A woman reporter recently asked Michigan’s U.S. Senator-elect Abdul El-Sayed for relationship advice for men. His answer gave me pause: choose a woman who challenges you every day, someone who pushes you to grow rather than someone you can feel superior to. If a man feels threatened by a capable, high-achieving woman, he should examine his own ego, do the internal work and approach the partnership with humility. I read it this way: a woman who challenges a man is not a threat to his authority; she is an opportunity for mutual growth. Her achievements are no invitation to compete, and her independence is not something to be managed.
I had almost decided not to write another deeply personal feminist essay. Revisiting old wounds comes at a cost, and I have grown reluctant to disclose more of my private history. But this interview, on an entirely different subject, made me reconsider. Perhaps the argument needs to be made again, for younger women if not for myself. His answer was about partnership, but it points to something wider: whether a man can be honest with a woman he cannot control, inside marriage and outside it.
I have increasingly encountered a contradiction: men who describe themselves as happily married may nevertheless seek emotional attention, admiration or romantic possibilities elsewhere, without always being transparent about their intentions. Where, then, do we find men like Senator-elect El-Sayed in Pakistan? There is a common misconception, that a feminist must be hostile to men, incapable of romantic affection or unwilling to experience tenderness. In some conservative circles, feminism is even casually associated with lesbian identity, as though a demand for equality must negate a woman’s capacity to love a man. This, too, is a way of policing women’s identities.
Feminism does not make a woman incapable of loving. It challenges the expectation that she must surrender herself to be loved. In The Will to Change, bell hooks explored how patriarchal constructions of masculinity obstruct men’s capacity for emotional intimacy. Her work suggests that the problem is not women’s growing independence but the expectations of masculinity that make equality difficult to accommodate. A woman can be professionally accomplished and politically conscious while still wanting affection, admiration and tenderness. Being loved is an authentic human need, not a feminist contradiction. Nor does emotional vulnerability make a discerning woman incapable of recognising inequality.
I sometimes remember a woman who occupied public space with confidence: a doctor, a television presenter, articulate and professionally ambitious. A high-profile man pursued her, sought her out at her workplace and eventually pressed her into a marriage he wanted kept discreet. The very qualities that had attracted him, her appearance, articulation, visibility and professional accomplishments became targets of belittlement. Her professional identity was repeatedly turned into a source of mortification. Once, following an ordinary professional convention, she used the heading “From the Desk of Dr Rakhshinda Perveen” in a published report. The response was furious: “Tum ho kya? Queen?” (Who do you think you are? A queen?) She was made to revise the publication and issue new copies. A professional byline had become an affront to someone else’s authority. That woman was me. But she could also have been many other women whose stories rarely reach public conversation. This was not simply about appearance or professional recognition. It was about control and class.
My feminism does not cancel my tenderness. Wanting to be loved does not make a woman less independent or less feminist.
The contradiction persists in contemporary urban relationships. A woman may be welcomed for her intelligence, writing, humour and warmth. Yet when she expresses tenderness, seeks reciprocity or asks for clarity, she may find that her presence has become inconvenient. Many men appear attracted to women’s brilliance but are less comfortable with the autonomy that comes with it.This brings me to the supposedly happily married man who seeks emotional or romantic attention outside his marriage. We should not confuse marital status with emotional integrity, nor assume that a wedding ring guarantees honesty or respect for boundaries. Emotional betrayal does not necessarily begin with physical intimacy. Sometimes it begins with intimate conversations, concealed intentions and suggestions that lead a woman to believe she holds a special place in someone’s life.
A coffee meeting is not, in itself, an ethical transgression. Nor is every friendship between a married man and a woman evidence of deception. Men and women can share meaningful conversation and intellectual companionship without ulterior motives. The question is whether these interactions are conducted honestly, with respect for existing commitments, or whether ambiguity is deliberately cultivated while one person enjoys emotional attention without accepting responsibility for its consequences.
Why should a married man’s search for admiration or excitement outside his marriage be treated as an entitlement, while a woman who responds with genuine affection is left to negotiate the consequences? My greater concern is for younger women and girls. Many are intelligent, educated and seemingly discerning, yet may find themselves drawn into situations of deception, emotional abandonment and promises that dissolve when accountability is expected. Not every woman enters a relationship under duress, and her circumstances may be very different from mine. But education, accomplishment and confidence do not make anyone immune to emotional deception.
It is simplistic, to offer a prescription: “raise better boys,” or a slogan like “HeForShe.” In all honesty, I do not know who will raise a different kind of man. I do know what I would ask of the ones already grown: be honest about what you are offering, and do not mistake a woman’s warmth for permission. And to the younger women reading: your need for affection is legitimate. It does not require you to be available on someone else’s terms. This is not an argument against men, marriage or heterosexual love. It is a demand for accountability. A society cannot celebrate women’s empowerment in public while normalising their emotional disposability in private.
Men know how to sleep with as many women as they can, yet seldom learn how to live with brainy women without hurting them. Which returns me to Senator-elect El-Sayed’s advice. Can men welcome women who challenge them, appreciate them without competing with them, and offer emotional honesty without expecting them to abandon their own identities? Humility and accountability should not be exceptional qualities in a relationship. They should be its foundations. My feminism does not cancel my tenderness. Wanting to be loved does not make a woman less independent or less feminist. But tenderness must never be mistaken for license to cheat, confine or control her.