In a post-feminist culture there is nothing more challenging than a man who is sensitive and who carries with him the air of mystery. Because mystery flies in the face of everything that Patriarchal thinking says a man should be. And post-feminism, as I will not tire of saying, is just another version of Patriarchy.
Post-feminism/Patriarchy would far rather see men remain pathological objects, remain repressed. Because in that, there is certainty of a sort. However physically dominant the men are, they are still just dogs. And that is much better than having men being fully rounded, authentic and tuned into the momentary gestalt. The post-feminist still wants men to be controllable.
The mysterious man is avant garde, he is dangerous because he has sexual power that is not grounded in his muscular prowess. He is not controlled by the ego. He is not defined by externals.
He walks and makes no noise. He sees two hundred yards in all directions. He lives with a 360 degree spirit. His spine is rooted in the fire of the earth and touches the goddess at the tip. His sense of himself is not contingent. He is part of the chaos of the seasons and he is content with that. He needs no perfected identity, because his identity is rooted in the ambiguity of nature.
The avant garde man embodies the erotic. Through tens of thousands of years of Patriarchal culture, men have been cut off from their erotic birthright. Seduced by the false power of material domination, they have lost their connectedness to the dark gentleness of unknowing, the thrill of the risk. The failure of the hunt.
To be a man is not be successful. It is not to be excellent. It is not to be powerful. To be a man is to be able to stand at the precipice, to be able to confront failure and destitution, and stare down the tiger.
It is to be at home with terror. And yet not ruled by it. Some confront their fears by growing to love them. They are drawn to abusive relationships. They seek out pain.
The avant garde man neither shrinks from, nor courts his fears. He nevertheless remains intimate with the idea of death, with the dissolution of his material ego.
In Patriarchal culture, men seek security, status, dominance. In post-feminist culture, women seek that too, conflating such ambitions with equality.
The avant garde man knows that to seek security and safety, to make a fetish of certainty, is a doomed project. He knows that there are no guarantees in the world of nature. That one's ego is not cherished by the laws of the universe. And yet through this he finds some wierd comfort. He finds his erotic liberation.