I’m a white man. I should probably get that out of the way up front. Now, then:

Women and non-white folk get short shrift in all manner of media. Time after time, they are relegated to support characters and trophies. When, after all, was the last time you watched a feature film in which the primary protagonist was a black female? There’s Precious … uhhh, Catwoman … oh, and that Disney frog movie. (She’s a frog for half of it, but that still counts.) I am having a lot of trouble thinking of others.

In video games, though, the problem is even worse. Most games don’t have playable female characters. Of those that do, the females are usually one or two choices out of a dozen characters (see fighting games), and/or their only real purpose is to feature in one or another state of undress on the cover of the game box. There are, of course, notable exceptions. I could talk about Mirror’s Edge, Metroid Prime, or Ittle Dew, but they are diamonds in the rough. And make no mistake, there’s a lot of rough.

I get ads on Facebook for online games that warn, “Males only allowed,” and show CGI girls thrusting their hoo-has at me in improbable poses. In video games, female armor seems to cover up, on average, about one-fifth as much of their torsos as male armor does. Women in games are constantly getting kidnapped (to spur a man’s rescue quest), murdered (to spur a man’s revenge quest), or just bartered around between male characters like a used lawn chair at a yard sale.

Make a game starring a woman, “they” say, and you’re shooting yourself in the foot financially. (“They” say the same thing about women in movies.) Males play video games, and they won’t buy a game that forces them to play as a woman.

Never mind that women did 45 percent of the gaming in 2013. Never mind that women gamers over age 18 outnumber male gamers under 18 by a factor of 3-to-2 (even if many of those women are, in fact, your mom, who likes to play Words With Friends with people from her high school graduating class … or from your high school graduating class, for that matter).

What “they” say creates a self-perpetuating cycle in which certain kinds of games turn away women because they aren’t represented, and then the game developers are told not to cater their games to women because women don’t buy them.

Marketing zooms in on specific demographics, I get that. The pink aisle is for girls and the black/blue/white/brown/grey/red/green/yellow aisles are for boys. If you can sell more units by indulging your target demographic’s prejudiced and misogynistic tendencies, then gods bless you, you big damn hero of the free market.

OK, now that I’m done ranting, I want to bring up another point that’s sort of been missing from this particular conversation. Even if women made up 0 percent of the gaming population — if something about that mysterious “woman gene” inured them to the sweet, sweet lure of pixelated, interactive media — even then: Why shouldn’t games be made by women, featuring actual female protagonists, with actual feminine perspectives, solely for the sake of the male gamers who would play them?

Perhaps it is because there is a stigma about male gamers playing games as female characters. In many recent games, particularly in MMOs like World of Warcraft and western RPGs such as Mass Effect, where players are permitted to choose dialog options in social situations, it’s become common practice to allow gamers to choose their own gender. Sometimes women play these games with the male option. Sometimes men play them with the female option. Many reasons are cited, ranging from, “If I have to stare at someone’s butt for hours on end, I might as well stare at one I find attractive,” to, “I like the female voice actor better,” but not many of us male gamers are very comfortable telling non-gamers (and sometimes even other gamers) that we enjoy playing as female characters.

For example, I played a game relatively recently called Fortune Summoners: Secret of the Elemental Stones, a game in which the protagonist is a tomboyish 12-year-old who kills monsters with her sword and makes friends with her schoolmates. I absolutely adored the game, but almost everyone I talk to about it looks at me funny. You, dear reader, are quite possibly looking at me funny right now, I shouldn’t wonder.

I’m no pervy old man who gets off on watching underage girls swing “swords” around, all right? The truth is, there’s not much difference between playing a game with a certain protagonist and watching a movie or reading a book about one. Why should I be ashamed of playing Fortune Summoners, but not of watching Pan’s Labyrinth, or reading A Tree Grows in Brooklyn?

I shouldn’t be.

I can watch Pan’s Labyrinth and strongly empathize with the plight of a brave, creative young girl trying to survive the harsh reality of living in a household surrounded by violence. I can read A Tree Grows in Brooklyn and cheer along young Francie Nolan as she struggles to thrive in a society that’s determined to push her down into “her place.” I love these stories. I love that they come from a fresh perspective, one that happens to be so different from my own. Both of them have contributed to my personal and moral growth as a human being.

So in sum, I absolutely want games with well-fleshed-out, interesting female characters for women gamers (who deserve them greatly, though I will let them speak for themselves on the matter), but I also want those games for me. And, for that matter, for my fellow male gamers, who on the whole (and especially among the 12-17-year-old demographic) could probably use the education.

The final paragraph of this article has been modified since its original publication.