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1. They were boys once.
They lived in playgrounds and locker rooms and campgrounds and basement dens. They played games and watched movies where men speak little and do lots. Where action equals intent equals character equals hero, and no one who ever came out on top paused to wonder if they might have handled things a little better. They built each other up and tore each other down again and again, until the lesson was learned: this is the Code, this is the Code, this is the Code.
2. They worked hard for their success.
They took hits, chances, advice, and crappy jobs. They got the experience, and the breaks. They caddied and served, then dined and played. They did their time in the places men gather, whether they liked it or not. Look, they were told, there is a pecking order—but it’s okay. The women are pretty much all below you. And you can climb the ladder if you just keep the Code, keep the Code, keep the Code.
3. When they made it, they shared the love.
They got awards and money and Twitter followers. They got lovers and bromances and leading ladies. They took their place in the Brotherhood of the Black Tie. Thanked Mom/God/The Amazing Co-Star Who Should Really Be Up Here/The Person Whose Story This Really Is. They chose a cause, a wife. Now that they could relax at last, they got a little bit political, a little bit woke. They Instagrammed #dadonduty pics and liked pussy-hat selfies. It was all right, this new, rose-tinged version of the Code. They could live with it. It was, like, just a millennial version of neutral.
4. They tried to be allies.
A retweet here, a diversity panel there. Some were so woke, they even tried gently to rouse a bro or two. But then someone pulled this inception stuff, and it turned out they were stooges in one of their own plot twists! All along, shilling for the guy behind the curtain, the kingmaker with the big checkbook and friends in high places, the one who gave them their start, who taught them the Code, who it turns out is the stone cold terror-monger behind the cartoon bad guys. Who knew?! Well, all right—but who knew what to do?! Okay, okay, who knew what to do that wouldn’t incur long-term consequences for their own career?! Dude, the Code did not have a section on this.
5. It’s every man for himself out there.
After the revelations, some stayed quiet and were hunted. Some made statements and got snorts of derision. Some invoked their wives and daughters, and were skewered by all the other wives and daughters in the world. Some wrote about spectrums of behavior, due process, their own transgressions. They were torn limb from editorial limb. Some apologized and were spat on, some didn’t and were spat on. Many were accused, fired, or jumped before they were pushed.
One thing was certain: the Code was broken, and with no Code, they had no voice. Not on the one thing that mattered most, the only thing by which they knew they would be judged.
So they learned to talk without speaking. To smile without feeling. When the night came, and the names were called, each man knew well that though the spotlight was on him, the camera wasn’t: it panned hungrily from powerful woman to powerful woman, finding the arched eyebrow, the curling half-smile, the sideways glance, glowing in a sea of black gowns like details in a Caravaggio. Eyes that met and glinted and spoke a new, wordless code.
Up there on the stage, alone and with everything to lose, what could the men do but stand, tired old script in hand, mouthing tired old lines under a thousand waiting, judging, eyes?
Now, finally, maybe, they understand.
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This post was originally published on medium.com, and is republished here with the author’s permission.
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Photo credit: Getty Images