Just because you are of age, doesn’t give you the right to call yourself a man.
____
As a teen, I used to think masculinity was shown through my ways and actions, which is not entirely untrue. I used to think I had to have muscles, a mustache, and a loud voice to be very masculine. I used to think that if I was brave, fearless, and feared, I’d be the most masculine kid on the block. It worked for a while. The girls loved it. Then I got into college an a whole different ballgame. I wasn’t prepared. I showed up with this macho attitude, and the young ladies were like, “You strong and all. But what’s that GPA like?”
That was the biggest culture shock ever. Ever since college, I’ve been finding my own masculinity in different aspects of life. I don’t need muscles to make the right decision on which tie to wear. I don’t depend on my facial hair to get me through doors anymore. I don’t raise my voice to get my point across. (Well, just a little bit. I still yell.) I don’t expect the baritone of my voice to automatically grant me access to the finer things in life.
I now know and understand what my Dad meant when he said ‘Hard work pays.’ At first thought, it seemed as if he was only trying to get me to perform hard, laborious work to get money from him. My Dad is a carpenter, and I hated swinging a hammer and getting my hands dirty.
Fast forward, I’m well in to adulthood. I have two sons of my own. I think to myself, “I’m going to have my own business where I can work and get paid, without having to break their backs.” Great idea. I just didn’t follow through with it. I was trying to be a man and a father at the same time. Easier said than done. Well, that’s not entirely true. It can be done, it just has to be done the right way.
I didn’t quite make that complete transition from teenage boy to adult man. I thought because I turned twenty one, it was my birthright. Being twenty one meant being able to go into the liquor store and buy my own alcohol. No more depending on the destitute, impoverished man on the corner to go inside for me. For a small buyer’s fee, of course. I am a man now.
Even before that, I thought I was a man. A manly man, at that. I was the biggest boy on my block. Not the oldest, just the biggest. Every one was shorter than I, weaker than I, even slower than I. Therefore, I was “the man round here.”
I was the fastest, I was the strongest, and I was the tallest. For only a few summers, though. One summer, all my friends shot right past me. It seemed like every one around me had this sudden growth spurt out of nowhere. It was the worst summer of my life. I got teased. I got talked about. I got picked on. I got left out. I wasn’t the man anymore.
How could this be? How did everyone get so tall? Hey, I’m still the strongest, right? Wrong? Strength wasn’t a factor anymore. Strength was shown and proven through sticks and stones, now. I could bend my arm and show a bigger bicep, but that wasn’t enough, anymore.
My manliness was my wit and humor. If I couldn’t be the best fighter. I sure will be the best funny man. That’s what I know.
|
Manliness started being measured by how many fights you won, or how many beers you could drink and how fast you could drink them.
Courage in the face of disappointment.
I wasn’t a fighter nor a fast beer drinker. So, what do I do? I became the funny one. My manliness was my wit and humor. If I couldn’t be the best fighter, I sure will be the best funny man. That’s what I know.
So, through the disappointment, I was able to rise above and still find the man in me. I was mad at the fact I couldn’t compete in the manly matches of the neighborhood. I didn’t fight because I didn’t want my face getting messed up. I didn’t drink beer, at the time, because I saw all the older guys doing it, and that’s ALL they did.
I wasn’t a fighter and I wasn’t a drinker. So, I talked about people. I talked about their fat heads. I talked about them being poorer than me. I talked about them being taller than me. You name it, I dug in it. I even talked about those who were less physical than I, and couldn’t fight at all. I picked on you if you were too tall. I picked on you if you drank too much. I picked on you if you weren’t man enough.
By man enough, I meant, if you didn’t have a girl, I talked about that. If you acted like a girl, I talked about that. If you already had a kid, I talked about that. If your sister had a kid, I talked about that. Nothing and nobody was safe from my comedy wrath.
In retrospect, I know better. I know the difference in being a man and being manly. Speaking of which, is there really a difference? Yes. Being an adult can mean being a man. But, just because you are of age, doesn’t give you the right to call yourself a man. There’s rules to this. Unwritten, unspoken rules. Some, set by society, others set by our closest peers. Either way, society plays a major part.
To be continued.
____
The role of men is changing in the 21st century. Want to keep up? Get the best stories from The Good Men Project delivered straight to your inbox, here.
Photo credit: Getty Images