Recently, I’ve noticed an increase in online discussions about misandry and the frustration it is causing among men. I wanted to share my perspective, not to make sweeping generalisations about either gender, but to reflect on the current state of gender politics. These are issues we can no longer ignore or pin entirely on one another.
Misandry, commonly understood as the counterpart to misogyny (the hatred of women), refers to the hatred of or hostility toward men.
It has been well documented that the modern world feels like a battleground of the sexes. Perhaps it has always been this way, but with social media and constant global reporting, we now witness worrying statistics and public hostility within seconds.
We live in a time where both sides appear to be in crisis. On one hand, there is what many call a male loneliness epidemic: young men are socialising less and struggling to form meaningful relationships, especially romantic ones.
On the other hand, there has been a visible rise in “I hate men” rhetoric, often starting online and bleeding into everyday spaces. Many women appear increasingly distrustful of or exhausted by men, leading some to interpret this as a surge in misandry.
For most women, I don’t believe the sentiment is truly that “all men are dangerous.” But we cannot ignore that we live in a world fuelled by media reports of violence against women, so frequent that some have described it as an epidemic. Even in countries with legal protections for women, equality is still undermined by deep-rooted biases.
These biases are often unwritten but widely felt ensuring you have a safe way home after dark, calibrating every interaction (being friendly but not too friendly, polite but not inviting), knowing employers may view married women as “pregnancy risks,” and navigating spaces where your safety feels uncertain even when nothing has yet gone wrong. These experiences are not rare. They are everyday calculations.
Then there is the increasingly undeniable influence of rising right-wing populism across major Western countries. This isn’t just about political disagreement; it’s about the cultural permission it grants for overt misogyny to resurface.
When public figures like Donald Trump can openly dismiss or mock allegations of sexual misconduct, dodge accountability for documented abuses, or casually belittle female journalists on live television, it sends a clear and chilling message about how seriously society is willing to take women’s safety and dignity.
These moments are not isolated sound bites. They signal to millions, particularly young men, that undermining, dehumanising, or joking about women is not only acceptable but can be celebrated.
At the same time, social trends reinforce this regression: the glamorisation of “trad wife” ideology, a revival of 2000s-style hyper-thin beauty standards, body-checking culture becoming normalised online, and influencers selling submissiveness as empowerment, just to name a few.
Each cultural wave chips away at women’s autonomy, making it feel as though progress is not only stalling but reversing.
For many women, it becomes exhausting. These factors accumulate and weigh heavily on daily life, shaping everything from how they dress to how they speak to how they navigate the world. The “male gaze” is not an abstract term, it’s a constant filter through which women must assess their safety and social acceptance.
Add to this a declining job market, economic instability, and widening inequality, and the pressure becomes overwhelming.
Within this context, it is not surprising that misandry appears, at least to some women, as an understandable emotional reaction. It is not “hatred for hatred’s sake,” but the boiling point of decades of frustration, exhaustion, and consistent vulnerability in a world that still fails to protect them.
In that sense, misandry can feel like the most logical consequence of the treatment women face. But logical does not mean healthy, and it certainly does not mean productive. Without systemic societal change, neither misandry nor the male loneliness epidemic will improve. Both are deeply rooted in the same underlying issue: rising intolerance, frustration, and mistrust between genders.
It’s equally important to recognise that men are facing a crisis of their own. The male loneliness epidemic is not simply about dating difficulty or social isolation, it is contributing to a broader mental-health emergency. Across many countries, men represent a disproportionate number of suicide cases, often linked to chronic loneliness, pressure to suppress emotion, and the absence of strong social support networks. While women battle fear, bias, and societal constraints, many men battle silence, shame, and invisibility. These struggles are not opposites; they are parallel consequences of a culture that pits genders against each other instead of encouraging empathy, vulnerability, and connection. The hostility between genders only deepens this divide, making it harder for men to seek help and harder for women to feel safe, ultimately harming both.
We see similar patterns globally. The 4B movement in South Korea emerged in response to entrenched misogyny and patriarchal expectations. It encourages women to opt out of traditional roles entirely – rejecting dating, marriage, childbirth, and heterosexual relationships.
This movement did not appear out of nowhere. It grew from exhaustion, from a sense that existing systems would never protect or value women. And while extreme to some, it illustrates how gender tensions can escalate when systemic change fails to materialise.
From my perspective, it feels almost inevitable that tensions would reach this boiling point. I’m not saying the hostility is justified or ideal but it is real, and it affects everyone. Even if someone feels insulated from these issues today, they will impact someone close to them: daughters, sons, siblings, partners.
This “battle of the sexes” has no winners. It is mutually destructive.
To move forward, we need recognition and empathy from all sides. In a world that feels increasingly intolerant, we are accelerating toward a future defined by division rather than cooperation- a world less safe for women, more resentful for men, and more hostile for everyone caught in between.
Without joint effort and systemic change, we risk creating a social environment where frustration replaces understanding and fear replaces trust.