Whither Critical Masculinity Studies? Notes on Inclusive Masculinity Theory,Postfeminism,and Sexual Politics

Inclusive Masculinity Theory

Taking these analyses as my point of departure, I want to consider how the logic of postfeminism is reproduced in inclusive masculinity theory as elaborated by Eric Anderson. In doing so, I am interested to consider what the dissemination and reception of Anderson’s work signals for masculinities scholarship more broadly. ¹ Anderson’s theory of “inclusive masculinity” is set out in the 2009 text Inclusive Masculinity: The Changing Nature of Masculinities and further elaborated in dozens of sole and joint-authored journal articles. ² Based on ethnographic research with predominantly white, middle- to upper-middle-class university-aged men in the United States and United Kingdom, the main thesis of this work is that recent shifts in the social and cultural landscape have brought about the development of more “inclusive” or nonhomophobic forms of masculinity. Specifically, Anderson (2009, 7) contends that decreasing levels of cultural “homohysteria”—that is, “the fear of being homosexualized”—enable men to develop softer, more expressive, and tactile forms of masculinity.

Anderson (2009, 97) argues that Anglo-American societies—referring to the United States and United Kingdom, but at times extending this remit to encompass Canada and Australia—progress through three “cultural zeitgeists” of elevated, diminishing, and diminished homohysteria. In the first of these settings hegemonic masculinity dominates, but as cultural homohysteria diminishes, more inclusive forms of masculinity emerge alongside orthodox masculinities. In these contexts, “multiple masculinities will proliferate without hierarchy and hegemony, and men are permitted an expansion of acceptable heteromasculine behaviours.” For Anderson, Connell’s (1995) theory of hegemonic masculinity accurately describes the operation of masculinities in cultures of high homohysteria, but becomes increasingly less applicable in contexts of diminishing and diminished homohysteria. He claims, “Inclusive masculinity theory (Anderson 2009) supersedes hegemonic masculinity by explaining the stratification of men alongside their social dynamics in times of lower homophobia” (2011b, 570–71). Arguing that Anglo-American societies are currently characterized by diminishing or diminished cultural homohysteria, Anderson posits inclusive masculinity as the empirical and theoretical successor to hegemonic masculinity.

Inclusive masculinity theory is becoming a recognized (if contested) concept within men and masculinities scholarship. ³ Anderson’s (2008a, 2008b, 2011a) work is widely disseminated, with dozens of articles published in prestigious journals such as Men and Masculinities, Sex Roles, and Gender & Society; a coauthored 2010 article for Journal of Gender Studies (Anderson and McGuire 2010) ranks as the journal’s third most read and eighth most frequently cited article. ⁴ Inclusive masculinity theory provides the framework for a Special Issue on masculinities, sexualities, and sport in the Journal of Homosexuality, edited by Anderson (2011b) and bringing together a number of scholars’ work. Inclusive masculinity has been endorsed by eminent masculinity theorists including Michael Kimmel and Michael Messner, with Alan Klein declaring, “With this book, Eric Anderson is now poised to move us to the next generation of masculinity scholarship” (Klein, cited on the cover of Anderson 2009). The text has been extensively reviewed in high-profile journals (Martino 2011; Nagel 2010; Vaccaro 2011) and a small network of scholars actively support and promote Anderson’s work. Most notable in this regard is Mark McCormack (2012), author of The declining significance of homophobia, ⁵ which argues that young British men are dramatically reconfiguring masculinity and heterosexuality by renouncing homophobia and promoting inclusivity. This publication was met with on overwhelming response in the media and across academic, activist, and policy forums; McCormack (2013) was recently given a platform to discuss this in a special commentary on “making an impact” in Sexualities. In November 2012, the British Sociological Association (BSA 2012) held a one-day seminar prompted by the work of Anderson and McCormack, on the basis that these authors “highlight a need for us to fully re-examine what it is to be a man, and to develop our understanding of how masculinities are constructed, performed and consumed after a period of significant social, cultural and economic change.” The media attention surrounding Anderson and McCormack’s work is remarkable, with a proliferation of articles about inclusive masculinities appearing in the British print media (e.g., The Telegraph, The Guardian, The Daily Mail, and The Independent) and international online press (e.g., The Huffington Post and Salon). Anderson and McCormack themselves make regular contributions to the media, writing magazine articles, newspaper features and blog posts, as well as appearing on radio and television programs in and beyond the United Kingdom. ⁶

Optimism of the Intellect: The (Affective) Appeal of Inclusive Masculinity Theory

Acknowledging that new concepts and theories gain recognition through existing disciplinary apparatuses—journal publishing conventions and review procedures, disciplinary bodies and professional associations—it seems important to ask why and how inclusive masculinity theory has emerged at this particular juncture in masculinity studies. Of course, a number of factors contribute to the “success” of a particular theory. In an illuminating article, Kathy Davis (2008) employs a sociology of science perspective to examine the espousal of “intersectionality” within feminist theory. Her analysis identifies four characteristics of an influential concept or theory. Specifically, this will address a fundamental concern of the field; add a novel twist to an old problem; appeal to generalists and specialists; invite further enquiry through ambiguity and incompleteness.

Inclusive masculinity theory meets Davis’ criteria. In the first instance, the theory attempts to address a long-standing concern in masculinity studies by proposing an alternative to hegemonic masculinity theory, debates over which have preoccupied the field (Beasley 2008; Connell and Messerschmidt 2005; Hearn 2004; Wetherell and Edley 1999). Second, inclusive masculinity theory appeals to both generalists and specialists because it is readily understandable and easily applied. Indeed, Anderson and McCormack profess a commitment to “public sociology” and pour scorn on poststructuralist scholarship for its difficult language. Judith Butler comes in for particularly harsh (if by now familiar) criticism as Anderson (2009, 33) indicts, “Butler … is so inaccessible that she commits a violent, shameful act of academic exclusion.” It is perhaps testament to the accessibility of their own work that inclusive masculinity theory succeeds in capturing the attention of the definitive “generalist” audience, that is, the popular press. Third, inclusive masculinity theory—with its account of rapidly declining homophobia among young men—definitely confounds expectations. Finally, this new mode of theorizing invites further enquiry, as Anderson (2009, 160) calls on scholars to take up the analysis of inclusive masculinities across a range of settings.

While these factors surely contribute to the success of inclusive masculinity theory, I want to draw attention to another important consideration not discussed in Davis’ account. Specifically, I am interested in the affective draw a particular theory or concept can have, that is, the way it appeals to readers’ emotional subjectivities. The affective register of inclusive masculinity theory is decidedly optimistic. McCormack (2012, xxv) introduces his book as a “good-news story,” stating that “Although unusual for sociological work on gender and sexuality, this is a good-news story—a story of increasing equality for LGBT students, and a story of increasing inclusivity among straight students.” Given the substantial media interest around this work, we may surmise that “the declining significance of homophobia” is not only a “good-news story” but also a “good news story.” ⁷ In his endorsement of Inclusive masculinities, Kimmel describes the book as “suffused with hope” and Messner further states, “Eric Anderson’s research gives us some cause for (dare I say it?) optimism” (Kimmel and Messner cited on the cover of Anderson 2009). Writing in praise of The declining significance of homophobia, Jeffrey Weeks commends, “This is a heartening book … and makes one optimistic for the future” (Weeks cited on the cover of McCormack 2012). The language of inclusive masculinity theory even sounds optimistic, and in this we can discern an element of rhetorical leveraging; while Anderson uses inclusive masculinity to describe the ways in which (white and middle class) heterosexual men are embracing gay men, the term “inclusive” seems to denote something much more all-encompassing. For this reason, inclusive masculinity should perhaps be placed alongside broader shifts toward the use of “happy talk” within the academy, a pertinent example of which is the move away from “race” in favor of “diversity” (Bell and Hartmann 2007).

Anderson and McCormack proffer to their readership a sense of cheery optimism and hope; as one reviewer suggests, “It’s not often that an academic study makes one feel better about being in the world, yet Eric Anderson’s Inclusive masculinity does” (Adams 2010). There are, however, serious problems with the arguments put forward by Anderson and McCormack, not least of which is their disregard for key issues of sexual politics. In the following section, I provide a critical analysis of inclusive masculinity theory and later relate this to the wider context of contemporary masculinities scholarship. In doing so, I am less concerned to dispute inclusive masculinity theory on empirical grounds—though I think this is an important project, ably taken up by scholars such as Tristan Bridges (2013)—and am more interested in interrogating the underpinning politics as well as the political effects of this new brand of scholarship vis-à-vis postfeminism.

Masculinity Studies’ Sexual Politics: Now You See It, Now You Don’t ⁸

I should begin by pointing out that the erasure of sexual politics from academic work on men and masculinities is nothing new. As such, before discussing what is novel about inclusive masculinity theory, I want to identify some continuities between this and earlier bodies of work which tended to deemphasize gendered power relations. In doing so, I refer to the critiques of masculinity studies raised by feminist and pro-feminist scholars, in particular Anthony McMahon’s (1993) analysis of the “psychologization” of sexual politics in writing on men and masculinities. In an analysis that has since been extended upon (Robinson 1996, 2003), McMahon posits that masculinity scholars evince a selective engagement with feminist scholarship. Notable in this regard is a heavy reliance on feminist object-relations theory, in particular Nancy Chodorow’s (1978) The reproduction of mothering. Commenting on the irony that this text—which is principally concerned with the psychology of women—should be so influential within the field of men and masculinities, McMahon (1993, 687) argues that the appropriation of this work enables masculinity scholars to disavow men’s interest in patriarchal gender relations while seeming to engage a political framework. He writes:

Feminist object-relations theory, ironically, makes it easy for men to deny agency in the maintenance of patriarchy … Reliance on this approach allows male writers to employ rhetoric that is highly critical, and, at the same time, to ground these criticisms in an analysis that directs attention away from men’s practices. Thus it is possible to speak in terms of male power, domination, and advantage while proposing an explanation in terms of the agent-less reproduction of a social structure.

The appropriation of feminist object-relations theory thus permits masculinity scholars to focus on the burdens of masculinity for men, without any concomitant analysis of men’s interest in maintaining unequal gender relations. While the intention of such scholarship may be critical, its sexual political effects are conservative, as attention is focused on a reified “masculinity” rather than men’s practices (McMahon 1993, 689).

These same tendencies are evident within Anderson’s writing on inclusive masculinities. Anderson (2009, 38) demonstrates a highly selective engagement with feminist work and, perhaps predictably, employs a feminist object-relations framework to explain the social reproduction of gender inequality. ⁹ Where he does draw on other modes of feminist thought, this is not particularly satisfactory. For example, Anderson (2009, 36) describes Adrienne Rich’s (1980) influential essay, “Compulsory heterosexuality and lesbian existence,” as an analysis of the regulation of “homosexuality.” In doing so, Anderson effectively reproduces the erasure of lesbianism so carefully documented by Rich; indeed, Rich (1980, 637) specifically objects to the conflation of lesbianism and male homosexuality, stating that lesbian sexuality is “usually, and, incorrectly, ‘included’ under male homosexuality.” Anderson (2009, 38) goes on to state his agreement with Pierre Bourdieu (2001) in viewing male dominance from a historical materialist or radical feminist perspective. In this way, Bourdieu is made to stand in as representative of (a singular, undifferentiated) radical feminism; this is in spite of the fact that Bourdieu infamously gives little attention to women or gender in his work. The text Anderson cites, Masculine domination, represents one of Bourdieu’s only attempts to address such issues and has been subject to intense criticism from feminist scholars (Lovell 2000). Having asserted the importance of historical materialism, Anderson then cites Caroline New’s contention that “men’s interests in patriarchy are inseparable from the social relations in and through which they are expressed, and cannot therefore be invoked to explain those relations” (New 2001, 735, cited in Anderson 2009, 38). Disavowing men’s interests in gender inequality is, of course, counterposed to historical materialism—which centers on the analysis of class-based interests—and exemplifies Anderson’s refusal to deal in the political structure of gender relations.

Anderson (2009, 47) dedicates an entire chapter of Inclusive masculinity to enumerating the “costs” of orthodox masculinity for men, contending that this is something scholars have not sufficiently attended to. This, however, is a difficult claim to substantiate—and one that goes without citation or explanation by Anderson—given that a great deal of scholarship is concerned to examine the negative implications of (hegemonic) masculinity for men (e.g., in relation to health). Indeed, many scholars explicitly reject the “costs” framework because it is already a dominant discourse, frequently manifest in accounts of “masculinity in crisis” (Robinson 1996). Anderson’s claim is also historically amnesic, given that early sociological work on masculinity deliberately set out to challenge the preoccupation of sex role theory with the “burdens” of the “male role” (Carrigan, Connell, and Lee 1985). Rather than engaging these arguments, Anderson (2009, 47) draws on the work of Warren Farrell to argue that “sexism carries a price tag [for men].” What interests me here is not so much the point Anderson is making, but rather the use of Farrell to substantiate this point. The text Anderson cites, The Myth of Male Power (Farrell 1994), is a veritable treatise in antifeminist sentiment which posits that patriarchy is a feminist myth and men are the “real victims” in society (see Edley and Wetherell 2001). Though Anderson tempers his endorsement of Farrell, drawing attention to certain limitations of his work, this citational construction—which posits that sociologists fail to address the costs of masculinity for men, and then cites Farrell as an author whose work does address this issue—seems to posit that only antifeminist scholars consider how narrowly conceived cultural constructions of masculinity impact men. Concluding his chapter on the costs of masculinity for men, almost as an afterthought, Anderson (2009, 51) includes a short paragraph entitled “What about agency?” Unfortunately, the question goes unanswered.

It is clear then that there are many continuities between inclusive masculinity theory as elaborated by Anderson and earlier work which tended to deemphasize sexual politics. Having established this relation, I want to draw attention to what is new about inclusive masculinity theory as an approach to masculinities scholarship. I argue that within this brand of theorizing, sexual political matters are not simply ignored but are instead presented as already settled, or in the process of being settled. It is in this regard that parallels can most clearly be seen between inclusive masculinity theory and the social and cultural context of postfeminism in which it is produced.

The Rhetoric of Social Change

As in the sociological literature discussed by McRobbie (2009), there is a sense in Anderson’s work that social change is logical and inevitable. This is, perhaps, partially explained by the circularity of inclusive masculinity theory, whereby decreasing cultural homohysteria leads to the development of inclusive masculinities, which are in turn characterized by an absence of homophobia. More pertinent here, however, is the teleological narrative of decreasing homohysteria that underpins inclusive masculinity theory. Distinguishing three “cultural zeitgeists” of elevated, diminishing, and diminished homohysteria which Anglo-American societies progress through in linear succession, Anderson seems to suggest that Anglo-American societies are somehow predisposed toward gender and sexual equality. This account of social change is peculiarly agentless, premising that more progressive attitudes to homosexuality are the result of “the increasing loss of our puritan sentiment” (Anderson 2009, 5). While feminist campaigns and gay liberation are given mention, they are very much in the background of this narrative; if any group of social actors is to be credited with the decline of homophobia, it is the young, white, heterosexual, middle-class men of Anderson’s study, here imagined as the harbingers of new and more equitable forms of gender relations.

Even when speaking about the role men play in changing patterns of gender and sexuality, Anderson (2009, 158) shifts attention away from located male practices and onto a reified “masculinity,” contending that “inclusive masculinities should open a new arena in gender politics.” The account of linear, progressive social change developed by Anderson parallels the kinds of cultural narratives critically interrogated by Jasbir Puar (2007), for whom the claim that western societies are necessarily sexually progressive is deeply implicated with imperialism. Her arguments resonate closely with McRobbie’s (2009, 1) contention that in the postfeminist context, feminism is strategically instrumentalized as a means to shore up divisions between “the west and the rest.” Positing a model of linear and progressive social change, inclusive masculinity theory offers no space to think about permutations of patriarchal relations or the development of new forms of gender and sexual inequality. And if Anglo-American societies are inevitably moving toward gender and sexual equality, following the “apex of homohysteria in 1988” (Anderson 2009, 156), it would seem there is no longer any need for feminist and LGBTQ social justice campaigns.

This narrative of linear and progressive social change is central to Anderson’s critique of hegemonic masculinity theory and in this respect, his analysis is distinct from many other critiques of hegemonic masculinity theory (Beasley 2008; Hearn 2004; Wetherell and Edley 1999). For Anderson (2009, 93), it is not that the theory of hegemonic masculinity is somehow flawed; indeed, hegemonic masculinity theory has provided the framework for some of his earlier work. Rather, Anderson argues that the theory of hegemonic masculinity does not apply to contemporary masculinities. That is, instead of critiquing the theory of hegemonic masculinity on theoretical grounds, Anderson (2009, 32) contends that dramatic social and cultural change has rendered the theory redundant. He writes, “what I see occurring in my investigations (of white university-aged men) is not accounted for with hegemonic masculinity theory. Times have changed, and this requires new ways of thinking about gender.” ¹⁰ Thus, Anderson’s critique of hegemonic masculinity is based on the understanding that progressive social change has undermined the utility of a concept centrally concerned with the analysis of gendered power relations. Because although Anderson discusses hegemonic masculinity as it pertains to understanding power relations between men, the concept was formulated as a means to theorize power dynamics among men and between men and women; as Carrigan, Connell, and Lee 1985, 552) describe, hegemonic masculinity theory is an extension of feminist theories of patriarchy and begins from the premise that “the overall relationship between men and women is one involving domination and oppression.” That Anderson neglects this aspect of hegemonic masculinity theory is ironic in light of these authors’ further contention that “This is a fact about the social world … that is steadily evaded, and sometimes flatly denied, in much of the literature about masculinity written by men” (1985, 552).

While I have reservations about the way Anderson engages hegemonic masculinity theory, I want to impress that my argument here is not substantive: I am not claiming that the concept of hegemonic masculinity is the “best” approach to the study of men and masculinities. Indeed, when Mark McCormack (2012, 39), a key supporter of Anderson, contends that “there is a tendency to overstate the utility and applicability of hegemonic masculinity theory,” I am inclined to agree with him. What concerns me here is the uncomplicated narrative of progressive social change the theory of inclusive masculinity presumes and reproduces, and how this compounds the logic of postfeminism and effects the erasure of sexual politics. It seems to me that there is something altogether too convenient about the way Anderson invokes a discourse of vague “social change” in order to dismiss scholarship that runs counter to his own.

Examining the discursive machinations through which Anderson retires hegemonic masculinity theory, I also want to draw attention to the ways in which he attempts to retire scholars associated with this conceptual frame. Insisting that hegemonic masculinity theory must be located in its “appropriate” social and cultural context, Anderson (2009, 90) discusses the 1980s and early 1990s as “an epoch of heightened homohysteria” and commends scholars such as R. W. Connell, Michael Kimmel, and Michael Messner for having “rightfully assessed the zeitgeist of their time, cementing hegemonic masculinity into the literature” (2009, 91). While thinking about how concepts and theories relate to the social and cultural context in which they emerge is an interesting project (and one this article partakes in), what is noteworthy here is the way Anderson (2011b, 573) situates theorists of hegemonic masculinity in the past (“their time”). Elsewhere referring to these same scholars as masculinity studies’ “former leading figures,” Anderson seems posed to install himself and other proponents of inclusive masculinity theory as the forebears of a new direction in masculinity studies. This kind of generational (and, perhaps, ageist) logic is accompanied by the supposition that new directions in the field must be, indeed can only be forged by young scholars. In the conclusion of Inclusive masculinity, Anderson (2009, 160) states finally, “I appeal to graduate students and young scholars, those who possess enough adolescent capital and those who can freely associate with youth without feeling out of place: Investigate the intersection of inclusive masculinities in other arenas.” In this way, those scholars whose work focuses on sexual politics and gendered power relations are situated in the past, as young scholars are called forth to examine the (implicitly depoliticized) present.

The Problem with “Homophobia is Masculinity”

Arguing that a decline in cultural homohysteria has led to the development of inclusive masculinities, Anderson overstates the centrality of homophobia to cultural definitions of masculinity and in so doing downplays the sexual politics at stake in the reconfiguration of masculinity formations and practices. Though homophobia is heavily imbricated with masculinity, this is not to say that homophobia is the definitive expression of masculinity. A clear example of Anderson’s (2009, 8, 95) privileging of homophobia in cultural constructions of masculinity—from which his entire argument proceeds—is found in his contention that within cultures of elevated homohysteria “homophobia is masculinity.” Although Anderson attributes this construction to Michael Kimmel (1994), in actual fact, Kimmel’s influential essay is entitled “Masculinity as homophobia” and centers on the relation between masculinity, fear, and shame through a discussion of homophobia: he does not argue that homophobia is ipso facto masculinity. Moreover, Kimmel is deeply concerned with how homophobia is implicated with sexism and racism—issues that receive scant attention in Anderson’s work. The overwhelming focus on homohysteria and homophobia in inclusive masculinity theory means that little consideration is given to the relation between masculinity and heterosexuality, and the ways in which the dynamics of heterosexuality structure men’s practices and male subjectivity. This is despite the fact that Anderson’s (2009, 151) research is conducted almost entirely with heterosexual men, many of whom emphatically insisted upon their heterosexual identity even when engaging (strictly delimited) same-sex sexual practices. Why then does Anderson not consider the importance of heterosexuality to cultural definitions of masculinity? Why is this not given any further analysis or critical interpretation?

Reviewers of Inclusive masculinity have raised similar points. In a review for this journal, Wayne Martino (2011) asks why Anderson doesn’t consider how these kinds of sexual “transgressions” actually serve as a way of demonstrating masculinity. Writing in the Journal of Men’s Studies, Elizabeth Nagel (2010, 2) presses further, questioning why Anderson doesn’t relate these practices to the privileged position of his research subjects: “It is arguable that this privilege is exactly what enables these men to engage in homoerotic, homosexual, and effeminate behaviours with impunity.” For Anderson (2009, 159), however, “trying to distinguish the privileged from the marginalized … is an increasingly difficult task.” It is not that Anderson (2009, 98) overlooks the regulatory force of heterosexuality and heteronormativity in social constructions of masculinity; rather, he argues that “Heterosexism is an independent and unrelated variable for the operation of inclusive masculinities.” In this way, Anderson foregoes any consideration of the gendered power relations of heterosexuality, despite evidence that sexual access to women’s bodies continues to play a key role in the organization of masculine subjectivities and men’s practices (Pascoe 2007; Richardson 2010).

Recognizing that “inclusive masculinity theory does not examine the mechanisms through which heterosexual identities are maintained” (2012, 89), Mark McCormack introduces the concept of “heterosexual recuperation” to explain the ways in which young men maintain a heterosexual identity without recourse to homophobia, here again conceived as the “primary” mechanism of heterosexual boundary maintenance. Heterosexual recuperation operates by two key mechanisms: conquestial recuperation, understood as boasting about heterosexual desires and conquests, and ironic recuperation, described as the satirical proclamation of same-sex desire or gay identity (2012, 90). McCormack (2012, 92) is, however, at pains to demonstrate that the use of heterosexual recuperation is limited and that conquestial recuperation is not linked to sexism or misogyny, stating: “When conquestial recuperation is used, it does not occur alongside overt forms of misogyny.” Of course, the very notion of “conquestial” would seem to denote a relationship of (male) dominance and (female) subordination, but this goes uninterrogated. Research which finds that these kinds of discursive strategies do contribute to misogynistic attitudes and practices is dismissed by McCormack (2012, 96) on the grounds that “this research occurred in homohysteric cultures”; in this way, McCormack relegates earlier feminist research to an irrelevant “past” and conveniently ignores more recent feminist work in this area (see Ringrose 2012). Perhaps recognizing that his analysis fails entirely to consider the experiences of the girls and women who are drawn into these strategies of heterosexual recuperation, McCormack (2012, 96) concludes with the rather blithe assertion: “further research is required to assess the impact of conquestial recuperation on girls in school cultures.”

I am a Feminist, but …

While affirming that their work is, indeed, feminist, Anderson and McCormack both make repeated use of disclaimers. In a permutation of the familiar postfeminist phrasing, this is almost as if to say: “I am a feminist, but ….” Exemplifying this tendency, McCormack (2012, xxix) concludes his introduction by stating that although his work “could be read as a critique of the feminist sociology of gender and education … Such an interpretation would be a profound error.” He continues, “I am firmly located within feminist ideals and politics. Rather, I suggest that we need to recognise social change where it occurs, and I argue that feminist research on sexuality, gender and schooling needs to be historically located and contextualised with respect to the social demographics of the participants, their geographical location, and the broader cultural context” (2012, xxix). Leaving aside the implication that feminist research fails to adequately address (or even recognize) social change, the contention that feminist scholarship needs to be “historically located” seems to suggest that feminist scholarship is always already past. Through recourse to this kind of temporal logic, McCormack excuses himself from having to do the necessary intellectual work of engaging with or critiquing feminist scholarship and—critically—avoids having to directly come out against or refute feminism. I am again struck by the convenience of this argument, and its distinctly postfeminist quality: the disarticulation of feminism is achieved not through renunciation, but through incorporation; this is to say, the disarticulation of feminism requires, first, that “feminism” be articulated.

Finally, I want to point to some of the preemptive strategies employed by Anderson to foreclose criticism of inclusive masculinity theory. Acknowledging that “some may have difficulty in trusting that today’s youth are rapidly shaking off the masculinist orthodox burden of their forefathers” and “others may think I am overly stating the data, or being overly optimistic about what is occurring” (2009, 160), Anderson contends that his findings are “somewhat immediately verifiable” simply by observing young men:

One can easily see how today men are permitted to carry one-strapped bags. One can easily see the sexualisation of men’s bodies in advertising. One can see the increasing demands that men dress sharp. One can see that items, colours, and behaviours once heavily associated with the purchasing power of women, have been marketed to men. (2009, 160)

This is a superficial analysis in the most literal sense; Anderson is arguing that simply by looking at young men it is possible to see that they are now more inclusive. Sorely lacking here is any critical analysis as Anderson takes it for granted that because young men look different, they must somehow be different, and that this difference is necessarily a good thing (for a counterpoint to this view, see Bridges 2013). Moreover, Anderson does not consider the new forms of regulation and exclusion these shifts involve, or the financial interests at stake in more closely involving men in consumer capitalism. All of this is left to the side as Anderson (2009, 157) thrills: “I am delighted to see that men’s clothing have consumed once-feminized styles as fashionable: The adoption of pink, cardigan sweaters, skinny jeans and one-strapped bags. I am delighted that men can now use facial moisturizers and other skin care products.” The defiant, celebratory tone Anderson invokes seems to echo the triumphant voice with which postfeminism reclaims all that feminism has disallowed. It is, really, as if “postfeminism has come true” (Gill and Donaghue 2013)—and not just for the girls!

In a closing defense of inclusive masculinity theory, Anderson (2009, 160) pronounces: “On too many occasions academics sit in their ivory towers proclaiming what is or is not happening from a distance. We are stamped with a version of youth’s social world from which we experienced, and we add to this what research traditionally reports in order to calibrate our understandings of sex and gender. Accordingly, we look for data to confirm our view, this is something known as confirmation bias.” While employing an inclusive “we,” this statement nevertheless seems to invoke a “grammar of individualism” (Gill 2007, 259) as Anderson makes clear that if scholars do not or cannot replicate his findings, this is down to some personal failing on their behalf. Placing responsibility on scholars as individuals, Anderson effects a distinctly neoliberal, postfeminist injunction.