There’s a message rising in modern feminism that’s hard to ignore: I don’t like men. It’s not whispered—it’s shouted from podcast panels, TikTok reels, and social-media clips. Men are “weird,” “creepy,” “out of style.” The very idea of masculinity has been re-branded as something to reject rather than refine.
But here’s the paradox. The very same voices declaring they “don’t need men” still tacitly use men—dates, entertainment, “fun,” emotional distraction. Men become accessories. Women assert independence—but in practice, they keep men in orbit. That disconnect isn’t empowerment: it’s commodification of relationships. It reduces what should be the deepest human connection—partnership, shared life—to what someone can do for you now.
And you might say: “What about the men?” Indeed, a parallel shift is happening on the other side of the ledger. Many men, influenced by red-pill or black-pill thinking, say they want relationships with no accountability: “just sex, peace, minimal effort.” That’s not liberation—it’s an abdication.
In short, both sides are echoing the same destructive note: independence without community, self-expression without sacrifice. But a real relationship—true marriage or partnership—demands something else: mutual giving, mutual sacrifice, mutual self-accountability.
The Data Backs The Drift
Consider some numbers. A 2020 survey by the Pew Research Center found that 61 % of single men say they are looking for either a relationship or casual dates, compared with only 38 % of single women. Among all singles, half say they are not looking to date or form a relationship. Marriage rates tell a similar story: from 1970 to 2010, the U.S. marriage rate dropped by almost 60 % before stabilizing. Something is changing—not simply how we date, but whether we actively choose relationships at all.
Loneliness, especially among young men, is part of the equation. A recent data point: 25 % of U.S. men ages 15-34 reported feeling lonely a lot of the prior day, versus 18 % of women in the same age group. That’s not the triumphant “self-sufficient” male—it’s a disconnected one.
So we have: fewer people actively seeking relationships, fewer marriages, and more loneliness. At the same time, the dominant narrative in parts of feminism is “I don’t like men,” and in parts of masculinity is “I don’t need commitment.” The convergence is alarming.
What’s Lost In The Noise
When the guiding question becomes “What can this person do for me now?” instead of “What can we build together?”, you strand partnership on the shore of consumerism. Dating becomes a transaction. Virality and algorithmic reward systems turn detachment into virtue.
Here’s where it impacts Black conservative values: faith, fatherhood, discipline, and community. The cultural critique we champion doesn’t reject feminism or men’s issues—it demands responsibility. It demands that when you say “no” to men in general, you’re not simply stepping away from one flawed archetype and leaning into another: you’re holding out for the good one. And when you say “no” to women in general—or resign yourself to non-commitment—you’re abdicating the role of the man worth marrying.
Let’s push past slogans. Let’s talk service. Because being in a relationship is not about wallowing in bitterness, it’s about working in the presence of someone else’s humanity. It’s about choosing to show up today, not because you have to, but because it matters.
Men, Women — The Part We Each Must Play
For women, independence is meaningful. Agency is essential. But when the message is “I don’t like men,” rather than “I choose a man who is worthy,” you rewrite the script. Agency begins not just in saying “no” but in saying “yes” in the right way. It begins in what you bring to a relationship—not just what you refuse. Listing demands for what someone should do for you without asking what you will contribute flips love into a ledger.
For men: responsibility is not repression. Discipline is not denial. Watching your phone during dinner, skipping family time, avoiding fatherhood—those are not badges of freedom; they are shackles of fear. If you say you don’t need commitment, you’re refusing the platform from which greatness is built.
And for society: when the marriage rate plummets, when half of singles admit they’re not looking, when regret and loneliness rise—this isn’t just a personal problem. It’s cultural. Families and communities strain under atomization. A society that prizes consumption over covenant yields more broken homes, fragmented fatherhood, and childhoods without anchors.
The Way Forward
Reject the lie that love is a transaction. Reject the identity that freedom is zero accountability. Reject the portrayal that vulnerability is weakness and service is subjugation. Real love is not about keeping score—it’s about picking up the board and building something.
Begin by asking the simpler question: What am I doing today to honor someone else’s dignity? Because if you never ask that, you’ve already built your relationship around avoidance—not affection.
Marriage and partnership don’t erase individuality—they refine it. They don’t suppress ambition—they channel it. They don’t demand perfection—they demand perseverance. The man who shows up every single day is more impressive than the man who shows up for the highlight reel. The woman who quietly nourishes home, hope, and covenant is more radical than the influencer who tweets #BoySober and then quietly slides into ghosted DMs.
It used to be common sense. Now it reads like radicalism.
Here’s the cultural truth we must reclaim: the modern feminist who says she doesn’t like men isn’t just rejecting patriarchy—she’s rejecting partnership. The man who says he doesn’t need commitment isn’t rejecting control—he’s rejecting responsibility. Both are symptoms of the same disease: self-worship masked as self-care.
The remedy is older than our culture wars. It’s called humility. It’s called sacrifice. It’s called covenant. Not hip slogans or hashtags—but steady service, slow devotion, mutual building. These weeks of streaming clips and viral dismissals will not stand the test of time. What will is the couple who says: Yes, I choose you—even when you’re weird, even when you blow it, even when I’m tired. Because we are more than consumers of each other. We are stewards of each other.
David Sypher Jr. is a Black political commentator with articles in The American Spectator, The Spectator World, and Human Events
Wrong Speak is a free-expression platform that allows varying viewpoints. All views expressed in this article are the author’s own.
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This was written by AI. “It's not X—it’s Y” all over it.