On Wednesday I talk about the best things I’ve read, watched, or heard in the past week. Today, a longer discussion of an article that piqued my interest…
The worst time I had on social media was when I had the temerity to say, ‘why do we need to know someone’s gender, honorific, or background before we decide how to greet them? Just be respectful, we’re all humans!’ This got me dogpiled by “sad puppy” science fiction fans who somehow correlated it with “banning words,” which I found especially interesting, given that they’d probably treat an AI or robot respectfully and call them whatever pronouns they asked to be. (Maybe only if it had a male voice like HAL.) Many people think themselves as their gender first, and human second. This touches a deep nerve in many when someone suggests that some of this is learned behavior and not wholly innate.
I identify as male, but it’s complicated. (You can read my essay from Better Than IRL, “The Beast In Me,” in the archives for more details.) My response to gender and sexual fluidity has always been “what’s the big deal?” To contain multitudes, as Whitman said, means you do not have to be one thing. I mean really, Baskin Robbins with the 31 flavors was my kind of place. The day I get one flavor of soft serve instead of two kinds in a twist, with extra jimmies, ask what’s wrong with me. One day I’m full-contact kickboxing, the next I’m singing the Go-Gos in karaoke. And in my mind, there’s no cognitive dissonance in that. I know I’m an outlier, but I sure as hell won’t let anyone tell me that I’m not “normal,” whatever that means, when there’s currently over 8 billion living examples of ways to be human, and even the identical twins among us are unique.
Americans have worried about the state of “manhood” for well over a century, but lately, young men have been falling behind in school and the workforce, some people are very concerned. Christine Emba wrote an excellent and earnest article on men and boys who are having difficulty navigating the traditional roadmap to manhood. It’s a touchy subject, and one that right-wingers take great advantage of to recruit young men. Many people are ambivalent, almost afraid to talk about the subject. I found the article through
where Roxane Gay dismissed it as “more handwringing about men,” but she also gifted the paywalled article to her subscribers—for which I am grateful—which tells me that she wanted people to read it. You can read “Men are Lost. Here’s a roadmap out of the wilderness” before you go on, if you’d like. (Ignore the clickbaity headline.)The article acknowledges male privilege, and that some of the rudderlessness of young men of late is a reaction to the gains of the women’s rights movement. The difficulty in talking about men’s problems is that no one likes to hear someone complain when they’re on the gravy train with biscuit wheels. It can be tough to be a man, but it’s “the lowest difficulty setting there is,” to use the words of John Scalzi. That being said, men die sooner, have fewer friends, and while we are better paid on average, we usually do most of the dangerous and unpleasant jobs, and if we don’t work, we are considered entirely useless. Rigid gender roles suck for everybody, including many men. Men certainly take out that pain on everybody else. (If you’re going to get your jock in a snit, pretend every sentence like that begins with “some men.”)
As someone who’s trained in mixed martial arts for twenty years and was an amateur-class powerlifter for half that, and who just came home from a tactical handgun class—let me tell you that traditionally male activities have more accessories and fashion trends than you’ll find in the Barbie movie.
The right thinks modern men are too weak, the left thinks men should be more like the traditional women, as if one gender role is the “human default” and the other is unnatural. There’s still a binary in their minds, when even dodecahedron may not have sides enough to describe the variations people express even in a society with rigid gender roles. Even in Emba’s article, everyone still thinks there are “real men.” Which means they want men to be a certain way, no matter their political bent. They want men to be protectors, which assumes men are physically strong and adept at birth.
Mothers aren’t protective? Mine sure was, and carried me for half a mile when I broke my leg. And what are ectomorphic men to do, send away for a Charles Atlas pamphlet? Peacemakers are protective as well, and thinking of them as “unmanly”—whatever the hell that means—is rather reductive. Always the Gemini, I’ve been both. I like people to get along. (Child of divorce). But I have also trained in fighting sports and taught self defense for many years. Men can be both nurturing and protective, because like women, we are humans, if we are allowed to be. If we are raised to be.
Men are supposed to embrace their emotions, and be more open with them; when they do so publicly, it’s mocked as “masculinity so fragile” and they should man up or be a man. Only some emotions are permitted to men; anger, a certain kind of enthusiasm; sadness, crying, confusion, tenderness, loss, sorrow… you’d better do that shit in private. The solution to problematic manhood is always for men to figure it out on their own, as if boys raise themselves. I see a lot of boys pampered by moms who cater to their every whim, and dads who do their best to shield them from accountability, so why act surprised when they grow up into men who want servant-women as partners, and are oblivious to the consequences of their behavior? They were never raised to act like adults. (Not that I want to blame everything on parents. Once you’re an adult, some responsibility is on you.)
Emba’s article focuses on how boys aren’t allowed to pursue “what boys are good at,” which is always sports. The American school day, meant to hammer children into office drones, is unpleasant for everybody; but especially boys, who want to go play soccer or something. Maybe we’re raising girls to tolerate the shitty school day and raise boys to act out more? I sucked at sports. I liked school! I wanted to learn. I guess that experience doesn’t count. If only boys raised to define themselves by their physical prowess and success are having trouble, it’s not “boys” that are in trouble, it’s how we’re giving them rigid rules of how to be. I’m pretty successful at what I do, in the traditional definition. My adaptability is why.
Where did I learn adaptability? My parents divorced when I was seven, and my hypermasculine father, who had been raised by a very demanding perfectionist mother, shared Male Role Model time with my Uncle Paul. Unc was the most successful close family member on my mother’s side, and he managed gay bars in New York City, where he told us of his trans barkeeps, hosting illegal lesbian weddings, and equally illegal screenings of Midnight Cowboy.
Uncle Paul was close-lipped about his own identity until his late seventies, but he was not a fighter like my dad.1 He was soft and friendly and drew silly pictures with us, and made very clear, when watching monster movies with us on Sundays, that would “run away pissing and farting” if Godzilla were to visit our block. When he rented a summer house for the family, at least one evening, he’d don a bedsheet and a feathered, bejeweled women’s hat from the ‘40s, and assume the title of The Grand Wazoo. So, early on I learned that there was more than one way to be a man. It wasn’t drag per se, but…
Let me tell you a secret. The crowd beholden to traditional masculinity hate drag queens because…traditional masculinity is a form of drag.
As someone who’s trained in mixed martial arts for twenty years and was an amateur-class powerlifter for half that, and who just came home from a tactical handgun class, I’ll let you in on it: traditionally male activities have more accessories and fashion trends than you’ll find in the Barbie movie. Let me give you an example of seeing a man’s mask slip recently, as I was being inducted into a gun club:
The orientation leader spoke very proudly of their gun club’s lead abatement process, which keeps the lead bullets from leaching into the soil of the Pine Barrens, which serves as trillion-gallon aquifer for the region. It made me feel good about being a member! But he caught himself after that. Maybe someone in class sneered, because every time he mentioned lead after that, he added, “or the treehuggers will cry.” I rolled my eyes. Gun range employees were suffering from lead poisoning until ranges began installing proper ventilation systems; it’s the reason I joined an outdoor shooting range! But if you’re one of them “treehuggers” you’re not a rootin’ tootin’ shootin’ man-man, apparently. I found it interesting that he let his mask slip, and behaved like an adult, until he decided to mask up and play Yosemite Sam of the Gun Range, who shoots them sissy Tree Huggers on sight.
Another example of masculine drag that I witnessed recently was at the dog park, when a dude rolled up in lifted truck that had never seen dirt, and got out with his Rottweiler on a chain. Not a dog leash chain, but a literal 3/8” thick security chain affixed to the dog’s neck with a padlock. His son followed on a little battery-powered version of daddy’s Tonka truck, learning that there was only one way to be a man: to become a living cartoon.
Not that there’s anything wrong with being a living cartoon. If you want to dress like Bugs Bunny in Carmen Miranda drag and lay a smackeroo on Yosemite Sam, go right ahead. I mean, someone like me who parades around in REI shorts and a Hawaiian shirt can’t exactly criticize the guys who want to be GI Joe without the fetters of military service.
Some other things that are drag that aren’t called drag:
Wearing a cowboy hat and boots when you’re not working a ranch. Like the Texas Agriculture Commissioner, who set a dress code for his state office that requires you “dress like your gender.” His gender is Woody from Toy Story.
Wearing tactical vests and camouflage when you are not in active military service or engaged in hunting.
Wearing American flags as clothing when you are not Uncle Sam and it’s not July 4th.
Driving a pickup truck when you live in the suburbs and are not in the construction industry or need it for work.
Uncle Sam.
Hey, if you wanna dress in that kind of drag, you be you! Just admit that it’s drag. You are not gonna pull a tree stump out of the yard with your mall crawler truck and its two grand a tire wheels. It’s okay that you always wanted to drive a monster truck! I mean, it’s cooler if you’re a woman, because they’re supposed to want a pink Miata. And this isn’t meant to erase all you drag kings out there. We love ya.
To dial back to the “boys are in trouble” message… I think boys are fine, if we let them be. If we stop telling men to define themselves by their ability to provide, that they need to be the protector and can’t be a nurturer, peacemaker, or anything else but what we want them to be, I believe they will be okay. We also need to let the boys (and girls) who embrace physical prowess be themselves, too. Wind turbine mechanics are not going to be replaced by AI anytime soon, unlike the rest of us. And we’re gonna need a lot of them.
If you choose to wear a mask, do so in a psychologically healthy manner. It takes courage to be yourself, but it’s the freest you’ll ever be.
One more thing to read: this profile of Little Richard, on the occasion of a new documentary of his life, written by Hanif Abdurraqib. A great read about the gender bender who practically invented modern rock ‘n roll, with a little help from his friends…
I’ll let Jello Biafra of Dead Kennedys sing me out:
You're dressed up like a clown
Putting on your act
It's the only time all year you'll ever admit thatBecause you're still hiding in a mask
Take your fun seriously
No, don't blow this year's chance
Tomorrow your mold goes back onBecause your role is planned for you
There's nothing you can doWhy don't you take your social regulations, and shove 'em up your ass?
I later learned that he survived an armed robbery, held at shotgun-point; and broke the arm of another thief with a billy club. So he also contained multitudes. My Dad could, too. Sometimes his mask slipped and he’d be silly with me and my sister. When he wasn’t in Village People Construction Worker drag.
There are so many kinds of drag!
Go to the Murray Bar here in Montana where every afternoon it's full of rich-guy-fishing-dudes who are literally dressed in the exact same shirts.
Or when I'd go home to my preppy suburb, where my mother always hated my clothes, and would pack what I called "republican drag".
Like you, I was lucky to have a bunch of gay and lesbian adults around, a lot of them weren't really out, but who was in those days? Did mean that we could see there were other ways of being, and as a kid, that can mean everything.
This was fun to read right on the heels of finishing listening to an often-too-serious 2018 podcast series on patriarchy and men. And as someone living in a place where waaaay too many white men who want to cosplay cowboy have moved in the past few years. Love these photos!