I’ve been thinking about male privilege for some time now. It’s similar to economic privilege—thanks to some conditions, a certain group of people can enjoy advantages and opportunities that other groups of people cannot. But unlike economic status, which can rise or fall over time, being male is hardwired into my identity. And there are implications to this that I’ve only begun to come to terms with.

Wherever you will find them, straight men are privileged in spite of themselves. Whether they like it or not—whether they’re even aware of it or not—being a heterosexual male means that one need not worry about the serious possibility of scrutiny, discrimination, or even violence by virtue of one’s gender. It means that one need not inquire into the status quo because the whole system is already working, and has always worked, in one’s favor.

Being a straight male means that one is not necessarily expected to see male privilege as a problem; men, after all, are both the products and heirs of today’s patriarchal structures. But this isn’t to say that being male and having good intentions are mutually exclusive. I have a handful of male friends who share with me a genuine desire to work towards gender equity, if not yet through large-scale institutions then at least through day-to-day interactions.

But along with this privilege comes a blind spot—there will always be aspects to the realities of sexism and gender-based prejudice that men will never fully understand, precisely because they do not experience these injustices firsthand. Within this conundrum, the question emerges: How can heterosexual men, privileged in spite of themselves, possibly respond to the challenges inherent to contemporary feminism?

One starting point comes in acknowledging that just because men can contribute to this direction does not necessarily mean that these problems will be solved immediately or for the long-term. There are limitations to what men can do, as today’s problems involve sustained empowerment on the part of marginalized genders, not to mention deliberate collaboration between the different sexes.

Still, I’m of the belief that men can do something, and perhaps a foundational step lies in beginning to unlearn the social and cultural conditioning brought about by patriarchal privilege. Male privilege has allowed men some unquestioned capabilities and liberties, but men need to learn to be responsible with how they exercise these liberties. For a heterosexual male to enjoy the comforts of this privilege without once thinking about the bigger picture means that he is essentially one of the many obstacles to addressing today’s gender issues.

All in all, it would do well to recognize that an awareness of this privilege should not end with merely feeling culpable or complicit to these gender-based injustices. Reflections on male privilege ought not to be a guilt trip, but rather a call to further action, an invitation into this level of consciousness and its direction.

Realistically speaking, this discussion is simply an entry point into a much larger, more arduous involvement in feminist advocacies. But the necessity of envisioning the role of men in today’s feminist developments cannot be discounted, nor can it be ignored. The point, after all, is not merely to comprehend or to sympathize, but to constructively work towards better conditions for all people, regardless of gender.