Showing posts with label men. Show all posts
Showing posts with label men. Show all posts

Friday, June 26, 2015

"Real Men"



bbIt has been suggested that I shouldn’t use the term “real men” because it is shaming to men. After giving the matter some thought and considering it from several different perspectives, I have decided to rather defiantly double down on the term. Apologies in advance if it makes anyone uncomfortable, but tough luck.

 First of all, in theory if one is truly in Christ, I should not have the power to shame anyone. Anyone who has laid their pride down at the foot of the cross and received the Blood of the Lamb should know who and what they are, which is not a wounded bird full of pride and shame just waiting for someone to cause them offense. That particular ideology is to be found more within feminism, social justice warriors, and internet culture at large, and it is a complete deception. It is an ideology of chronic victimhood where one competes for offense points. Blech.

If you do not feel like a “real man,” figure out what that means and become one. Harsh words of tough love perhaps, but being a “real man” is your rightful inheritance, walk in it for goodness sakes.

beautySecond of all, I am surrounded by “real men,” as in they are the majority. It does not matter if they are standing in line at the food bank, living in their cars, or off the grid, or hitch hiking across America or disabled or raising families or becoming fathers to children that aren’t even theirs, the point is, they are all good and honorable men, “real men,” if you will. What marks them? I don’t know, kindness perhaps, authenticity, an awareness of their humanity and the humanity of others? There are many flawed and imperfect men but they are “real,” as in their hearts are in the right place.

What is not a “real man?” Throwing over a liquor store, abandoning children, abusing wives, promoting hatred, preying on the weak and vulnerable, or attacking random strangers on the internet with words that would peel paint off the walls. Those things are “unreal” as in, they fall way short of what it means to be a “real man.” And yet even in the midst of those human foibles and failures, there can be forgiveness, redemption, and healing. At any given moment one can turn things around and walk in one’s rightful path. Yes, your rightful path, your inheritance, pull it towards yourself and embrace it. It belongs to you.

beastIf it comforts anyone, there are plenty of women who have failed at the “real woman” thing, too. This is not a gender competition here or if it is to be so, we should be competing to see who can best represent all that is good and golden about the nature of ourselves, not engaging in a race to the bottom.

There’s a little secret to shame that perhaps some people don’t know, but when particular words or ideas make one uncomfortable, there is often something going on within ourselves, something unresolved, that has made those words sting. It’s happened to me many, many times. Ouch, over and over and over again. It doesn’t necessarily make those words wrong or shaming however, they are keys to what areas and issues we need healing and strengthening in.

To run around trying to ban words and ideas that make one uncomfortable is as silly as feminists trying to ban the word “bossy” because it makes some women feel uncomfortable. Puh-lease. If we try to rid the world of all offense and conviction, we will still not be perfect, we will still be uncomfortable, and we will still fall short.
teacups 
Using the term “real men” is not about shaming men at all, it is about calling them to their higher selves. It is about truly knowing and seeing your real potential with great love, even when some themselves cannot see it at all. It would be dishonoring to men as a whole if we were to all deny the fact that there really is a standard there, an expectation for them. To whom much is given, much is expected.

So, be real.

Sunday, January 18, 2015

Take a Walk on the Wild Side

Having now read a dozen blogs about the horrors of being a woman walking in the rape culture, (hashtag#YESALLMENBAD) and watching the most pathetic celebration of oppression Olympics ever, I’m compelled to respond. One flat out got my goat, leaving me partially furious because of the deception she presents and partially empathetic because of the self-delusion she now seems trapped in.

“Blogging Girl”, who is precisely the same height and weight as I am, goes walking everywhere in a noble attempt to fight off poundage and encounters no less than 50 men (#YESALLMENBAD) who call her fat and declare her sea-worthy, (or c-worthy, if you get my drift.) Poor girl walks a gauntlet of horrific verbal abuse every day, just trying to exercise. Except she doesn’t, not really. I have watched a
naked man with a machete manage to attract a crowd of nearly 20, half of whom were law enforcement officers. Stark naked as a jay bird! See, most of us don’t care. We flat out don’t care. We have things to do, places to go, and if you’re passed out drunk on the sidewalk, we’ll simply step over you. It’s called the fallen log in the forest phenomenon, not one of our better qualities, but humans can only take in so much information before our brains render people invisible.

There is no way in hades you managed to attract the attention of 50 men who dropped everything they were doing to stop and inform you were fat, stupid, ugly, and shouldn’t be out walking.(#YESALLMENBAD) I ain’t buying it. I don’t mean to sound cruel, but you just are not the center of that many people’s universe. Well over two hundred people have now validated your victimhood, affirmed your feelings of persecution, confirmed your perception of a cold and sexist world. Now that is kind of cruel.

Come on girl, take a walk on the wild side with me and embrace the misogyny.

I walk through the world like Snow White trilling to the forest creatures, seriously. Schizophrenic guy stops talking to himself for a moment and tips his hat  when I pass. There’s a veteran on the corner with no legs who always looks up, smiles at me, and says thank you, and I’ve never put a dime in his hat. There’s a group of young black guys that hang out in front of a coffee shop, but they’re so busy trying to keep their pants up and walk with their shoes untied, they pay no attention to me. 

I haven’t opened a door for myself in decades, except when I’m out with hubby. It’s a bit amusing, but that man loves to drop a door on me now and than. I roll my eyes, but in truth it always makes me smile. I know exactly what he’s doing. Men have been opening doors for me for so long if one wasn’t around I’d probably stand there and look stupid trying to figure out why the door won’t open.

A few weeks ago I had a brake light out. No less than six men stopped to make sure I knew about it. Two more left a note on my car. Perfect strangers, trying to protect me from a ticket. It actually started to get embarrassing, so I fixed the light.

Retired Navy guy likes to jog in traffic. He’s always in formation, chin up, face frozen, but his eyes always dart my way. He’s alert, well aware of my presence. The other day I raised an eyebrow in response to his darting eyes and he lost it and nearly smirked.

Last week this old guy sat down on a bench next to me and started showing me pictures of a girl from 60 years ago, long gone now. He had a yellowed love letter he had written her half a century ago, that he wanted to read to me. It was so poignant, so heart breaking, I had to go cry when he left. Lost loves from another century, remembered in every precious detail.

There’s a young guy who patrols the parking lot, a bit autistic. He introduced himself and informed me that he likes girls, he really likes girls, so he spends his days looking out for them. He fancies himself as a white knight with an important job to do. I’ve never seen him do anything inappropriate, except smile and wink at girls from 30 ft away. Sometimes they sit down on the sidewalk with him and tell him their troubles. “Her husband is a jerk,” he tells me. “That one drinks too much,” he says. “She doesn’t know how pretty she is,” he says sadly, and I nearly choke because she isn’t at all, but when I look in his eyes, I see the innocence there. He really sees her as beautiful. Dang.

Men cannot truly be misogynists. It’s impossible. They are biologically bound to women in a kind of symbiosis. Men can be jerks, be insensitive, be downright dangerous, but they cannot truly be misogynists. Misogyny is the fear and hatred of women. Men do not fear women. And they cannot hate us for very long, either. What people perceive as misogyny in men is actually a fascinating projection, like a reflection in a funhouse mirror. “Misogyny” in men is an illusion, because it’s not fear and hatred of women, it’s actually self loathing. Men who appear to hate women, really hate themselves, not us.
There is an inequality there, an unfairness, but it’s not women who get the short end of the stick this time.

Come on girl, walk on the wild side with me and embrace the misogyny, because it surely can’t be any worse than the world you’re already walking in.