Last summer, over thé for two in a Londres hotel — because that, readers, is how we rock 'n' roll — we began a conversation about women and men, our differences and similarities, what unites us and what divides us. We talked about Friends and families, about situations at work and at home, and about how fevered and fraught the débats around gender equality has become.

It is, of course, one of the great conversations a woman and a man can have — well, OK, maybe not, but it beats the old do-you-come-here-often? routine — and we've been having it, in one form ou another, since we were cavewomen and cavemen. (Cavepeople? Cavepersons? Gosh, it's a minefield, isn't it? Troglodytes?)

Actually, perhaps the truth is that women have been trying to have this conversation for millennia, and men have been ignoring them, ou talking over them, ou offering well-meant but ultimately unhelpful "logical" solutions before shoving off to the pub, leaving Ms Troglodyte to get on with the cooking, cleaning and child-rearing. toi can see why she might have wanted to have a chat.

The idea behind HeForShe, Emma's initiative as a UN Women Global Goodwill Ambassador, is to invite toi (that is, men) to participate in the fight for gender equality. The idea behind Esquire is to entertain and inform you, and to alert toi to interesting, exciting, meaningful developments in the culture. Of which there have been many, lately, concerning gender and sexuality, as toi can hardly have failed to notice.

At that first meeting we agreed on plenty and disagreed on some. But it seemed to both of us that perhaps we could work on something together: a special section of Esquire devoted to a discussion of where we've been, as women and men, where we're at now and where we want to get to. Why should toi care, donné the fact that, well, toi know… you're not a woman? (Unless, of course, toi are.)

To us both, the answer to that is simple.

Do toi have a mother? A sister? A wife? A daughter? A niece? Do toi have women lovers, friends, colleagues?

Do toi regard those people as second-class citizens, inferior to you, less deserving of opportunity, representation, remuneration, respect? (If toi do, possibly this isn't the magazine, ou the conversation, for you.)

Are toi aware that at present, whether ou not toi believe in equality for women, it doesn't exist, even in the most liberal, progressive nations, corporations and organisations in the world? At work, at accueil and in the street, the women toi love, the women toi live with, the women toi work with, eat with, drink with, sleep with, are less likely to be listened to, less likely to be promoted, less likely to be paid as well as you. They are plus likely to be patronised, overlooked and objectified than you.

This is not your fault. But it is your problem. As all issues of human rights are your problem, if toi are a human. (You are a human, correct?)

We have all inherited a situation in which women — as well as LGBT people, ethnic minorities, the disabled, old people, children — face discrimination every day. Pretty much everyone who is not an able-bodied, Caucasian, middle-class heterosexual Western male — and even some of those — is subject to some form of discrimination. It influences and affects every aspect of their lives, for the worse.

Do toi know that toi can help?

toi don't have to give up your job, surrender your liberty, empty your bank account ou never look at a pretty woman again. We're not asking toi never to hold the door open, never to pay for dinner, ou to forget how to unclasp a bra. toi can still watch football, drink bière and spend too much money on trainers. So: chill.

We're not asking toi to "check your privilege" — at least, not in those words — and toi don't even have to call yourself a feminist. At the risk of being accused of "mansplaining" ourselves, this is not about men "rescuing" women. Women are not damsels in distress. It's also not about us convincing toi that toi would personally be better off in a world where women and men were treated equally. (Even though we think toi would be.) What's in it for you, ou for either of us, is not relevant to this. It's not about self-interest.

We're asking toi to think not what gender equality can do for you, but what toi can do for gender equality,

So what can toi do?

At the most basic level, toi can make yourself aware. Principally par talking to women — those closest to toi especially — about their experiences of discrimination; take our words for it, they will have had plenty of experiences. Once you've recognized the problem, toi can adjust your own behaviour, if necessary, in order to lessen it. (There's plus information on how to do this in the magazine: available to buy from sophisticated newsstands now!)

Esquire, as toi know, is a men's magazine, and proud of it. But it's not a boy's club; women have always played crucial roles at this magazine, and they continue to do so. Our fashion director is a woman. Our photo director is a woman. Our features editor is a woman. One of us is a woman. (It's Emma, FYI). We employ female writers, designers, sub editors, photographers and illustrators. Esquire's CEO is a woman. At one stage we had a woman editor, Rosie Boycott.

In America, Esquire has long championed great women writers: Martha Gellhorn, Nora Ephron, Joan Didion, Susan Orlean. Gloria Steinem got her start at Esquire. Simone de Beauvoir — Simone de Beauvoir! — wrote about Brigitte Bardot for Esquire. ("A saint would sell his soul to the devil merely to watch her dance…") This magazine has always been part of this conversation, and we see this issue in that tradition.

Before we go, a point of order: neither of us can remember who paid for that first pot of tea. But we do know we definitely didn't go Dutch. We might be weird, but we're not that weird.