A Queer Take on the Man vs Bear Debate

Content Warning: mentions of violence against women and LGBTQ+ people, rape.

If you’ve scrolled through social media at all over the past few weeks, you’ve probably seen a little of the “man vs bear” debate that’s taken the internet by storm.

A TikToker asked some women who they would rather run into if they were alone in the woods: a man they don’t know or a bear. Overwhelmingly, the women stated they’d rather stumble across a bear. The debate has since spread like wildfire across nearly all social media platforms.

Innumerable men in the comments took offense and then attempted to “mansplain” why the women made the wrong choice. The justifications women shot back were sobering. 

“People would believe me if I told them I’d been attacked by a bear.”

“I wouldn’t be forced to carry my attacker’s child to term in twelve states if my attacker was a bear.” And so on. 

As a person who is queer, was socially conditioned female and regularly goes hiking alone, I thought I could add a different perspective to the debate. 

I live in Atlanta, so there aren’t many truly off-in-nature hiking trails. I usually go to a local park or traverse the trails within Stone Mountain Park. 

When I hike at Stone Mountain, I regularly see trail markers, trees, and rocks vandalized with phrases like “No Gays.” It’s disheartening, but I usually shake my head and keep moving.

Last week, though, I stopped at a port-a-potty near the trail after finishing my hike. When I opened the door, I saw that someone had written in Sharpie, “Gay is mental illness” repeatedly –like a child writing lines for punishment– on all four walls of the stall. 

Frankly, I have to question the mental stability of anyone who would voluntarily spend unnecessary time in a used port-a-potty in the middle of a Georgia summer (especially to write lines), but I digress. 

Juxtaposing that experience with the current “man vs. bear” debate, I was reminded of Hannah Gadsby’s ground-breaking Netflix comedy special “Nannette.” In one part of the show, the characters describe a time they were misgendered at a bus stop. 

While waiting for the bus, Hannah (a rather masculine-presenting person) started flirting with a woman who was also waiting. After a bit of conversation, the woman’s boyfriend came up and reared back his fist as he prepared to punch Hannah. He then stopped and said, “Oh–it’s a girl! Sorry. I don’t hit women. I thought you were a [slur for gay man] cracking onto me girlfriend.” 

Hannah then joked to their audience about how they know that, as a queer person, it’s their “responsibility” to lead straight folks out of ignorance whenever possible. Still, Hannah left him in his ignorance and let him walk away. If only that’s where the story ends. 

Later in the special, Hannah recounted how the man returned and said, “I get it. You’re a lady [slur for gay man]. I can beat the sh*t out of you.” He proceeded to do exactly that.

I’ll pick the bear every time because a bear won’t take the time to debate if I’m queer enough to assault. 

That said, there’s one exception I would make: If I could tell that the man is part of the LGBTQ+ community. Typically, queer men have had to unpack their own brand of toxic masculinity to accept and affirm their own queerness. They’ve done the work, and I immediately feel at ease around them.

Funny enough, gay men who have beards and “dad bods” are known across the LGBTQ+ community as “bears.” So, depending on the gay man, I’m still picking the bear.

The thing I can’t shake in this global conversation, though, is all the self-proclaimed good men in the comments trying to convince women that they were making the wrong choice. They tell these women they are being afraid for “no reason” and need to think better of their fellow humans. They feel these women’s fear stems from a place void of compassion.

Perfect love may cast out fear, but love isn’t a solo endeavor. Women and LGBTQ+ people are afraid because–by and large–straight, cisgender men don’t love the women in their lives well. They don’t treat us as their neighbors. They don’t view us as their equals. They don’t view us as people worthy of dignified treatment.

The Centers for Disease Control reports that more than half of all women in the US have experienced sexual violence in their lifetime. According to the National Sexual Violence Resource Center, one in five women has experienced attempted or completed rape in their lifetime. Of those women, one in three experienced the first –again, first– incident between the ages of eleven and seventeen. 

Those stats are true in my friend group and my family and have been true in nearly every classroom I’ve ever sat in. I guarantee it’s true in your church–maybe even more so. 

In an article I wrote earlier this year about purity culture, I discussed recent studies that found Christians steeped in purity culture are more likely to believe rape myths at higher rates than people outside of purity culture. That is, they are more likely to believe that women “ask for” rape via their dress and mannerisms, and that it’s impossible to rape your spouse because sex is a “marital obligation.”

Is there any wonder why women pick the bear?

Additionally, the Williams Institute at UCLA School of Law found that transgender people are four times more likely than their cisgender counterparts to experience assault of any kind. The Human Rights Campaign keeps an annual tally of how many trans, nonbinary and gender nonconforming people are killed in the U.S. simply for being genderqueer. 

Why would anyone not pick the bear?

Until cisgender men learn how to love women and LGBTQ+ people better, there is reason to fear straight, cisgender men we don’t know. We’ll pick our survival over your hurt feelings every time.

If you’re a cisgender man reading this, thinking to yourself, “But I’m a good person–I’d never hurt anyone. It’s not fair for a woman to be afraid of me because I’m not the problem,” I want to lovingly suggest you stop putting the emphasis on berating women and redirect it toward you and your friends. 

Instead of asking, “Why are these women making this choice?” ask yourself, “Who are the men in my life that are causing the women in my life to respond this way?” I guarantee you know several. 

Once you identify those men, talk with them. Figure out how all of you can unlearn the beliefs and practices that make our society less safe for anyone who’s not a straight, cisgender man.

Not sure where to start? 

Here are some suggestions:  Hold each other accountable for “locker room talk” for wondering if a woman was “asking for it” because of how she was dressed. Read about the experiences of women. If the women in your life feel like sharing their experiences with you, listen without interruption or judgment. 

The cisgender men in my life are men I trust because I see them doing the work. I see them having these hard conversations with their guy friends. I see them teaching their kids about consent from a young age. 

Moreover, I see them listening to me when I share my experiences and what I need in order to be safe. They don’t dismiss my experiences as exaggerated or my fears as paranoia. 

In short, they believe me. That’s what love looks like in action, and I love them for the love they show me. 

Again, perfect love may cast out fear, but love is not a solo endeavor. You can’t expect women and LGBTQ+ people to act lovingly toward you if you don’t love us enough to create a world that’s safer for us.