I must admit that I have never been comfortable with the simplistic portrayals of masculinity that are served up in so many movies and television shows. For the most part the characters lack nuance—they are one dimensional archetypes that simply do not square with the many role models I had growing up.
My father was one of the gentlest and sweetest souls I have ever known, someone who would grieve over an offense to others rather than spare himself pain or discomfort. But he was also someone who fought as a member of the Army Airborne in some of the most bitter campaigns throughout the second world war and he carried the scars, physically and emotionally to his untimely death. He never disclosed anything about his service, what I know of it I learned from his buddies after he died.
My maternal grandfather, a surgeon, taught me about selflessness. He was by every account a brilliant diagnostician and unlike many of his colleagues, a surgeon who was reluctant to operate on a patient if other options were available. He worked very long days as chief of surgery for two hospitals and then saw patients in his own office on days when he was not in the operating theatre. He suffered from heart disease and his cardiologist told him to retire but he continued to see patients 7 days a week and died in his sleep one afternoon after spending his morning hours doing rounds.
My paternal grandfather was an inventor—a choice he made that alienated him from his family of bankers and financiers. Engineers were looked down upon socially, but that did not prevent him from emigrating to the US, attending night school to learn English and founding his own company. He too was brilliant—and made a great deal of money early in his life from his inventions—but lived simply and died nearly penniless having spent his fortune on his work over the ensuing 60 odd years. He was a radical thinker, far beyond most in his vision and curiosity, relentlessly seeking perfection, but uncomfortable with expressing his emotions.
There were others that inspired me in one way or another, a few uncles and friends of my father that I gravitated towards. Some were gruff, others a bit rigid with discipline, but all were willing to teach, to listen and never judged however much it was clear that I was expected to live up to a standard. In fact, those expectations—never stated as such but implicit in the way these men lived served as my framework for character. These and other mentors I have encountered in my life were complex, interesting, passionate and intelligent. They were far from the one dimensional caricatures we see portrayed and they all had their flaws--as do I.
When I look at the models of men in positions of authority or power today, what I see more often than not is best described by the phrase toxic masculinity. The toxicity takes many forms: a lack of empathy or even regard for others—replaced by a swaggering pseudo bravado that betrays fundamental cowardice. Callousness and misogyny are abundant among these so-called men—who are quick to denigrate those with whom they disagree whether about sports, politics, religion, or dozens of other subjects. Add a veneer of inflated jingoistic nationalism gussied up as patriotism—and a sense of superiority and disdain bordering on outright hostility for the weak, the poor, the disabled and anyone different, and you have a portrait of the modern male figurehead.
These are not men; they are images created by little boys to feel better about themselves. Deep inside those who have any self-awareness know they are phonies—but they will go to any end to defend their particular brand of toxicity. Sadly, there are many who continue to worship such men out of their own sense of inadequacy.
Those that belong to the cult of toxic masculinity have traded self-reliance for egoistic pretense, humility for narcissism, service to others for self-aggrandizement. Their worst fear is to be unmasked, to be shown for what they truly are, adolescents that never learned what it is to be a man, what it is to struggle with fear and doubt yet carry on with dignity and resolve. To admit one’s faults, be chastened by the challenges of living life with integrity and strength in the face of adversity requires something far greater than a show of false bravery. The truth lies in this alone, one cannot be a man without being fully human, and to be human we must place everything and everyone before ourselves.
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