My tweet composition screen was as blank as Thailand’s half of the scoreboard.
My mind was at work, though, trying to think of something witty to say. See, I was sprawled out on my couch, having just tuned into a soccer match between Thailand and Norway in the FIFA Women’s World Cup on a recent Sunday afternoon.
The Taiwanese players were not attractive. Each one seemed to have a Spock haircut and the physique of a prepubescent boy. And it didn’t help that they were playing against a Norway team that appeared to be comprised primarily of cute blondes named “Ingrid.”
After deducing which team was hotter, virtually the only thing I noticed about the game was that Norway was handling Thailand with ease. I was just too caught up in composing that tweet, ridiculing the looks of the Taiwanese gals while gushing about the looks of the Norwegians.
But my wit never sparked, much like Thailand’s offense, as Norway went on to win, 4-0.
My disappointment over failing to compose a silly tweet, however, was quickly supplanted by something else: Disappointment in myself.
It hit me that I had reduced every woman on the field down to their looks and assigned value to them based on that and that alone. I was crushed when I realized I’d done this.
“Mad Men” is one of my favorite TV shows of all-time and one of the things I was continually struck by during its run was just how badly women were treated in the 1960s. Seeing female characters like Peggy Olson and Joan Holloway get treated like little more than sexual objects by their male peers was infuriating. I can’t count how many times I cringed at what they had to put up with.
As much as I’d like to think I’m nothing like one of the boorish male characters on “Mad Men” and that I champion gender equality, the fact remained that I had acted just like one of those obnoxious dudes.
All of this has helped me realize that consciously leading a life free of sexist behavior doesn’t necessarily guarantee its absence, unconsciously. And that’s important to address.
Just for the record, though: It’s a challenge to look at someone and not let their appearance shape our opinion of them. After all, when it’s a stranger, the way they look is often the first piece of information we get that clues us into how we should behave.
But this basic human instinct takes on a different tenor when it’s a man and a woman. Men have been leering at women forever. And so often, once we deduce whether a woman is attractive or not, that’s our last significant assessment of them. A million other men on a million other couches have had the exact same reaction that I did on that Sunday afternoon.
And that needs to stop. There’s certainly nothing wrong with finding women attractive, but it’s important that we, as men, take note of their other attributes and lend those equal weight in our considerations – because it’s the right thing to do.
Sticking to soccer, I may not think Abby Wambach is cute, but she’s one of the greatest soccer players ever. I’m similarly non-smitten with Melissa McCarthy, whom I recently watched in “Spy,” but she’s among the most brilliant comedic performers currently working. Those things matter, too. Just as much as anything else.
On the flip side, I may think Wambach’s teammate, Alex Morgan, is cute, but she’s much more than a pretty face, having exhibited prowess as a writer with the release of three young adult novels, all well-received. And Rose Byrne, who co-starred in “Spy” with McCarthy, may be just as pretty as Morgan, but she also happens to possess an acting range that rivals any actress making movies today.
What I’m trying to say is this: You can’t see if a woman is beautiful if you’re just looking to see if she’s beautiful.
I think I’ll tweet about that instead.
EVE OF STEVE 