My week began, like so many others, with a message: "I'm writing an article on male feminists and wondered if you might be willing to answer a few brief questions?"

I replied as I usually do, that I'm happy to help if I can, but on the proviso that I am not a feminist. I'm often called a feminist by others, in roughly equal measures as a compliment and an insult, and I am happy to take it in the intended spirit either way, but it is not how I define myself. The very notion of male feminism has never sat comfortably with me, and when I began writing and blogging more regularly on gender issues, it soon became apparent that it would be a less troublesome for everyone if I did so from outside the feminist tent.

Last week, one of the world's most prominent and controversial male feminists announced he was quitting the internet and would no longer be blogging on feminist issues. Hugo Schwyzer has long been a deeply divisive figure within feminism. Although his blogs and columns at Jezebel, the Atlantic and even (occasionally) Comment is free had their admirers, his troubled personal history made him, to many others, an entirely inappropriate spokesman for feminism. It would be hard to disagree, although the venom and persistence with which he was hounded by detractors across the blogosphere was often breathtaking.

The unfolding news made for sad reading in every way. Between announcing his online retirement due to breakdowns and his own domestic and marital concerns, Schwyzer was hospitalised, then gave an ill-advised interview to New York magazine while on a cocktail of powerful medicines. It was a sorry spectacle, scarcely improved by the celebratory reactions of some of his critics.

Although I disagree(d) with him on just about everything, and we had more of our share of cross words, I wish Schwyzer nothing less than a full recovery and the chance to find the peace of mind that has obviously long eluded him.

In his New York magazine interview, Schwyzer made a particularly telling remark, one I suspect he would have swallowed back, had he had a clearer head. "If you look at the men who are writing about feminism, they toe the line very carefully. It's almost like they take their cues from the women around them."

I've interacted with him often enough to know that Schwyzer has a very dry sense of humour, so I suspect there was an element of ironic self-deprecation at play here, but either way he illustrates the key problem facing any high-profile, self-identifying male feminist. They absolutely must take their cues from the women around them, yield first in disputes and toe the line very carefully. The alternative to that was demonstrated, with customary perfection, by the Onion in a piece entitled "Man finally put in charge of struggling feminist movement".

One can entirely understand the fury with which feminists greet patronising advice from men about how to do feminism properly. Feminism is a movement that is, to a large extent, about challenging societal norms that give men more powerful roles and influential voices. Many male feminists such as the three Michaels – Kimmel, Kaufman and Flood – sidestep this by writing primarily about what men should do among ourselves. However as Schwyzer correctly identified, this can only ever be within the limits set by feminist women. The ultimate goal of all feminists, male or female, is and rightly should be the welfare and social and political emancipation of women. If men are concerned about the problems men face, not just the problems men cause, then the pews of the feminist cathedral are rarely the most comfortable place to sit.

Is it possible for someone to be a bad person but a good feminist? If the personal really is political then no, probably not. However I would hazard that it is much more problematic to be a bad man and a good feminist than to be a bad woman and a good feminist. Women may be cut some more slack for their personal failings and chequered histories, and in the context of the feminist movement, that is probably fair. In my own life and work, I find it hard enough to be a good person, without also having to worry about being a good feminist. If ever one of those two needs to go, it has to be the latter. Feminism can cope without me, I'm sure, and will be all the stronger for doing so.