"Naked and Afraid: The Male Body, The Male Gaze, and Media"
Unpacking the patriarchy, one male butt at a time.
The other day, I had one of those conversations that make you sit back, sigh, and think, "Ah, patriarchy—still alive and kicking." A man I know had read my article “From Fire Starters to Fragile Egos”, and he found himself particularly amused by the part where I pointed out that, in almost every love scene in a movie, the woman ends up on top. He thought I was exaggerating. Cute.
At first, he seemed genuinely surprised, like I’d just accused Hollywood of something unthinkable, like recycling the same five plotlines for the past half-century. But after I casually rattled off a few examples—because, trust me, they’re everywhere—he started to see the light. That’s when he hit me with the real gem: “Nobody wants to see a naked man and his butt.”
Ah, yes. There it is folks. A perfectly reasonable explanation. And by “reasonable,” I mean it’s the kind of casual, unconscious misogyny that’s embedded so deeply in society that even the “good guys” can’t see it. This is a man who, for all intents and purposes, is progressive, feminist-adjacent, and genuinely tries to be aware of these things. But there it was: women’s bodies are meant for display, while men’s… well, we can’t possibly subject people to the horror of a male butt on screen. Perish the thought!
Of course, I couldn’t let that one slide. I kindly pointed out that I know plenty of women (and let’s be real, a whole lotta men) who wouldn’t mind seeing a well-lit male backside (or well-hung front side) every once in a while. He looked shocked, like I’d just suggested we turn the whole world upside down. But that’s exactly the problem, isn’t it? The entire cinematic approach to love scenes is designed for the male gaze. Sure, women are watching too, but those scenes aren’t crafted with them in mind. No, no. The love scenes are there to keep the men happy—because nothing says equality like a 16:9/full screen beautifully lit, just enough sweat to make them glow while they bounce, and jiggle boobs shot that has nothing to do with the plot. Am I right?
What’s really fascinating is how love scenes have evolved—or devolved, depending on how you look at it. Subtle eroticism? Sexy, artful hints of what’s to come? Forget it. We’re now at the point where love scenes in mainstream movies are barely distinguishable from softcore porn, and they almost always culminate in the same way: woman on top, breasts taking up the entire screen. Why? Because, apparently, men lose all cognitive function at the sight of a naked woman—especially boobs…they instantly revert back to their most primal, milk-drunk baby self.
So here we are in a world where even men who genuinely want equality are blindsided by how deeply conditioned they are. I’m pretty sure this particular guy had a mini existential crisis when he realized what he’d just said. You could almost see it flash across his face: Wait… am I part of the problem?! Spoiler alert: yes, yes you are. But hey, it’s not entirely his fault. He’s just another product of a society where movies, ads, fashion, and even politics are geared toward the male gaze.
Did you know a woman’s naked body—breasts and all—is perfectly fine for a PG-13 movie, but the second we even think about male nudity, it’s straight to R-rated territory? Because obviously, a man’s body is just too shocking for our poor, delicate eyes. It’s almost like a secret initiation into the patriarchy—gotta keep the booby fascination alive in those impressionable young boys!
And let’s be clear: this isn’t just about who’s on top in the love scene. It’s about who the entire scene is designed for. Spoiler alert (again): it’s not women. It’s the male gaze. It’s in Hollywood, it’s in fashion, it’s in advertising, it’s in your workplace. It’s basically everywhere, like glitter—once it gets into something, good luck getting it out.
Sure, we’re finally starting to notice it in advertising and workplaces—where women are no longer just sexy lamp props—but every time I think we’re making progress, something like this conversation pops up, reminding me that the patriarchy is the gift that keeps on giving. Like that houseguest who won’t leave, no matter how many hints you drop.
The ugly stain of patriarchy has soaked into every inch of our cultural fabric, and it’s going to take a lot of scrubbing to get it out. But hey, I’m at least grateful that the man I was talking to was open to starting that scrubbing process. Baby steps, right? And who knows? Maybe one day, we’ll live in a world where the male butt gets the screen time it deserves.
But until then, let’s start asking more questions. Let’s look at all the ways this mess is embedded in our culture. Let’s point it out when we see it, have the awkward conversations, and slowly chip away at this nonsense. Because the truth is, the more we start calling out the patriarchy in all its ridiculousness, the harder it’ll be for it to hide in plain sight. And hey, maybe, just maybe, we’ll get those well-lit male butts after all.
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