Nick Alexander wonders if his consideration of violence as an option—when it clearly was not the best option—was a method of reinforcing his masculinity to himself?
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A man pushed me today for no apparent reason.
I was on Nostrand Ave between Herkimer and Fulton, at about ten minutes after eight on a Tuesday morning. I noticed a man who I’ve seen several times before in that same spot. He is tall, maybe 6’1″, and skinny but not gaunt. He probably weighs in around 185. He has somewhat of a six pack and a lean torso. I know this because he is always shirtless. His brownish green pants hang a couple of inches below his waist and it is unclear whether or not he wears any kind of underwear. I would venture to say no. His pants have at least one significant tear that runs horizontally across his right hamstring. He has short hair and a stern face although I have never really looked him in the eye—it’s New York, you just don’t do that.
He was particularly agitated this morning. He always seems rather unhappy but this day he was more animated. With his chest heaving, he paced in small circles until finally ending one trip with a swift kick from his right foot to a trash can. The trash can fell over with some contents spilling out. Thanks to the sanitation department, it was rather empty. He puffed away triumphantly.
I was about 10 feet away from the trash can incident. I considered picking up the fallen victim; I hate it when people deface the neighborhood. I opted not to pick it up because I did not want to stir any further hostility with a man who obviously felt strongly that the trash can should be laying on its side.
He then circled the fruit cart, still heaving and puffing but also pumping his arms as if trying to excite a crowd. I didn’t look at him directly. Even if I had, my sunglasses should have blocked the fact that I was looking at anything.
I passed him. Then I felt two palms, one on my right shoulder and the other on my right shoulder blade. They were followed by an angry shove. I took two or three quick lunges forward and slightly left to compensate for the extra momentum. I found myself saying “stop it, man” in a rather conversational tone. With less than a second to react, I had to decide whether I should fight or leave. I figured that since it was one shove and there was no striking, there was not likely going to be any follow through. Plus, unlike him, I did not have a good reason to fight anybody.
I continued to cross the street, careful not to look back at him but diligently watching my shadow to make sure it was not about to be attacked by another shadow. I was also listening for footsteps. During one glance at my shadow I saw him from the corner of my eye turning away to return to his circling of fruit carts and kicking of trash cans. I guess in this situation, ignoring his shove made him pursue something else.
There were two traffic cops standing on the other side of the street so I crossed to speak with them. While crossing, I continued to think about what I would do if he attacked me. Would I punch him? He was much taller and had greater reach than I so that may not be the best option. Would I try to take him down and then choke him out? That seemed more feasible. Or would I continue to dodge him until help arrived? I think I would have gone with the latter. There was no good reason for me to put myself or him in danger if it could be avoided. Also, as a minority in the neighborhood, I had to be careful about how my actions could be perceived. Isn’t that a strange thought? Talk about turning the tables.
One traffic cop was directing traffic and the other was on her phone talking about a ConEd bill. I interrupted the one on the phone assuming that what she was doing was less important.I told her “there is a shirtless man over there kicking trash cans and pushing people. Can you watch out for him?”
“He’s pushing people?” I answered yes. Technically he only pushed me. But I am people, right? Also, I don’t know if he pushed someone else earlier and they walked away. And what if he pushed someone else later that morning? And what if that person fell? Or didn’t ignore him and chose to fight? She said she would call the police, a response that I found slightly reassuring and slightly ironic.
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Unlike womanhood, manhood is widely viewed as a status that is elusive (it must be earned) and tenuous (it must be demonstrated repeatedly through actions).
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Later, as I recorded this incident in my journal, I began to analyze the situation. I questioned why I even thought about fighting the man. I questioned why I needed to include in my journal entry that I could probably take the man down and put him in a choke hold. I couldn’t answer either of those questions until I listened to an HBR podcast a week later about working fathers needing a balance in their life. The speakers reference a psychology study that draws this conclusion: Unlike womanhood, manhood is widely viewed as a status that is elusive (it must be earned) and tenuous (it must be demonstrated repeatedly through actions). Was my consideration of violence as an option, when it clearly was not the best option, a method of me reinforcing my masculinity to myself? Were the man’s violent actions against me and the trashcan his way of asserting his masculinity—possibly because they had been threatened by mental illness, homelessness or food insecurity?
In my life I have encountered firsthand the violent capabilities of males through an abusive father, friends who drink too much, and living in a densely populated city. If violence and aggression are methods to demonstrate manhood which is constantly being threatened, as the research above suggests, then we are in serious trouble. Even the possibility of this being true begs our society to have a conversation that many are ignoring. We need to talk about why violence and aggression are common, go-to “credentials” for manhood. We need to talk about why we constantly feel the need to demonstrate our masculinity. We need to define masculinity and live it so we can be role models for other men and help them understand the implications of pushing back.
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photo: faceme / flickr
Beyond simple. Our evolutionary roots. The end.
You did great, Nick.
Sure, you might have talked to him. Asked if you could help. Slip him $20. Probably all with bad results.
You thought clearly. – masculine
You weren’t baited into violence – masculine
You had contingency plans – masculine
You would have handled it if he attacked – masculine
You talked with other men about it – masculine
It’s done. Did great.
Over analyzing and obsessing: not masculine ;^)
Nicely put, Steve.
Agreed.
John,
I don’t think the primary purpose of me telling him to stop was to assert my masculinity. Rather, it was an automatic response I had for the primary reason of ending the altercation. I believe its possible that the reason for my later consideration of violence was more to assert masculinity than to stop the incident. But I guess it all really depends on whether violence is used as an absolute last resort or not.
Also, thanks for the boxing lesson. I’m more of a wrestler so that is a helpful hint 🙂
@ Nick One of the reasons I love martial arts is it’s often counter intuitive. I friend of mine saw my 5 pound ankle weights and asked me if I was working on leg strength. I smiled and told her on my quickness. 5 extra pounds won’t really make you stronger, but when you take them off, you can fly. Another time a friend saw me doing pushups on my knuckles and finger tips. He asked me why I’m doing that. You’re just strengthening the same muscle groups as a regular push up. It’s not to strengthen the muscles in… Read more »
@ Nick “don’t think the primary purpose of me telling him to stop was to assert my masculinity. Rather, it was an automatic response” One last lesson in martial arts; when you practice you’re essentially trying to make your reactions habit, just a natural reaction like basketball players shooting a basketball. You don’t always consciously reflect on it, sometimes you just do it. Just because it was a natural reaction doesn’t mean it wasn’t asserting your masculinity. I think asserting our masculinity is something that we’re taught and is an instinctive reaction. Do you think most women in that situation… Read more »
Why do you think telling him to stop it wasn’t asserting your masculinity? You were definitely standing up for yourself and you were cautious looking for his shadow. I could be wrong, but I took that to mean that you weren’t backing down from a fight either if you had to defend yourself. I don’t see why this wouldn’t be seen as masculine. The only question I would have is would it have made a difference if he were smaller than you? BTW reach advantage is relative. When opponents are far away, the guy with the longer reach has an… Read more »
You handled that situation extremely well. Good on you for keeping a clear head. Aggression on your part would surely have escalated the situation, to the benefit of no-one. The idea that manhood and aggression are ways to demonstrate manhood is toxic, I believe. It gets in the ways of finding presence in yourself, of just being.
Not that I believe aggression is always bad. It’s a tool, and it can be a useful and appropriate tool. But it’s a tool we should be very careful with, in particular when coupled with violent action.
Thanks Lars. I really like your explanation of aggression as a tool that must be used appropriately. That is a very profound and accurate analogy. I’m going to think of that way from now on.