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What can ????? ???? ????? ??????? ??????? ????????men do? This question was asked countless times in the days following the suspected abduction and murder of Sarah Everard, who disappeared while walking home in London.

As women and marginalised genders took to Twitter to discuss the ways in which they try to keep themselves safe in public, and called for urgent societal change, many underscored the need for men's support and allyship in the fight against male violence.

On the day police confirmed that Sarah Everard's body had been identified, the hashtag #NotAllMen began to trend. At the same time, many pointed out that men's silence was loud in the conversation following Sarah's death, with the exception of the Not All Men brigade.

Sarah's death is not an isolated event, but forms part of a backdrop of violence against women and marginalised genders. In the UK, one woman is killed by a man every three days. Trans people face some of the highest rates of violence, with one in five trans people facing domestic abuse from a partner, including 21 percent of trans men, 16 percent of trans women, and 19 percent of non-binary people, according to Stonewall. It's important to acknowledge that in demanding justice for Sarah's death in the wider landscape of male violence, we should also honour the women whose deaths did not gain the same level of media coverage or police attention: Bibaa Henry, Nicole Smallman, Blessing Olusegun, Tiprat Argatu, Anna Ovsyannikova, and many more. As Black Ballad notes, 11,631 Black women and girls were missing between 2018 and 2019, but very few of those disappearances made headlines. Black Ballad adds that the past week has "highlighted how little attention is paid to Black women victims, and that is painful."

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Taking a step back over the weekend, I noticed that very few of my male friends had posted anything relating to Sarah's death and the subsequent discussion that it had prompted. How should we interpret this silence? A generous interpretation might ask: Do men not know what to say? Are they concerned that speaking out might come across as performative? Are they staying quiet, but actively listening and thinking about how to help?

Or, do they believe these conversations are futile because nothing can change? Do they find this entire movement uncomfortable because they'd rather continue to benefit from the system of oppression they're upholding? Or, do they quite simply not care?

When I asked one male friend for his thoughts on this question, he told me he believed now is the time for men to shut up and listen, and to avoid performative displays of allyship. I can understand that perspective. As black square season on Instagram showed us in 2020, it's all too easy to post something on social media to make it seem like you're "doing the work" without actually making any meaningful changes to your behaviour or belief systems.

Beyond social media, the burden of dismantling systems of oppression shouldn't fall to those most affected by them — but all too often, it does. Tackling male violence means fighting misogyny on a societal level. That means educating boys and men about masculinity, gender roles, male entitlement, and their behaviour towards women and girls in all contexts, public or private. That education should identify how misogyny manifests in everyday life and the consequences thereof, and should equip people with the skills and confidence to challenge misogynistic comments and behaviour.

Educating the next generation of young men isn't enough, though. Men need to be engaging in conversations about misogyny with other men, be that their friends, brothers, fathers, or partners. The idea of calling out a friend when they make a rape joke might seem a lot more uncomfortable and difficult than staying quiet and staring into your pint until the moment passes, but in times like that, silence is complicity. If you see red flags in a friend's behaviour towards women or marginalised genders, acknowledge them and consider saying something about it. But it's also important to look inward, too, even if you find it uncomfortable doing so. Has misogyny manifested in your own behaviour in the past? If so, how can you change and ensure it doesn't happen again?

Emotional labour is something to consider when thinking about how to learn more about misogyny. Not only that, asking people who may have been subjected to violence to explain how you can help might be incredibly triggering and emotionally exhausting, too. Instead of asking the women in your life to teach you about misogyny, turn instead to the myriad books, podcasts, and TED Talks that are widely available online and in bookstores.

You shouldn't need to be a brother, father, or partner to women to start caring about male violence. Your allyship shouldn't only cater to women you're sexually attracted to either. And your allyship shouldn't only be towards white, cis, non-disabled women — male violence takes place within a larger context of white supremacy, racism, ableism, and transmisogyny.

It's worth noting that speaking out against misogyny comes in many forms and doesn't just happen in the arena of social media. But given that the UK is currently in a national lockdown, there are even fewer ways than usual to make our voices heard. Conversations about male violence are happening online, and truth is, very few men have joined the chorus.If you remain unconvinced that it's your role to tackle the problem of male violence, and instead believe it's the job of the police and criminal justice system, I'd urge you to rethink this position. In the year ending March 2020, 99 percent of rapes reported to police in England and Wales resulted in no further action. Placing faith in carceral solutions to gendered violence means trusting a system that disproportionately targets people of colour. We need to look beyond policing and prosecution as solutions to gendered violence, and instead to societal change.

If you're looking for somewhere to start, donate to UK organisations like Sisters Uncut, Imkaan, Galop, Rights of Women, or any other trans-inclusive anti-violence organisation. Men, it's hard to know what to make of your silence right now, but all I can say is I hope it means you're paying attention and actively listening. Women and marginalised genders need your help in bringing down misogyny and the infrastructure that enables it. We can't do it alone.