I had to explain to a 24-year-old man why I didn’t want to be a trad wife. It’s exhausting

Mosquitoes bit my legs while I stood, listening to a man my age politely explain how he wanted a trad wife. This man, a Polish 24-year-old working remotely as a coder in Thailand, the same holiday destination as mine, at the same accommodation and doing the same fitness camp, said he was saving as much money as he could so he could one day fully support a family.

“If I invest my money well and don’t spend it, I can afford it,” he explained.

I replied: “I would hate that, relying on someone financially.”

He stared awkwardly at me and said he disagreed because, as a man, he felt that was an imperative role.

“I want my wife to stay at home and look after the family,” he said, resolutely.

We stood there quietly for a bit. Despite clearly having things in common, I couldn’t think of anything else to say, and by now, my legs were covered in bites. I went back to my hut and we didn’t speak again for the rest of the trip.

Maybe our difference of opinion was cultural. But in such a globalised society, where manosphere vitriol lands indiscriminately in the algorithms of Australians of all ages, I felt as though he was speaking a language I unfortunately recognised.

It echoed right-wing extremist Andrew Tate’s world views. I remember when women raised the alarm about the self-proclaimed misogynist as he began gaining attention in 2022. I also remember thinking his short-lived prominence represented a small group of men without considering with whom the message was silently resonating.

Meeting young men while backpacking has been an interesting experience. I have found it’s best to avoid talking about politics of all forms – immigration, gender roles, various wars – and focus strictly on day-to-day activities after too many revealed themselves to be racist or misogynistic.

I always returned home thinking young Australian men weren’t as extreme.

These days, I find myself avoiding these topics in conversation with men my age as headlines of alleged schoolyard and sporting sexual assaults tell me it’s not safe here, either.

Perhaps young men across the world saw Donald Trump become US president, despite boasting about grabbing women by their genitals, as a green light to speak of and view women as such. Trump continues to insult female journalists based on their looks, telling a Bloomberg reporter to be “quiet, quiet, piggy” when she asked about his relationship with paedophile Jeffrey Epstein last year.

The alleged inappropriate sexual behaviour of a crew of Sydney Swans players made a media storm and brought into conversation – again – the attitudes young men have towards women. These behaviours riddle other codes, too.

Last November, Penrith Panthers player Brian To’o was caught allegedly making lewd remarks about teammates’ girlfriends on pictures he uploaded to his own Instagram story. To’o allegedly commented on one photo of skipper Nathan Cleary, “The Fowler Slayer”, about Matildas sensation and Manchester City player Mary Fowler.

As a young woman who has to navigate this world each day – reading it in the news, skirting around its edges while backpacking or having to screen it on dating apps – I am exhausted. I feel jaded. I wonder if I am part of the growing percentage of women choosing not to have babies if these are the fathers.

The worst part? I feel I’m becoming numb to misogyny – a combination of being exposed to it more often and trying to avoid being upset by it.

I am shown time and time again that hardly anything comes from the relentless headlines of the alleged rapes, killings and harassment of women. It’s devastating when I see that a study published in August found young men are increasingly holding hostile attitudes towards women.

When I talk about misogyny with young men – a few who hold manospheric views and most who don’t – I more frequently watch the topic glide over them with the same avoidance I am beginning to acquire. They’re tired, too. Maybe for the same reasons as me, maybe not.

My colleague jokes that when she was a young woman, a red flag in young men “was if they couldn’t spell or if their favourite movie was The Shawshank Redemption” .

Now, it’s if young men are looking for a “wifey” or “missus” in their Hinge profile. Before a date, I always check who the man follows on social media in case it’s right-wing provocateurs or hundreds of Instagram models.

The Polish man who wants a trad wife stayed in a hut next to mine. Before the topic of gender roles came up, we shared our anxieties about living in a world overrun by technology, feeling helpless as the world burns around us and experiencing a sense of existential dread because AI has made us feel as though our contributions to society are meaningless.

Yet, somehow, we were still worlds apart.

Kayla Olaya is a culture reporter at The Sydney Morning Herald.