Looking back, I can pinpoint the precise moment I became a feminist. I was 17, a bright-eyed student at Warwick University, with a well-thumbed copy of The Female Eunuch clutched in my hand.

There in the lecture hall in front of me was Germaine Greer, empowering us all with talk of women’s liberation.

During the years that have passed since — some of them spent as the editor of Cosmopolitan magazine — the advances made by the women’s movement have been extraordinary.

The Red Pill film has provoked outrage among women’s groups. Its feminist director, Cassie Jaye, (above) has been pilloried for questioning her own beliefs about women’s roles in society and the consequences of feminism for men

I’ve witnessed the introduction of the Sex Discrimination and Equal Pay Acts, the recognition — and criminalisation — of rape in marriage, the right for women to be taxed separately from their husbands, not to mention massive improvements in maternity rights.

But for many years now — and as the mother of a son in his late 20s — I’ve had a growing sense of unease about what these achievements have meant for men. If, over the past half a century, women have been noisily smashing through glass ceilings in almost every field, then at the same time it seems as if men’s voices have been slowly drowned out.

We may have been building a better world for ourselves, but men, it seems, have been left behind in a way that will have negative repercussions for us all.

I say this knowing that I risk incurring the wrath of the sisterhood because, as we shall see, there are few arguments as incendiary as the debate over men’s versus women’s rights.

A controversial new film, The Red Pill, due to be released next month, has raised hackles by taking a closer look at today’s gender wars and questioning whether or not it is men who are the real losers in the battle of the sexes.

With the gender pay gap still yawning wide and men showing no sign of relinquishing the top spots in business around the world, it’s easy to scoff at the very idea of them being at a disadvantage.

But the fact is, in some crucial areas, they are. Take, for example, the fact that, according to the Higher Education Policy Institute, ‘a boy born in 2016 will be 75 per cent less likely to attend university than his sister if the present trends continue’.

That’s no feminist victory, it’s a terrifying prediction which will have widespread ramifications, not just for men in the workplace, but for relationships between men and women as well.

'We may have been building a better world for ourselves, but men, it seems, have been left behind in a way that will have negative repercussions for us all'

We have to ask ourselves why this is happening and investigate whether teaching now unwittingly works against boys from the earliest years, as some experts suggest.

There are theories that the paucity of male teachers in primary schools is holding boys back and that a lack of male role models at secondary school is also discouraging them from applying to university.

Here’s another disturbing statistic: across the UK and Republic of Ireland, men are three times more likely to take their own lives than women, according to the Samaritans.

And yet women are twice as likely to be diagnosed with depression.

Women are also much more likely to talk about mental health issues, while men rarely come forward and are therefore less likely to get treated.

This isn’t a question of rights, but of men still feeling that to own up to psychological issues would be seen as a sign of weakness — a sign, if you like, of being less of a man.

TURN TO DRINK 37pc of men admit they drink alcohol to cope with low mood or anxiety – but only 30pc of women do the samE Advertisement

Which leads to another ‘tug of war’ men find themselves in: on the one hand, they’re encouraged to look like pumped-up superheroes, because for girls today, nothing less than a David Gandy lookalike will do. On the other, they must be kind and sensitive.

They must also be brilliant fathers — and put in as much work as women when it comes to parenting — but when it comes to break-ups, it is mothers who often have the upper hand.

The perceived silencing of and unfairness meted out to men, particularly when it comes to parental access and financial support after divorce, has led to an increasingly vociferous alliance of men who blame a conspiracy of vengeful women, bias in the courts and feminist-dominated social services for ruining their lives and their relationships with their children after separation.

The battle lines are being drawn, and it’s only going to get uglier.

The Red Pill, due to be released next month, has raised hackles by taking a closer look at today’s gender wars and questioning whether or not it is men who are the real losers in the battle of the sexes (stock image)

So have men really been disenfranchised by feminism? The Red Pill certainly makes a compelling case. Its title is taken from another film, The Matrix, in which Keanu Reeves’ character takes a red pill to see ‘the truth’.

Men’s rights activists claim that they see the ‘truth’ about women and a world they now believe is rigged in women’s favour.

Not surprisingly, it has provoked outrage among women’s groups. Its feminist director, a fiercely intelligent young American actress-turned-film-maker called Cassie Jaye, has been pilloried for questioning her own beliefs about women’s roles in society and the consequences of feminism for men.

By daring to make a sympathetic film about the men’s rights movement, the 30-year-old has been shocked to find herself verbally attacked and ostracised by members of her own sex. Jaye described herself as a feminist when she set out to investigate the ‘hate groups’ of the men’s rights movement.

For more than two years, she spent hundreds of hours with the internet’s most notorious activists (for balance, she also interviewed the group’s fiercest opponents among feminists).

It changed her entirely. ‘When I started this project, my perception of men’s rights activists (MRAs) was definitely negative,’ she said. ‘I thought it would be a peek inside this mysterious, misogynist community.

The Red Pill highlights the men’s issues that are rarely aired, from the lack of support for male victims of domestic violence to the fact that more than 90 per cent of workplace fatalities are male (as men tend to have the most dangerous jobs) (stock image)

‘All I knew of them were the cherry-picked, shocking comments used on feminist websites.

‘But when I really started to listen to them, I started to emphathise with a lot of their issues.

‘Our cultural conditioning is that women have been oppressed and that men are the oppressors. But I saw that wasn’t so.’

When backers got wind that Jaye had begun to question her own feminist principles, the money soon began to dry up.

The project was on the verge of being scuppered before the financial hole was filled via crowd-funding — putting a plea out on the internet, proffering a sob story and a virtual begging bowl — and loans from family and friends.

Jaye gathered support from all over the world. ‘People were disgusted that one side was trying to silence and prevent this film being made.’

Across the UK and Republic of Ireland, men are three times more likely to take their own lives than women, according to the Samaritans

When it was shown in the UK for the first time in a London hotel basement one Saturday afternoon last month, there was no red carpet and not a celebrity or canape in sight.

According to Richard Elliott, the man who bought the rights to screen the premiere: ‘No one ever looks at the ways in which men are powerless.’

Elliott is a semi-retired handyman whose interest in the men’s rights movement stemmed from his own experience. He and his partner separated around the time their son was born, 19 years ago.

‘If it had been a 50/50 arrangement, I wouldn’t have had to pay my ex anything,’ he says. ‘But by restricting my access to two nights a week — which was not my choice — I was required by the courts to pay £230 per month.

‘I’ve had to get past a lot of bitterness in order to reach a calm point and I want to look to a future where men and women can resolve differences without throwing rocks at one another.’

Elliott acknowledges that there’s aggression coming from both militant feminists and some men’s rights activists. He says he doesn’t ascribe to the misogynist views of some of the extremists within the men’s rights movement.

Linda Kelsey says: 'I have watched the film and although, unlike Jaye, I have no intention of renouncing the feminist beliefs I have held since I was 17, there can be little doubt that, nearly half a century on, it’s time to listen to the other side of the debate' (stock image)

There are two things he says he wants to campaign for.

Firstly, for men’s right to know if they have children and, secondly, for the law to assume an equal right to parenting.

The issues are complex, but they go right to the heart of the question of whether feminism has disenfranchised men.

It used to be that when a girl got pregnant outside of marriage, she became a victim, an outcast.

Now, it’s women who are seen to have the power. There is no doubt that some women use men as unwitting sperm donors, simply informing them that they have become pregnant and then excluding them from further contact. Meanwhile, many men feel they’ve been left behind.

The Red Pill highlights the men’s issues that are rarely aired, from the lack of support for male victims of domestic violence to the fact that more than 90 per cent of workplace fatalities are male (as men tend to have the most dangerous jobs).

The film features Erin Pizzey, who opened the first refuge for battered women in the UK in 1972, but has since fallen out with the sisterhood for suggesting that women in abusive relationships are often themselves violent. Statistics back up her claim.

According to the Crime Survey for England and Wales, there have been 600,000 male victims of domestic abuse in the last year alone.

There have been 600,000 male victims of domestic abuse in the last year alone

While this compares to less than half the 1.3 million female victims in the last year, it is still a figure that demands urgent attention.

According to Women’s Aid, there are more than 500 refuge and support services for women and children in the UK — but the ManKind Initiative, which supports male victims of abuse, says there are only around 20 for men, offering 82 spaces, compared to around 4,000 for women.

Mark Brooks, chairman of the ManKind Initiative, points to the welcome £20 million of government funding awarded to refuges earlier this month, but notes this funding is specifically for female victims.

A new organisation, The Men and Boys Coalition, brings together charities and pressure groups which advocate for males across a raft of issues, ranging from health and education to separated fathers, as well as trying to help create ‘a positive and constructive discussion about men, manhood and masculinity’.

At the end of The Red Pill, there is an extraordinary moment when film-maker Jaye states: ‘I can no longer call myself a feminist.’

I have watched the film and although, unlike Jaye, I have no intention of renouncing the feminist beliefs I have held since I was 17, there can be little doubt that, nearly half a century on, it’s time to listen to the other side of the debate.

Personally, I see no conflict between my feminist credentials and recognising the need to face up to the disadvantages faced by men in today’s society.

The time has come for women to recognise the ways in which boys and men are missing out, because what good will it do any of us if future generations of men are under-educated, angry and unable to provide healthy role models for our — and their — sons?

Suicidal, lonely — the men pushed to the brink

Tanith Carey

As he entered his GP’s consulting room wearing a sharp blue suit, Paul Cox looked every inch the successful businessman.

But just 12 hours earlier, Paul, a 42-year-old commercial property consultant, had stood at the edge of the River Thames and considered throwing himself in.

Disappearing into the freezing water was the only way he could think of silencing the endless swirl of anxious thoughts in his brain.

Paul, a 42-year-old commercial property consultant, above, had been trained to fulfil a traditional masculine role — but the old-fashioned entitlements of his gender are no longer a given

‘To the world, I projected an air of total invulnerability, as if my life and career were going just as planned,’ Paul says.

‘However, the head office reorganisation I’d done recently had backfired. I’d reorganised myself out of a job and was now working on a consultancy basis. On top of that, the property market had collapsed.

‘As I walked back along the river on that windy November day after looking at a site for a client, all I could think was: “It looks awfully comfortable in there”.’

Like many, Paul had been trained to fulfil a traditional masculine role — but the old-fashioned entitlements of his gender are no longer a given. As women become better qualified and are often seen as more conscientious, men are 45 per cent more likely than them to lose their jobs involuntarily.

My career was in crisis but I felt I couldn’t admit it to my partner

Yet expectations about being strong and silent still live large — around 42 per cent of men say it’s a man’s job to take charge in a crisis, compared with 17 per cent of women. So is it any wonder men are feeling the strain — but can’t admit it?

Until the day Paul sat opposite his doctor, he had not told a soul how he felt.

Supporting his partner while she completed a psychotherapy course, he felt burdened with the pressure of keeping up their lifestyle — expensive holidays, nice cars and meals out — as well as regularly cooking dinner after work.

Until the day Paul sat opposite his doctor, he had not told a soul how he felt. Supporting his partner while she completed a psychotherapy course, he felt burdened with the pressure of keeping up their lifestyle as well as regularly cooking dinner after work

And as his career went into a nose-dive, all his feelings of failure were magnified.

Paul, now 50, said: ‘I was like a swan: serene on the surface, yet padding like hell underneath to keep afloat. Though my career was in crisis, I felt the societal pressure to suck it up and not complain.’

Like many men, he sought solace in long hours and alcohol, nipping for a drink in the pub rather than telling his partner how bad the situation was. ‘It helped to numb my anxious feelings and camouflage the situation,’ he says.

Paul finally got psychiatric help, but it cost him his relationship and his family home. ‘Until that point, ending it all was the only way I could think of to silence the constant self-critical dialogue which accused me of not living up to everyone’s expectations — including my own.’

Research shows that 29 per cent of men worry when they lose their jobs that their partner will see them as less of a man.

Author Sean Patrick, 28, above, from Liverpool, felt burnt out only a few years into his career as a project manager at a museum. Sean says: ‘For my generation, there’s this pressure to go out there and do something great and amazing.

So it is for John Keane, 50. John, who lives in Ham, Surrey, inherited traditional ideas about masculinity from his childhood, when his pilot father was the boss while his mother stayed at home to look after the children. Now he has lost his job in publishing — and cannot find another.

In the meantime, he has tried to help his wife, Jane, make up the shortfall by helping to run the household so she can work longer hours as a web designer.

But though the couple, who have a ten-year-old daughter, are getting by financially, John still feels emasculated.

‘No matter how many gourmet dinners I cook, how many school pick-ups I do, or how well I do the shopping, none of these things makes me feel useful,’ he says.

Indeed, the pressure is so great that men feel it at the start of their careers too. Author Sean Patrick, 28, from Liverpool, felt burnt out only a few years into his career as a project manager at a museum. Sean says: ‘For my generation, there’s this pressure to go out there and do something great and amazing.

It all became too much when, after catching a glimpse of his tired, miserable face reflected in his computer screen one lunchtime, he suffered a panic attack so severe he felt he would pass out unless he left

‘We are taught it’s all about us, our careers, our success and it’s hard to live up to that. It’s never just about finding a job we love. You are supposed to have the body of a God, too, and feel judged if you don’t have that. There was always a running commentary going on in my head, asking: ‘Do I look impressive enough?’

It all became too much when, after catching a glimpse of his tired, miserable face reflected in his computer screen one lunchtime, he suffered a panic attack so severe he felt he would pass out unless he left. He later resigned and went travelling to try to get some perspective, and wrote a book about his experiences called That Guy Who Loves The Universe.

For Paul, it is relief that he got off the stress treadmill just in time. He still works as a property consultant, but is not as goal-driven or as concerned about how successful he looks to others.

He believes that in the same way as working women should not to try to be superwomen, men should not be expected to be supermen either.

‘If you’re a man, you shouldn’t be seen as weak for talking about this. If the mental health of men and women were treated the same, that would really be equality.’