I suggested to her that what she was calling dialogue was only the feminine aspect, the listening, being open to the other, non-judgmental part. I reflected privately on why she might want only this part of the process of full dialogue, and concluded that there must be some fear or judgment of the masculine aspect of dialogue: i.e., competitive debate, the evaluation and challenging of ideas in the crucible of critical analysis.


I was smugly convinced that what I wanted was real dialogue, both the masculine and the feminine parts. But, reflecting on the dialogue that I have shared with Maureen in the last two (which are also the first two) issues of GRIP, I think that I, too, have been less than balanced, and for a similar reason: fear of being overwhelmed by the other, by an energy that feels too strong, too dominant. Because of that fear, I have not been very willing to really hear Maureen, to listen and let her ideas work on me and within me. I have been too focused on winning, on stridently making my own points. This is, of course, the very thing that those who emphasize non-judgmental listening, non-responsive “dialogue” are trying with these measures to prevent. Masculine and feminine fears are complementary.


It is this complementarity that forms the the theoretical underpinning of my worldview around gender. I am a passionate advocate of balance, of supporting both sides, both aspects of the dualistic splitting that gender is itself a manifestation of. And yet, when my own fears are triggered, I too am unconscious of what I am doing. I create one-sidedness in my approach even while I am telling myself that I am creating balance. My balancing correction becomes itself the source of a new problem, in the same way as my friend did with her feminine reframing of dialogue.


What was I afraid of? My story in the dialogue, about how at the gender conference the men's fierce chant faded and was silenced by the women's love song, makes it clear. We live in times when peace is seen as superior to conflict, cooperation better than competition, gentleness superior to fierceness, forgiveness superior to judgment, and acceptance or praise better than challenge. I don't know a single man or woman who seems to me to be consciously holding the masculine values strongly and without shame – and I include myself in that statement. I feel besieged on all sides by a tide of feminine righteousness, men and women virtuously assured that they have the whole picture even as they endorse and emulate a one sided image of mature balance. And feeling that way, feeling powerless, I get strident and ungrounded in myself, I lose touch with my wisdom and power and descend partly into victimhood. I put out into the world just another form of the very thing that I fear.


My way back is to tell the truth, to 'fess up about it and reclaim my balance. That is what I am doing here.


Having done so, I want also to claim some important victories. Maureen's and my dialogue about marriage may not have been ideally balanced, but it was at least an example of a man and a woman engaged in intense disagreement without shaming or disrespect, and without either one being silenced. We held our relationship sacred, beyond the reach of the issues of our disagreement. And we did not shy away from masculine challenge and debate in these politically correct times when such can look and feel like abuse, or like old behaviour that should be transcended. These are major accomplishments.


What I have seen elsewhere of gender dialogues has always looked to me like a choreographed conversation: one person agreeing with and building on what the other has said. That's too easy, and not very helpful. Gender issues today are stuck on what men and women disagree about, not what we agree on. The difficulties lie in the things we don't understand or that we dislike about each other, not what we approve of. GRIP will not take the easy path that avoids the real differences. I urge you to look deeper than the surface impression of bickering or stuckness, to the deep issues of different perceptions, needs or judgments. I urge you to get involved, share your own concerns about the issues that we raise. Explore how it feels to actually put your perhaps uncomfortable feelings and thoughts down on paper, and send them in. Be sure that you do not censor yourself. Voices can be silenced even before they are raised, which is perhaps the worst silencing of them all.

David Shackleton is a thinker and writer on gender and spiritual growth, and co-editor and co-publisher of GRIP.  Contact him by email at This email address is being protected from spam bots, you need Javascript enabled to view it