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I’ve written about how my father tried hard to convince me the world is a miserable place that will relentlessly try to beat me to a pulp, figuratively and literally. While the world can indeed be a tough place, I was fortunate to eventually develop a much healthier (but still pragmatic) outlook.
It’s probably not surprising that my father’s prescription for combating the “mean old world” looks a lot like what can be described as “toxic” male behavior:
Always be on high alert for threats from other men, always try to be intimidating and ready for a fight, don’t show emotions or ask for help because that means you’re weak, and remember that all women are scheming harpies that seek to manipulate you at every turn.
Of course, my father did indeed try to indoctrinate me into adopting the extreme lone wolf, hyperaggressive, and misogynist stance that are the key hallmarks of the darker side of manhood. This vision of masculinity has no room for empathy, cooperation, or tolerance. Indeed, my father showed me none of these virtues in his approach to my supposed “male education.”
So, in response to the question posed by Andy Grant: no, I have never been ashamed of being a man. But the sad fact is, other men have tried to make me ashamed of the man I am.
My father had strong expectations of how a man is supposed to behave, and I fell woefully short of said expectations. When I was young, I was much more introverted. Since then I’ve become more outgoing, even though I still feel more energized when alone or at home with my family. My introversion was a major concern for my father; to him, it was a sign of timidity that either indicated weakness or, even worse, a sign of being gay (which, among the cardinal sins against macho manhood, is tantamount to murder).
If the specter of the “dreaded” homosexuality wasn’t bad enough, there was my predilection for reading lots of books. Instead of showing an interest in playing sports, talking about cars, or laboring on mechanical devices, I usually had my nose in a science fiction or fantasy novel. This was yet another sign of my lack of “real” manhood.
Then there was my refusal to see women as evil, no-good nagging hags. The sad irony is that women probably treated my father poorly because he treated them like shit. But this is the central problem with the flawed logic of misogynists: maybe if you treated women like human beings, they would return the favor. But try getting a macho guy to question the foundations of his beliefs, or suggest his antagonistic worldview itself may be the source of his troubles, and get ready for an epic argument fueled by rabid denial and subconscious self-loathing.
Unfortunately, my father was nowhere near the last of my fellow males to question my manhood and attempt to steer me back onto the straight and narrow path of proper manliness. But he was the first, and the most damaging.
Though I dodged the bulk of his poisonous indoctrinations, I found myself bitter and angry from years of struggling to survive under his psychic browbeating. This anger was a real double-edged sword: it fueled me in my ambitions to be a better man than my father, but it also plagued me with a host of negative mental and physical issues.
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It took me years to cool the fire of my rage toward my father and to accept that he was a product of his toxic masculine programming. Releasing my negative feelings toward him freed me from the deleterious effects of anger, and I’ve practiced a lot of radical forgiveness. I realized my rage was only hurting me, not my father.
Though I’ve transcended much of the trauma of my childhood relationship with my father, there are still issues that linger. I haven’t seen my father in years. I have no familial urge to hang out with him; in what might be a bitter irony for a supposedly well-meaning parent, he was “successful” in trying to make me a loner, in that I don’t need my father in my life.
Sometimes the old anger flares up, and I find myself seething at the memory of the mental and emotional abuse I suffered at the hands of a man I was supposed to be able to trust the most, a man that showed me vast amounts of disapproval and mockery instead of parental love.
What I know is that I am determined to make sure my son knows that I support him, and love him, and I’m not afraid to show it. Above all, I’m going to teach him, through word and deed, what my father never taught me: a “real man” is someone who is strong enough to feel the entire range of human emotions, confident enough to avoid blaming others for his problems, and respectful of all other human beings no matter their sex.
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Photo credit: Getty Images
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Lovely piece Anthony.
Thank you very much!