Remember when Incels were feared, and not just a catch-all for the guys who don’t enjoy getting drunk and hazed at law camp?
2018 was my first year at university, and it feels like eons ago now that I’m on my way out. It’s surreal to recall a time when the Marvel Cinematic Universe was solving racism, Blackpink was still known for making music, and we thought Taylor Swift was on her way out after Reputation’s lukewarm reception.
It was also a drastically different time for me, negotiating my masculinity. Trying to fit in with all the cool kids at halls while figuring out the norms of a new country, I found myself weighed down significantly by an omnipresent awareness that, by the decree of some invisible forces I couldn’t understand (hint: patriarchy, white supremacy), I was not quite enough man.
So when the western world started worrying about the emerging Incel online subculture that year, I paid attention. I’d heard of the term before, but 2018 was when the term first made global headlines, after the Toronto van attack. Many feared that the attack could lead a revolution of terror, spurring a new wave of misogynistic mutinies. I found myself embroiled in several heated Facebook comments section debates on this issue; people talked about this enough that Incel was shortlisted for Oxford Dictionary’s Word of the Year.
Yet now in 2023, it feels like those concerns may have been overblown. Only one subsequent terror attack has been linked by authorities to Incel ideology, and only Canada has taken substantial steps towards addressing the movement by formally declaring Incel attacks acts of terrorism.
There is some doubt over how accurate this narrative is, with the inconsistent and high thresholds for determining that an attack was Incel motivated. But at least Incels have not proven the worst we thought they could be.
Perusing academic literature discussing Incels from the turn of the decade, you get the sense that counter-terrorism experts feared the emergence of a threat like nothing they had seen before. They feared a vile, violent ideology that had the potential to radicalise a militia of sexually frustrated white men from their parents’ basements, who would fight to the death in the crusade against multiculturalism and feminism. They called for quick action to quell this terror threat, with the lives of countless women and minorities at risk.
Contemporary literature paints a slightly different picture of the average Incel. More psychologists have taken an interest in the Incel subculture, and their work suggests the motivations of most Incels are much less valorous, seeking out the movement simply for a sense of community and validation amidst masculinity’s crisis of loneliness. It has also become apparent that the movement is not as ethnically heterogeneous as originally thought, with a significant number of minority men drawn towards Incel ideology for its creative critiques of the racism they experience.
Nowadays, we understand that the threat of violence comes from a small, fringe group of extremist Incels. Most men who brush with the movement don’t stick around it for long, eventually growing out of it and realising there’s much more to life beyond the blackpill.
A big victory since 2018 was when the largest Incel communities were de-platformed off Reddit. There are concerns that this has only pushed the extremist Incels further, but I think this overlooks a more concerning development we’ve seen since – the embrace of incel lingo by the ‘normies’ the Incels despise so much.
It wasn’t long ago that you could pick out an Incel from their use of the subculture’s buzzwords. Nowadays, their jargon and memes have permeated the mainstream. I want to believe that no sane person is out there calling women ‘femoids’, but it’s hard to browse social media these days without encountering mainstream memes that reference the Chad, Virgin and Stacey caricatures – once a secret language of the subculture.
The term ‘Incel’ itself also sees more liberal use in the mainstream, as a result. It’s now not uncommon to see it thrown around to pejoratively refer to any male failing to conform to hypersexual standards of ideal masculinity, or as an irrebuttable ace in the hole against any male online expressing a view not fully aligned with liberal feminist ideas. I’ve seen it especially often in the Subtle Asian Traits Facebook group, in ad hominem attacks–often from women–whenever Asian men speak out on the touchy subjects of sexual racism and their emasculation.
How Incel doctrine has so seamlessly permeated common discourse worries me. The danger of the ideology never came from its roots–not the crisis of loneliness plaguing men, not the frustration that can come from feeling unworthy of love, and certainly not just from daring to go against the grain, questioning society’s superficial standards of value and attractiveness. Incel ideology is dangerous because it dehumanises and scapegoats women, making it easier to justify misogyny and violence against them.
The societal issues that birthed the misogyny infested Incel movement still exist, and are arguably more prevalent than ever before. The pandemic has birthed a generation of awkward and isolated young men, who missed crucial, formative years to explore and develop relationships. We’re also seeing the increased normalisation of online dating, which can easily perpetuate harmful stereotypes about women if you don’t realise how heavily their algorithms and business models are rigged against lonely men. There is also more online content than ever before that feeds and thrives off these sentiments, with figures like Andrew Tate eager to hustle away at male frustration.
The integration of Incel jargon into mainstream discourse risks normalising the ideology’s solutions to these problems, which is bad news. Even if it doesn’t spur the high-severity violence experts initially feared, Incel-esque attitudes can cause lasting harm if manifested in personal and intimate relationships, with the violence they encourage against women.
But as ‘I’m Just Ken’ repeats for the 27th time this writing session, I’m reminded that there’s still hope for a better future. We’re starting to see the celebration of healthier critiques of patriarchal norms, in a manner that directs frustrations away from women without disempowering men, towards the broader societal structures which ensnare us all.
