myAlthough the Garrick Club voted in early May to admit women after an incredible 193 years of uninterrupted bro vibes, the problem of anachronistic men's clubs isn't going away anytime soon. This week, another elegant men's-only establishment, London's 140-year-old Flyfishers' Club, based in a large clubhouse in Mayfair, has come under scrutiny for its no-women policy. Noted fisherwoman and instructor Marina Gibson, who just wrote the book. Throw, catch, releaseshouted the club, whose patron is King Charles, at the Hay Festival this week. In response, club president Alastair Collett said The Daily Telegraph this week that “the matter is under consideration” and may be put to a vote by members.
The existence of a fly fishing club in the center of London is quite curious. For anyone unfamiliar with Mayfair, it's a decidedly landlocked area, where you can't find any fish except the £46 sea bass on the menu at Claridges next door. But perhaps just as curious, amid this long-overdue examination of gentlemanly hegemony, is how little we recognize that our cliques, cliques, and personal best friends are as ruthlessly same-sex as the obsolete institutions now coming under scrutiny.
There is absolutely no social stigma around the idea of men only hanging out with the boys, lads, or lads on Friday nights. Or women who just have brunch with the girls, the ladies, or the Huns on a Saturday. Just as defenders of old clubs falter in saying “it's traditional,” our penchant for ruthlessly gendered leisure experiences is so dyed in the wool that we rarely stop to question it. We don't mock or belittle an all-female reading group in one corner of the pub, or rip off a group of men at their monthly curry night in the other corner. It really is worth a moment of self-examination. I'll start.
Having spent my childhood and adolescence in a close-knit group of boys (think The intermediates Satisfies The last wine of summer), I spent my adult life actively staying away from “the boys” as much as possible. I made a lot more friends, had about eight bachelor parties (compared to just two bachelor parties), and generally enjoyed breaking gender norms along the way. Only after becoming a parent and seeing children gravitate very naturally toward playgroups of their own sex did that change a little. I began to crave – in moderation – “the boys” again, as a way to tap into the feelings I had as a child again.
Asking people why their main squad is made up only of other men or other women (apart from romantic or sexual reasons if they are not heterosexual) is revealing. Try it sometime. The themes are usually the same, regardless of genre: the feeling of being able to be free, of being yourself. A feeling of joy in being yourself, of being less pressured than in mixed settings, a feeling that nothing is forbidden in a conversation. Of course, there were some differences too. The possibility of talking about relationships came up a lot among women who dated men. Among men who date women, a shared interest emerged in not wanting to talk about serious topics, such as relationships. But the similarities easily outweigh the differences.
The other unifying factor is that everyone sighs when asked why they tend to socialize in groups of their own gender identity. No one living in the here and now of 2024 is proud to spend so much time among their own kind. There is a common feeling of slight shame and guilt: they know deep down that they should mix more, they know that they seem anachronistic and old-fashioned. Ultimately, though, they don't give each other any shit. Their needs were met by being in these same-sex cliques and that was it.
What you realize is that being in a same-sex bubble is okay, as long as there is a justification for it. This also extends to institutions. woman's hour on Radio 4, for example, may have started in 1946, but it has to exist because female representation in the media is still dismal. Men's Sheds, the initiative where men find community through crafts and mending, are justified because they have been shown to break the stigmatization men have about their mental health and loneliness.
What you realize is that being in a same-sex bubble is okay, as long as there is a justification for it.
By contrast, the gentlemen's clubs or most male-only Freemason lodges that still bafflingly exist in the UK lack a comparable justification. It is exclusively about power, maintaining the elites and delimiting a small group of humans as “the establishment.” Garrick members like Stephen Fry and Hugh Bonneville might think they are worthy because they campaigned for women to be admitted, but they still knowingly joined a boys' club. (The Garrick Club, until last month, had the exclusion written into its rules.) I have a hundred times more respect for a group of men on a destructive stag weekend in Amsterdam than I do for a group of men gathered at the Garrick Club, all pretending to be socially minded and at the same time completely selfish.
As strange as it may seem, I think we can all learn from the mistakes of these clubs. It's okay to spend quality time in your gender bubble; The trick is to be completely upfront and honest about it. because you do it. If it gives you freedom, say so. If you need that space to be yourself, that's valid; just make it clear when you don't allow others to join you. Preach the virtues of your own gender tribe, not the defects of another. Everyone needs their happy place, and if it's in a same-sex bubble, do it. Congratulations – you are now infinitely more useful than a 193-year-old establishment in Mayfair. Use your powers wisely.
