexual and less conversational. Like most adolescent males, I didn’t have too many relationships with girls that were not based on mutual interests and understanding. It was all about how can I appear attractive to the girls with which I interacted. Early exploration with alcohol did not help me learn to be open and honest with the girls I interacted with. In short, I didn’t understand girls. I had no idea how to talk to them without alcohol and trying to get them to like me. I had a girlfriend in High School who was younger than me, who I loved dearly, but my interactions with her were at best dysfunctional and at worse damaging to her.

I wonder as educators how we are teaching boys how to traverse this time in their lives in more honest and vulnerable ways.

Fast forward through university, where this one track male mind dominated much of my thinking and way of being. I was not your typical “misogynistic bro,” but my own insecurities kept me from too many constructive and necessary female relationships. I had girlfriends for whom I cared deeply, but I did not have too many female friends I could turn and talk to. I will speak later about how important I think plutonic female friends are for men’s development and understanding of women’s issues. At this time in my life so many of my relationships with women were clouded by sex and objectifying women.

Fast forward to the mid-nineties. I was twenty five and working in restaurants in San Francisco. I was living on my own, going to school and feeling like an adult. This time working at a particular restaurant in SF was transformational. The majority of the staff were older gay men who taught me that my outdated outlook on gender was holding me back from being myself. At first, their joking and flirting was intimidating, but my time at the restaurant was a pivotal moment in reexamining and understanding of gender.

After this time, I graduated from SFSU and flew to Mozambique for two years to teach English as a Peace Corps volunteer. There is nothing more influential and eye-opening to the power and strength of women than living in a rural village of a developing country. I quickly realised that women run the world, but get very little of the credit or monetary and political power that comes from that work. My time in Mozambique was instrumental in shaping the gender work I do now.

I also met the woman who would become my wife and our life in a small reed hut without running water and electricity was crucial in guiding how I interact with women. I am sure she would tell you that I was not a great man in our early days, and still had many boy-like qualities. I assume she would go on to say that I am still growing very slowly, and even after fifteen years of marriage, I have a long way to go in terms of equal distribution of house work and taking on more of the cognitive demands of operating our family. I would agree with her. I hope she realises how important her role in my life as a strong, independent and amazingly wonderful partner and friend has been in shaping who I am and the work I would like to do. Every time I get a bit too self-righteous and high on my horse, I check myself and ask, what would Mairin say about what I say publicly and what I do at home. Am I being the feminist I claim to be in my interactions with her? The answer is often not enough, I am sure, but I am working on taking on more, being a better listener, husband and partner.

The work of male feminists has to start at home.

Peace Corp led to graduate school and some dabbling with a socialist organisation, reading bell hooks and other influential women writers and thinkers and then we moved overseas and my first daughter was born. Our time overseas has given us two beautiful daughters who I would say have been the biggest influence on me and why I try to be a better ally for girls and women. I know that having girls is the most common catalyst for men who are invested in gender work, and while I have tried to paint a larger map, I would be dishonest if I didn’t admit that raising two girls, and wanting the best for them, has been the biggest factor in working to creating a world where they can be their true selves without the barriers erected by the patriarchy. Years later in Singapore I met and build a relationship with my first female friends. This would be a good time to mention the invaluable power for men to have women friends. A few years ago I was organising a school trip to Daraja in Kenya and a four female teachers helped make the trip happened. We have maintained a tight friendship, meeting periodically for dinner and drinks. Their friendship has been vital to my current understanding of how women are so different from men.

I cannot state strongly enough how important it is for men who want to understand women and their needs to interact with female friends. These women have been like sisters to me, but more importantly I see them as confidants and mentors. Their friendship takes me back to my pre-adolescent days where I could simply be myself. I learn so much every time we interact. Watching women actually listen to each other and compliment each other is so foreign to most men.

That was a long meandering account trying to answer the original questions, “What brought you here?” and I guess the simple answer is I want to walk the walk and put my money where my mouth is. If I truly value gender equity work, then I owe it to my mother, my wife, my daughters, my female friends and co-workers, my students, all the voiceless girls and women in Kenya and Mozambique and all over the world to be involved in the conversations that will help shift the balance of power in our households, our schools, and the world.

There is no doubt that the world as it is- created by a masculine patriarchal structure needs to change. We are headed toward environmental destruction, and the weak-willed insecure, ego-driven systems of the global capitalism led my men must be torn down and rebuilt with the powerful wisdom so many women have been quietly harvesting for generations.

I came to this conference to understand, to listen, to learn, to be involved in the conversations by the women in my sphere of influence who are doing this work. I want to learn from them. Be inspired by them and ultimately help them change the world.

So what did I learn? I guess this section is for any men reading this post:

Get involved. Women want us there. (sometimes) There needs to be more of us involved in these conversations. Not to dominate or take over or offer solutions, but to listen. Listen when they tell us that the world is different for them. We need to acknowledge our differences and privilege. We need to listen without judgement and ask how we can help. We need to look at our own histories and journeys and wonder where our ideas about gender have been hatched and how have they grown, if we want to be honest with ourselves. I would recommend this exercise of looking at your life and identifying influential events and people in your life who shaped your understanding of gender.

As educators, we owe it to the boys and girls in our classrooms to be role models of understanding. We need to teach and show our students that there are a myriad of ways to be a man or a women and non-binary explorers of the gender landscape. Participating in these conversations is a great way to become the kind of role models are students need.

I think we also need to give ourselves permission to know that this work is not easy and we will never get it right. As I mentioned earlier, I am sure my wife would have a lot to say about the countless ways I still fall short in the equity of our partnership. I also still struggle with many hypocritical aspects of my masculinity, but these doubts should not hinder my involvement with this movement.

If you are reading this as a man, I encourage you to start these conversations with the women in your life. If you are a women, I invite you to speak openly and honestly about some of the points I have raised with the men in your lives. And if you are non-binary, I ask for your advice. What am I missing from your perspective? What do CIS men and women need to know about gender equity of which we are currently ignorant?

And finally, when you see a conference like this come join us. It will take men and women to change the power structures of the world.

Thank you to the organisers of this conference and to everyone I met. I look forward to continue this work and seeing many of you next year.