A wise man in my life loves the phrase "everyone wants to save the world, but nobody wants to do the dishes." The point, I think, is that true strength and virtue are not usually found in grand acts of heroism, but in daily, deeply unglamorous acts of sacrifice and service for those around you.
I also think we need a revitalization of the idea of *brotherhood,* which in its truest form, is the antithesis of the everything-is-a-competition and everyone-is-an-enemy sort of masculine dynamic that Christman describes. A true brotherhood directs our expression of strength and power away from each other and towards a common purpose.
This is where I get to brag about my dad! He comes from a dysfunctional --- loving to the best of its ability, but still dysfunctional --- family, and he is the softest man I know. He's had to become that on purpose --- he talks a lot about how he has a terrible temper, and in his youth didn't restrain it at all, but we don't see it. He's become that good at controlling himself. He does dishes, and makes food when our mom is sick (he used to work in a restaurant, too, so it's actual cooking, not microwaved stuff), and has come home from a long day at work to a household of crying women and set down his bag and come immediately to the work of mopping all of us up on *innumerable* occasions, without so much as a sigh. He has a soft spot for our rescue cats: one of them took long naps on the couch atop his chest, and two of them now vie for his lap as he works remotely from our basement. (One of them once fell asleep in his work chair, curled up in the blanket, when he got up to take a break, and when he came back he didn't have the heart to disturb him, and so worked from somewhere else.) He cries at weddings and funerals, and goes pink when anybody says anything nice about him. My sister and I have never not known what it means to love your wife and give yourself up for her, because that is what my dad *lives*; that, and leadership as service. This isn't stuff that gets him publicly recognized, and he's been criticized for not being take-charge enough as a husband, but it takes far more strength and self-discipline than curating the visible accidents of strength or manliness.
The types of educational/formational experiences I'd like for my son include NOLS, team sports, language immersion camp, and something like Deep Springs. I want him to experience challenges, test his limits, and learn about the art form that is leadership.
Right now, at 5, self-formation looks like developing compassion by helping out with our (growing) menagerie. Taking responsibility for his actions ("Mom! I spilled!") and learning the give & take of playing with others, including what to do and say when someone says something mean, and what it means to feel and express his feelings. Trying hard things and stretching limits are just a very real and constant part of growing up at this point, and something I don't think we give babies and kids enough credit for!
I don't code any of this as particularly 'masculine'. I'd want the very same for a daughter.
This is a half-baked thought, but I’ve been watching Under The Banner of Heaven and have been struck by its portrayals of different models of masculinity within the contours of Mormonism. In particular, I’m really drawn to the character of Jeb Pyre, and how he both embodies ideal Mormon masculinity and rejects the temptations of abusing the power granted to him by the culture.
I’m not Mormon but grew up in AZ and had a lot of LDS friends growing up. I’ve always been fascinated by the culture, and in particular how the religion is quite patriarchal but counterbalanced with really, really high moral expectations for men. I grew up evangelical, a lot of my other friends were from very conservative Catholic backgrounds, and we all had experiences of the power dynamics of patriarchy in religious structures, but the Mormons were unique.
It seemed like the Mormons were the only ones who had genuinely equal expectations around chastity, and who genuinely counterbalanced the burdens of motherhood with high expectations around fatherhood. Like, if I had a dollar for every politically connected conservative evangelical/Catholic dude I grew up around who was known to have affairs or mistreat their family, I could buy a pretty decent meal at Chipotle. With guac! I genuinely can’t say that about the Mormons in positions of authority that I knew.
I know that there have been abuses within LDS communities and affairs and other problems, so I don’t want to paint an overly rosy picture. UTBOH is literally about how that particular faith could be used for sexist control and literal murder. But still — there’s something really interesting and good about most LDS people’s understanding of the need for balance between power and obligation, even though I can’t buy into the theology more broadly.
"I live out my masculinity most often as a perverse avoidance of comfort: the refusal of good clothes, moisturizer, painkillers; hard physical training, pursued for its own sake and not because I enjoy it; a sense that there is a set amount of physical pain or self-imposed discipline that I owe the universe."
Gotta admit this doesn't sound specifically masculine to me, but like what I thought was expected of teenage girls when I was that age. Sure, clothes should *look* good and your skin should *look* moisturized, but even the moisturizer is about presentation, not comfort.
Like you, Leah, I was a young stoic. It was just the culture in my family, particularly among the women, perhaps for understandable reasons. (We have some heritable health problems in the family that tend to be worse for women.) Looking back, I regret investing so much in an "if you're comfortable, you're doing it wrong" ethos, for reasons similar to what your aikido teacher described. Pain that is sacrifice for some better end makes sense, pain that just *feels* like sacrifice because it's painful, but which doesn't accomplish, and perhaps even undermines, better ends is a waste. And for those with a desire for self-sacrifice, it can be a seductive waste, indeed.
As a man, I honestly find the first quote hard to relate to - probably just because I've always been in very academic spaces, where resorting to physical aggression is going to get you sent to HR rather than being more respected by your peers.
That said, competition and aspiration seem like a core part of masculinity (although like all "masculine" virtues I wouldn't say it's exclusively male, it's just often expressed in a different way by women), most of the men I know would be pathetic in a fight, but are still very concerned about advancing their careers. I'm genuinely unsure of how much of this avoidance of violence is temperament and how much is environment. I do think it comes down to the kind of man you want to be, which comes down to the role models you aspire to be more like, and all of my role models are more intellectual than athletic.
Slightly tangential, but the gentleness of Aikido put me off it, when I did martial arts at university I went for Jiu Jitsu. The masculine violence of it was the main reason I wanted to do it in the first place, although there were quite a few girls who were way more committed than I was! Admittedly, the fact that it was mostly safe was also part of the appeal - regardless of how cool I think martial arts are (both in fiction and in reality), I have no desire to get into fistfights with strangers.
Not sure on the whole “Power felt is power wasted” philosophy - I see where it's coming from, but I think strength directed appropriately can be very productive - that's as true in life generally as it is in a brawl.
Pros and cons to the stoic/masochistic avoidance of comfort - obviously it can be taken to self-harming extremes, but at the same time I do enjoy the satisfaction of forcing myself to complete difficult challenges. The main thing that makes me feel like a "man" (in the sense of being an adult rather than a child) is finishing something challenging, whether that's running 5 km really fast, fixing my bike, painting a wall or writing up a research report.
Reading the comments made me think of something I told my daughter the other day. When you think about or take care of others first, you have less time to focus on yourself. I think that the idea of sacrifice, putting someone else before you, whether you are a man or a woman is the point.
I highly identify with a masculinity of "an intense desire for self-sacrificial love." I feel that for my wife, for my son, for my brother, my parents, my cousins. I would do anything I could for them, and I often put myself second to their desires. I think this is something that people don't quite understand about men, especially as the more progressive-minded people hand-wave away the notion of psychological differences between the sexes.
I also identify with being duty-bound, especially in a structure of hierarchy. I get a bit anxious when my wife and I do conceptual work together, e.g. planning meals or figuring out what should be planted in the yard. But once a decision is made, I have a laser-like focus in achieving those ends. Being set to a clear task and being given the space to accomplish it is where I thrive. Again, this is hard for more progressive people who might want to split every activity 50/50 between spouses, say.
A wise man in my life loves the phrase "everyone wants to save the world, but nobody wants to do the dishes." The point, I think, is that true strength and virtue are not usually found in grand acts of heroism, but in daily, deeply unglamorous acts of sacrifice and service for those around you.
I also think we need a revitalization of the idea of *brotherhood,* which in its truest form, is the antithesis of the everything-is-a-competition and everyone-is-an-enemy sort of masculine dynamic that Christman describes. A true brotherhood directs our expression of strength and power away from each other and towards a common purpose.
This is where I get to brag about my dad! He comes from a dysfunctional --- loving to the best of its ability, but still dysfunctional --- family, and he is the softest man I know. He's had to become that on purpose --- he talks a lot about how he has a terrible temper, and in his youth didn't restrain it at all, but we don't see it. He's become that good at controlling himself. He does dishes, and makes food when our mom is sick (he used to work in a restaurant, too, so it's actual cooking, not microwaved stuff), and has come home from a long day at work to a household of crying women and set down his bag and come immediately to the work of mopping all of us up on *innumerable* occasions, without so much as a sigh. He has a soft spot for our rescue cats: one of them took long naps on the couch atop his chest, and two of them now vie for his lap as he works remotely from our basement. (One of them once fell asleep in his work chair, curled up in the blanket, when he got up to take a break, and when he came back he didn't have the heart to disturb him, and so worked from somewhere else.) He cries at weddings and funerals, and goes pink when anybody says anything nice about him. My sister and I have never not known what it means to love your wife and give yourself up for her, because that is what my dad *lives*; that, and leadership as service. This isn't stuff that gets him publicly recognized, and he's been criticized for not being take-charge enough as a husband, but it takes far more strength and self-discipline than curating the visible accidents of strength or manliness.
The types of educational/formational experiences I'd like for my son include NOLS, team sports, language immersion camp, and something like Deep Springs. I want him to experience challenges, test his limits, and learn about the art form that is leadership.
Right now, at 5, self-formation looks like developing compassion by helping out with our (growing) menagerie. Taking responsibility for his actions ("Mom! I spilled!") and learning the give & take of playing with others, including what to do and say when someone says something mean, and what it means to feel and express his feelings. Trying hard things and stretching limits are just a very real and constant part of growing up at this point, and something I don't think we give babies and kids enough credit for!
I don't code any of this as particularly 'masculine'. I'd want the very same for a daughter.
This is a half-baked thought, but I’ve been watching Under The Banner of Heaven and have been struck by its portrayals of different models of masculinity within the contours of Mormonism. In particular, I’m really drawn to the character of Jeb Pyre, and how he both embodies ideal Mormon masculinity and rejects the temptations of abusing the power granted to him by the culture.
I’m not Mormon but grew up in AZ and had a lot of LDS friends growing up. I’ve always been fascinated by the culture, and in particular how the religion is quite patriarchal but counterbalanced with really, really high moral expectations for men. I grew up evangelical, a lot of my other friends were from very conservative Catholic backgrounds, and we all had experiences of the power dynamics of patriarchy in religious structures, but the Mormons were unique.
It seemed like the Mormons were the only ones who had genuinely equal expectations around chastity, and who genuinely counterbalanced the burdens of motherhood with high expectations around fatherhood. Like, if I had a dollar for every politically connected conservative evangelical/Catholic dude I grew up around who was known to have affairs or mistreat their family, I could buy a pretty decent meal at Chipotle. With guac! I genuinely can’t say that about the Mormons in positions of authority that I knew.
I know that there have been abuses within LDS communities and affairs and other problems, so I don’t want to paint an overly rosy picture. UTBOH is literally about how that particular faith could be used for sexist control and literal murder. But still — there’s something really interesting and good about most LDS people’s understanding of the need for balance between power and obligation, even though I can’t buy into the theology more broadly.
"I live out my masculinity most often as a perverse avoidance of comfort: the refusal of good clothes, moisturizer, painkillers; hard physical training, pursued for its own sake and not because I enjoy it; a sense that there is a set amount of physical pain or self-imposed discipline that I owe the universe."
Gotta admit this doesn't sound specifically masculine to me, but like what I thought was expected of teenage girls when I was that age. Sure, clothes should *look* good and your skin should *look* moisturized, but even the moisturizer is about presentation, not comfort.
Like you, Leah, I was a young stoic. It was just the culture in my family, particularly among the women, perhaps for understandable reasons. (We have some heritable health problems in the family that tend to be worse for women.) Looking back, I regret investing so much in an "if you're comfortable, you're doing it wrong" ethos, for reasons similar to what your aikido teacher described. Pain that is sacrifice for some better end makes sense, pain that just *feels* like sacrifice because it's painful, but which doesn't accomplish, and perhaps even undermines, better ends is a waste. And for those with a desire for self-sacrifice, it can be a seductive waste, indeed.
As a man, I honestly find the first quote hard to relate to - probably just because I've always been in very academic spaces, where resorting to physical aggression is going to get you sent to HR rather than being more respected by your peers.
That said, competition and aspiration seem like a core part of masculinity (although like all "masculine" virtues I wouldn't say it's exclusively male, it's just often expressed in a different way by women), most of the men I know would be pathetic in a fight, but are still very concerned about advancing their careers. I'm genuinely unsure of how much of this avoidance of violence is temperament and how much is environment. I do think it comes down to the kind of man you want to be, which comes down to the role models you aspire to be more like, and all of my role models are more intellectual than athletic.
Slightly tangential, but the gentleness of Aikido put me off it, when I did martial arts at university I went for Jiu Jitsu. The masculine violence of it was the main reason I wanted to do it in the first place, although there were quite a few girls who were way more committed than I was! Admittedly, the fact that it was mostly safe was also part of the appeal - regardless of how cool I think martial arts are (both in fiction and in reality), I have no desire to get into fistfights with strangers.
Not sure on the whole “Power felt is power wasted” philosophy - I see where it's coming from, but I think strength directed appropriately can be very productive - that's as true in life generally as it is in a brawl.
Pros and cons to the stoic/masochistic avoidance of comfort - obviously it can be taken to self-harming extremes, but at the same time I do enjoy the satisfaction of forcing myself to complete difficult challenges. The main thing that makes me feel like a "man" (in the sense of being an adult rather than a child) is finishing something challenging, whether that's running 5 km really fast, fixing my bike, painting a wall or writing up a research report.
Reading the comments made me think of something I told my daughter the other day. When you think about or take care of others first, you have less time to focus on yourself. I think that the idea of sacrifice, putting someone else before you, whether you are a man or a woman is the point.
I highly identify with a masculinity of "an intense desire for self-sacrificial love." I feel that for my wife, for my son, for my brother, my parents, my cousins. I would do anything I could for them, and I often put myself second to their desires. I think this is something that people don't quite understand about men, especially as the more progressive-minded people hand-wave away the notion of psychological differences between the sexes.
I also identify with being duty-bound, especially in a structure of hierarchy. I get a bit anxious when my wife and I do conceptual work together, e.g. planning meals or figuring out what should be planted in the yard. But once a decision is made, I have a laser-like focus in achieving those ends. Being set to a clear task and being given the space to accomplish it is where I thrive. Again, this is hard for more progressive people who might want to split every activity 50/50 between spouses, say.