In a world of movie-star masculinity, Josh Bowman wonders how to reconcile what he thinks is “manly” with the man he truly is.
I can see myself standing in the middle of the town, like Clint Eastwood in Unforgiven, or countless other Western cowboy archetypes. My calloused hands rest loosely on the mother-of-pearl Smith and Wesson revolver handles, jutting out rebelliously from my snake leather belt. I’m squinting like Eastwood does, to block out the noonday sun. My skin is dark and tanned. I’m chewing on a toothpick…
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