You Throw Like A Girl

Masculinity has been a recurrent theme in my life; partly because I am a gay man, partly because I speak in a muddy baritone voice with an indicative sibilance, and partly because I’ve pursued occupations and hobbies in my life that have (only recently) been deemed feminine. As much as I would like to believe we can create something other than a gender binary, that is the flawed system we currently have to navigate. In order to be clear, I have to declare myself a cisgender male, meaning, I identify and fulfill most of the expected gender architypes consistent with my biological sex. To be blunt: the junk in my head roughly matches the junk in my pants.

 

North American societal norms insist that men be emotionally stoic, and that is a parlor trick that I never have mastered. I am prone to elated highs and devastating lows - sometimes within the same hour - and I have an embarrassingly bad temper, especially if you mess with my kin. I'd like to say I've matured about this, but I can’t. My inability to keep my emotions "under control" is still a major shame trigger for me, and whether it makes any rational sense – I know it does not - it makes me think of myself as less of a man.

When I was a child, little boys who cried too much, worried too much, were too attached to their parents, cried instead of acting out physically when they lost their temper, and couldn't sit down to hours of low grade clerical work without day dreaming, or staring out the classroom window were labeled over-sensitive and sent to the shrink’s office. Over-sensitive…that was the professionally acceptable terminology, what you were called by teachers and students alike was a Sissy. I'm so glad we've evolved since then...

For clarity, when I say sensitive I’m not talking about crying at sad movies, a Hallmark commercial is sometimes enough to do the trick: I have to flee the room every time that damn Sarah McLachlan A.S.P.C.A commercial comes on the screen. My own sensitivity is paired with emotional intuitiveness. I can, and do, pick up on the emotional state of the people around me, including complete strangers, and often find myself vibrating at the same frequency. In other words, do not ask me to go to a supermarket on a Sunday afternoon, when everyone there is stressed out, rushed, and anxious about the week ahead. I will, after a short time, be incapable of clear thought, shut down, and need to go sit in the car.

What my early childhood education did for me, was send the clear and institutionalized message that there was something wrong with me, that made me not worthy of belonging to the group. This is not about fitting in, this is about - to quote Dr. Brène Brown - the irreducible need of men, women, and children to experience love and belonging.

Since the official Sissy diagnosis, I’ve spent years trying to reject who I was, and even longer trying to accept all the parts of me I don’t like. After the torture of grade school, I surrounded myself with other creative types, and participated exclusively in groups and activities where my not liking team sports, and “throwing like a girl” would go unnoticed – or at least unmentioned. I have spent years on the therapist’s couch, and tried a pharmacy of drugs to deal with the negative side effects of being a sensitive “creative” type, and only ended up medicating myself into a numb zombie like state that I could no more tolerate than the Wicked Witch takes to water.

My thinking has always been flawed on this matter: I don’t need to get over it, what I need to do, is make space for it. Invite it in. Sit, and make friends with it, because at the end of the day, I know no other way to be.

What I am, is an emotional “bad-ass,” with mild ADHD, who at this very moment has no idea where his keys and wallet are. I am an introvert by nature, but I’ve always been drawn to extroverted creative occupations. Acting, singing, dancing, music, writing, design, even cooking, are all, at their core, about putting some part of yourself on the line with no control over the outcome. What I’ve been stubbornly doing, is trying to put my work out into the world but somehow avoid the consequences of that choice by either detaching myself from the work, or blaming myself when the outcome was negative.  Focusing on pleasing others, and perfecting the work - and myself - has not rendered the results that I need, because in the end, when I attempt to protect myself from criticism and judgement, the work suffers.  I have only just, FULLY realized that this thing that I didn’t like about myself is the only well of true strength I have to draw from if I’m going to continue to live a creative and purposeful life. And since honesty is one of my values, I have to say I prefer the roller coaster even with it’s obvious dangers, to the flat line drone of a stable emotional life.

I stand behind the statement in my first paragraph, as a gay man my masculinity is called into question more often than some, but no man escapes the societal shaming that occurs when we fail to live up to the extremely confining norms we have for men and boys. It is the go to insult: man up, suck it up, put on your big boy pants, grow a pair, sack up dude, and of course my personal favorite “don’t be a sissy.” This isn’t the same as insulting your personality, appearance, intelligence, or state of mind. In this patriarchal society the primary response is to strip you of the status that comes with your gender for even a slight infraction. There is no room to move within this structure, fall even slightly short, and you’ve failed to fulfill the fundamental potential of your biology.

My point, if it’s not too late to make one, is that current societal expectations are destroying the potential of men and boys. Putting aside the constructs of masculinity for a minute here’s the short list: always demonstrate emotional control, use all resources to pursue status, your career comes first, and violence (self-defense, hunting/fishing, family protection, military service, etc.)

Again, we live in a patriarchal society with a binary construct of gender, and being as that gender binary still functions for the majority of our population, it’s a flawed system that is likely to persist. I have a deep respect for anyone who’s willing to rail against that system, but I’ve reached an age where, let’s just put it out there, I’m running out of time to fight. At forty-seven, the second act of my life has begun. The time for exposition, and exploration has passed, and now I have no choice but to navigate the set-up and plot I find myself in. And maybe I’m just tired, but I’d rather spend my energy figuring out how to navigate the flawed system we have, and let others - with more time and energy - do the fighting.

I have transgendered friends who are at various stages of living their lives as the gender they feel they are on the inside. Their bravery has inspired me to maybe, just maybe, find a little more comfort with my own gender. I’m a dude, I like being a dude, and I really like other dudes. These days I don’t’ really throw like a girl, but there are some of the constructs and societal expectations for my gender that I don’t conform to, and probably never will, and that’s perfectly fine. I’m done letting that affect my sense of worthiness as a man. “’cuz I are one.”

I know things are changing, but at the rate our society accepts change I’m not sure I’ll be alive to see what the new expectations for men will look like, I do, however, have some suggestions. What if we used the metric of integrity to evaluate our manhood? What if being a real man, meant you conducted yourself with accountability? What if your prowess was judged by your authenticity, or fidelity? What if empathy, and bravery replaced heroism, in the cannon of expectation? What if love, compassion and kindness replaced violence, status and emotional control? What if we actually judged men by their character rather than how much money they make, or how well they throw a ball?