Late last night, when I’d finally got my rambunctious kids off to sleep, I sat down to watch Netflix’s Louis Theroux: Inside the Manosphere.
Although the themes of the documentary are all too relevant for my sons, aged 8 and 10, this was definitely not family viewing, with its swearing, bigotry and acts of cruelty.
In the first 90 seconds alone, I heard pronouncements like, ‘A man who’s not dangerous will never be seen as successful. You can’t be a little b***h,’ ‘Men against women. It’s attack on masculinity,’ and ‘If your b***h is going to a club when you said no, destroy her f***ing life.’
The things these men felt emboldened to say were reprehensible. I felt sick.
An hour and a half later, I didn’t feel any better. In fact, I felt so much worse: worried and deeply depressed at the programme’s depiction of the toxic masculinity that has taken over parts of the internet.
The toxic masculinity that I know will increasingly insert its tentacles into my small sons’ worlds.
Like many parents, last year I sat aghast through Adolescence – comforting myself with the small consolation that this particular story of a radicalised youngster stabbing a fellow schoolgirl was fictional.
But the hideous misogynists here, including Harrison Sullivan (HSTikkyTokky), Myron Gaines and Nicolas Kenn De Balinthazy (aka Sneako), are all too frighteningly real.
These men, with their wealth and fame, seem to delight in teaching young boys that the path to riches and respect is misogyny, bigotry and belittling others.
I watched in horror as they disparaged women – telling one her value lay in having ‘a vagina and titties,’ and dismissing another as an embarrassment due to her weight – and indulged in antisemitic conspiracy theories.
Theroux, himself the father of three sons, was the perfect guide through this insidious domain. His usual shtick is to almost fade into the background, giving odious subjects the space to expose their malevolence.
Middle-aged, mild-mannered and bespectacled, the presenter couldn’t have contrasted more with the buff young bucks he interviewed, all well out of their intellectual depth (not difficult).
There were occasional moments of reprieve. The scene that struck me most saw Theroux interview Sullivan’s mum, who took her squirming son to task on his sexism. She seemed incredulous that he felt he could belittle women so confidently, when he had such limited experience of them.
As a parent, it worried me seeing how easily people with seemingly normal maternal figures could deteriorate so badly.
Sullivan was perhaps the most interesting figure. At times he showed self-awareness – admitting his mum would slap him if she heard him, and acknowledging that the ideology he promotes is hateful – but claiming that if he were a better person he wouldn’t make as much money.
Because money is undoubtedly what this is all about.
Speaking of outrageous wealth, one notable absence was misogynist-in-chief, Andrew Tate. Like him, I live in Bucharest, Romania; friends have spotted him out running or zipping around in his sports cars.
But whether they’re here in our city or at the other end of a screen, I know such pernicious influencers are mounting an increasing assault on the values of my boys.
At eight and 10, my sons are so impressionable and vulnerable to the image these men are selling.
The materialistic lifestyles depicted are so superficially alluring to young men: wads of cash, sleek Mediterranean villas, partying with pals, surrounded by pretty girls, flash cars, athletic physiques…
It doesn’t feel a million miles from what a 10-year-old boy might dream of.
And these chauvinists often channel a ‘cheeky chappie’ charm, like the more innocuous YouTubers my sons admire: gamers like Foltyn and Ali-A, and personalities like MrBeast (who has had his own share of controversy in the past).
While I try to ensure that the online content my sons consume is at least free of hate speech and bad language, it will only get harder to police what they watch.
And even these seemingly family-friendly videos sell a laddish vibe that my sons love to ape, and that to me, feels like potentially the beginning of a slippery slope.
Put simply, these guys have a cultural caché with my sons that I, their mum, will never have.
Still, I strive daily to shape my boys into decent human beings – to grow up to respect women, reject bigotry and homophobia, not be bullies, not use bad language, to value education and hard work.
But watching last night, it’s hard to know how to fight against these manosphere figures.
The programme reaffirmed my view that it’s never too early to start having the conversations about proper values and the online dangers that lie in wait for our sons.
I know it’s not easy – as digital natives, my kids’ tech skills surpassed mine long ago – but it’s vital to try and get a handle on the content our kids are exposed to, to steer them away from the creepiest corners of the internet and challenge dangerous messages.
Instead, it’s our role to use presence, honest conversations and basic decency to encourage our boys to question this toxic brand of masculinity and think seriously about the type of men they aspire to be.
Based on this documentary – it isn’t going to get any easier.
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