His Name Is Robert Paulson: Conformance, Erasure, & Bitch Tits

Content Warning: transphobia, homophobia, gender dysphoria, sexism, misogyny, violence, body dysmorphia, mental illness, disability, toxic masculinity, gun violence, cancer, cults, indoctrination, hormonal disorders, supremacy culture

Like many in my generation, I saw Fight Club (1999, dir. David Fincher) as an impressionable teen growing up in an era where terms like “toxic masculinity” were becoming increasingly common. I grew up in a supremacy culture – white supremacy impacts rural, insular communities deeply, and men were and are still the most privileged, particularly white men. Evangelical Christianity was the majority and the most influential of religions – to the exclusion of most others – in the Pennsylvanian towns I grew up in, and that culture likewise elevated largely white men. But, the internet and major media had given voice to rising progressive and feminist perspectives. 

Fight Club itself would likely never be included in progressive media as something of value, while the original book by Chuck Palahniuk may have more to say than the film. I haven’t been able to read the book for reasons related to this writing, and while I have seen the movie several times since my original viewing, it is harder every time. The hypermasculine violence is visceral and distressing, yes, and complex misogyny by The Narrator and other characters towards Marla, the only woman featured in the film and (to my knowledge) book, is always unpleasant. As someone who considers their religious upbringing cult-like, the indoctrination is also challenging. However, my reasons for a lengthy love/hate relationship with Fight Club are more than that.


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