Stop being the PR manager for shitty men
Why are we still protecting men who hurt us?
Divorce has been a hot topic of conversation around me this summer.
Not firsthand (Brad and I are good), but our inner circle has been a goopy soup of heartache.
Perhaps it’s because we’re all in our 40s now, and you are therefore required by law (and hormones) to select your midlife crisis of choice:
Affair
Body/workout obsession
Career pivot
New fancy car (or eBike for the more practical)
Going on an Eat Pray Love walkabout
For whatever reason, my elder millennial friends be OUT THERE.
And the attitude behind many of the breakups I’m witnessing has been less conscious uncoupling and more MAY THE BRIDGES I BURN LIGHT THE WAY.
Someone who has been consciously spilling the tea about her own divorce this summer is labor and delivery nurse, author, and influencer, Jen Hamilton. If you don’t know who Jen Hamilton is…well, we all live in very different algorithms, don’t we?
In mid-June, Jen posted a cryptic Instagram Reel that went batshit viral as she vague-booked something about her husband of 15 years, Brian Hamilton. It sounded like they were separating. She felt betrayed. She was shocked and saddened. But she was being purposefully tight-lipped, letting her tears do the talking.
The media went wild with speculation, as did her fans, who all have the wildest parasocial relationship with her (myself included). WE MUST PROTECT JEN AT ALL COSTS, we agreed collectively. And (possibly?) sensing our support, Jen’s Instagram content has evolved over the last 6 weeks from sad, cryptic posts, to honest and DESCRIPTIVE AS HELL reels outlining specifically what her ex-husband did. The posts are (rightfully) filled with fury.
This woman has ZERO fucks left to give and I am sat.
The (only) cool part is that instead of the community dragging her for “airing dirty laundry” or being “petty” or “dramatic,” we’re cheering for Jen.
In fact, she’s been inspiring other divorcees to speak up and be honest about how the terrible men in their lives all sucked, too. Something that I guess most of these people were just secretly sitting on for years and years…
I can’t speak for Twitter (I left that dumpster fire years ago), but Jen Hamilton has LIT UP Threads. It’s overflowing with women talking about their own experiences of serving as quiet, unpaid PR managers for their exes.
It got me thinking…we women spend an astonishing amount of time acting as unpaid PR managers for the men who hurt us.
We soften our language. We omit the worst parts. We bend over backwards to protect their reputations, telling our loved ones that “he’s a nice guy; it just didn’t work out.”
We carefully edit ourselves so no one thinks less of him.
Somehow, the person who got hurt becomes responsible for protecting the person who did the hurting.
It’s a bizarre social contract. The person who lies, manipulates, intimidates, or betrays someone often gets to walk away with their reputation intact…not because they earned it, but because the person they hurt decides carrying the truth feels heavier than carrying the secret.
I was 22 when my first serious relationship ended. And I worked OVERTIME as the publicist for a man who had a dark side that was downright scary. He was possessive and controlling. Insecure. Forbid me from talking about our relationship to my friends. He never hit me, but there were a few times where I thought he might. There was yelling. Wild condescension. Stalking. Harassing my next partner who came after him. In a fit of rage, he pressured me to throw away some of my journals. An absolutely unforgivable act for a writer.
And yet, I told VERY few people what was actually going on.
“It just didn’t work out.”
“We weren’t compatible.”
“We grew apart.”
It’s scarily easy to hide the truth inside ambiguous buzzwords. Most people won’t question you beyond your pre-approved publicist response.
Over the years, I’ve asked myself, why did I protect him?
And the answer is simple: I felt stupid. I felt weak. I feared that telling people the truth about how he manipulated and scared me would make me look pathetic…instead of making HIM look like the predator he was.
I was working double-time as BOTH of our PR managers. For free.
This has also had me thinking of the absolute wild assemblage of abusive men who were featured on Season 4 of Netflix’s dating show The Ultimatum. Watching The Ultimatum this season felt like watching emotional abuse in high definition.
Luckily there were cameras rolling to capture some of the red-pilled-to-hell things the men were saying to/about their partners which included:
“Shut the fuck up”
“My whole life I’ve had my mom take care of me. So my wife has to be like my new mom, I would say.”
“Have you fucked her yet?”
“You went from a big-titted blonde bitch to a flat-ass brunette bitch.”
“I don’t want you to make me look dumber than you already have. You ruined it. You ruined everything. You fucked us over…I honestly hope to God you two weren’t touching on camera…who knows what else you’ve done…”
Just…the level of vitriol on this show was unlike anything I’ve ever seen on reality television (and I watch a LOT of reality television).
So, why do we do backflips to shield the men who actively hurt us?
I mean…I know why.
Speaking honestly about an abusive or controlling man isn’t always just uncomfortable; it can be dangerous. We know this because we’ve seen, over and over again, what happens when some men believe they’ve lost control…and it’s terrifying.
And sure, yeah: not all men. Obviously. This isn't an indictment of every man. It's an observation about an unspoken protective order a whole lot of women will recognize immediately.
The older I get, the less interested I am in protecting men from the consequences of their own behavior. If you don’t want us talking about how awful you are, maybe try being less awful.
It’s a good reminder. If someone treated you terribly, you don’t owe them a polished press release. Or a carefully worded Instagram-ready statement that makes everyone comfortable.
The truth is messy…so what if we just let it be messy?
What if we shared honestly…not to win the breakup, but because telling the truth is how we stop carrying someone else's secret?
What if we cared less about the press and more about the release?
This is so true and something that's so hard to see in the moment. I hope this finds its way to exactly the readers who need to read it...this is the kind of brave writing about hard things that can have such a powerful impact.
This is a tough one because I do it and have been doing it for many years… I could write you another 15 pages on the topic lol. You’ve raised all valid points and it’s all so true. I like when you said “if you don’t want us saying awful things then stop being so awful !”