The polls tell a story of men drifting right.
Eh, maybe. But there’s more to the story.
The real story, obscured by the polls, is that we men–even those solidly in the Republican corner–blindly subscribe to the Trumpian brand of masculinity. Hardly. It’s just that we haven’t had a compelling counter-example who is also undeniably…tough. We need another option.
Gov. Tim Walz can be that–if he decides to really step into the opportunity. Responsibility, even. He can be the model for A New American Strongman.
Because in actuality, men are gettable. And enough of us can be gotten to swing an election. We’re just waiting to be inspired.
Especially gettable are young men and those skewing disengaged, disaffected and distrustful. Which is all that the polls are really saying: That these descriptors comprise growing proportions of the male electorate. An electorate that yearns to be acknowledged and spoken directly to.
But the clock is ticking.
So how could Walz quickly turn this around and turn them out? By giving a version of Barack Obama’s transcendent “A More Perfect Union” speech during the 2008 campaign.
Here’s what “A More Perfect Man” might look like.
Most fundamentally, this campaign is about freedom.
Freedom from things that are no longer serving America. Like freedom from the government telling women what they can and can’t do with their own bodies.
Freedom to be whoever we are. And freedom from old ideas. Ideas like what it means to be tough in America today.
Tonight, I want to talk to men.
Because I’m concerned about our men. I’m concerned that we get certain old ideas stuffed down our throats and feel like we have no choice but to accept them.
But the thing is, we do have a choice.
Our opponents in this race have a very different idea of masculinity than I do.
Theirs is cynical, demonizes others, and seems to always be outraged and in your face about something.
But we men are so much more nuanced and interesting than that. We can care about muscle cars and also gay rights. We can want to both protect women and protect their right to choose. We can be the loudest listeners in the room.
Unlike our opponents, I see men as courageous and caring. Tough and tender. We are confident enough to be kind and strong enough to be vulnerable. To me, that’s real strength.
Look, if you’re angry, I get it. You have every right to be.
It’s not easy to be a man in America right now. We’re struggling. We’re falling out of the education system and falling behind. We’re falling prey to opioid addiction and social disconnection and deaths of despair. And it can feel like people are always telling us not to be ourselves.
The question is, who do we want to be? And not whether it’s okay to be angry, but what do we do with that anger?
Do we just vent it by constantly blaming everyone else for our problems? Worse yet, do we let it build up and have it eventually come out in even more unhealthy ways?
Here’s the only answer: First, let us remember what makes us special and vital to American society. Then, channel our resentments and confusion and loneliness and sadness–yes, it’s okay to acknowledge that we feel these things–into just trying to do and to be better.
At every turn, to just try.
Let me be clear about something: I’m not saying I’m in any way better than you. I am not. I’ve just struggled enough–my whole life, really–with what kind of man I want to be to know that a better way is possible for all of us. That’s all I’m trying to be a lantern for.
Because all I’ve ever tried to do in my life is to Be. A. Better. Man.
To be a better husband and father. A better public servant, soldier, and teacher. And Lord knows, I have not always gotten it right. Nor has it always been easy for me. But for me, being better is a commitment. A commitment to hold myself to an ever-higher bar.
I don’t hold myself to this standard just for me. I do it for the love of my family, my community, my country. I do it for others.
Because, guys, everyone’s looking at us. They need this from us. We are patriarchs and leaders and still hold the vast majority of power positions in this country. Forget what you may have heard: It’s not the end of men in America. It’s just the dawning of a new and improved version of us.
For me, an ever-higher bar means I’ve had to be honest with myself about the traumas that helped shape me, like growing up without money and losing my dad early in life.
I’ve had to be honest with myself about my failures and weaknesses, like a DUI and losing touch with my brother, and just try my damndest to improve on them. It means the next time I get a chance, I just try to do it better: Kinder, fuller, more open.
It also means I’ve had to challenge myself to challenge my views.
I’m the gun owner who realized, like almost all Americans do, especially us responsible gun owners and sportsmen, that we need some sensible laws.
I’m the teacher and football coach who realized that as the coach, I had a special responsibility to stand up for gay students who were getting bullied.
I’m the veteran who served in the military for two decades who realized I could also serve my country as a politician who shows men it’s okay to be joyful warriors.
It’s okay to change our minds. It’s okay to be loud listeners. And it’s okay to share our emotions as we struggle through making ourselves better.
These things don’t make us weak. They sure don’t make us “puffy beta males,” whatever that means. They make us strong. A kind of strong that America needs going forward.
Regardless of who you decide to vote for in November, I hope you’ll do your part, for the sake of each other, to consider what true male strength really looks like. And how you decide to show up as a result.
It’s this simple and this hard: A constant commitment to doing and being better.
I’ve made that commitment, and that’s how I know that all of us can do it.
Won’t you join me?
The water’s fine.
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This Post is republished on Medium.
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Photo credit: Flickr
