When I was ten years old, I got bucked off of a horse and broke my arm. We were in rural South Dakota, where distances to hospitals are measured in hours — not miles — and the first thing that my mom said to me was: “You’re tough. Be a man and walk it off.” As we raced to the hospital, that phrase lived inside me, branding their letters on my soul with the iron that is a mother’s words. Despite the fact that I was ten, and virtually no culture would say that I was man, those words echo sometimes. I wanted to cry, but knew that would ruin any manly cowboy persona that I so longed to have. Last week, a good friend of mine published a viewpoint in the Carletonian about masculinity and it reminded me of this experience as a child. I think he was spot on, but in the spirit of Carleton culture, I want to “piggy back off of that a little bit.” I think that last week’s viewpoint was so right in so many ways, but I think that it begs a bigger question: what is masculinity?  

If we choose to look at the way we choose to view masculinity through the eyes of how we treat young boys, the answer is clear: masculinity is utility. As young boys, you’re taught to play with guns to emulate the day when you may go to war. You’re praised if you’re athletic, tall and strong so that you can benefit the rest of society one day. When you realize this, you’re left with a question. Are men really just the ones that kill the spiders, change the oil and act as cannon fodder when war breaks out?

I think it’s easy to laugh at this and disregard these concerns because phrased like that, it’s kind of funny. But when you remember that masculinity is an identity, this characterization of men becomes a little unsavory. In a world where masculinity is defined by the ability to provide for a family, do basic tasks or exist as the utility for others, what is your identity when that goal post moves? Are you still a man if you can’t provide for your family because the economy has gone down the toilet? Are you still a man if you’re not strong enough to open a jar? Are you still a man if you’re afraid of spiders? 

If the identity of men is defined by their utility, and that utility seems to become more and more obsolete, it’s no wonder that men are enduring an identity crisis. What else would you call being denied the ability to be what you identify as? Most men, though definitely not all, spend their entire lives being told that they are a man. That identity, that you’ve had your entire life, is defined by these characteristics that are harder and harder to attain. If you are not a man, I invite you to imagine spending your life being told that what defines you is being able to support a family and then realizing that the wage rate makes it impossible for you to do so. 

I think that it’s a rational reaction among women and gender non-confirming folks to be skeptical of a claim about men in this light. Afterall, our society has been oppressing women for thousands of years. Why should we care about men after they’ve had an identity crisis for less than a fraction of that time? I think that’s a completely reasonable question on this topic, but I don’t think that’s a good reason to simply ignore men. I think that students at Carleton can accept that these two things can be true simultaneously. I’m not meaning to diminish or reject the advances that women and non-binary folks have made over the years, nor am I suggesting that we don’t have a long way to go before there can truly be equality. I firmly believe that toxic masculinity has and continues to ruin the lives of countless women, gay and gender queer people around the world. All I’m suggesting here is that men are also a victim of toxic masculinity. The toxic masculinity that perpetuates rape culture, homophobia, transphobia and misogyny is the same toxic structure that tells boys that they can’t cry, that they’re only as manly as they are useful and that their identity is collapsing. 

So what do we do? I’m not sure. There are aspects of masculinity that I was raised with that I think are good for society and I have no problem participating in. I was taught to hold doors open for people (especially women), give jackets to people that are cold, wait to eat until everyone has food on their plate, walk on the roadside of the sidewalk and other things that many people would describe as manners, but I can’t disentangle from what it means to be a man. I certainly don’t want to get rid of those aspects, mostly because I think that they’re polite. But I think that there’s one rational solution: stop defining people in a reactionary sense. We can all probably agree that defining what it means to be a woman through the lens of having a family and being able to care for people is problematic, so why not just apply the same standard to men? Teach young boys to be themselves, because that should be enough. 

The man who wrote last week’s viewpoint and I have a tradition. Let me rephrase. I have a tradition and he watches with embarrassment. While we say goodbye after long Carletonian meetings or strange late night Sayles meetups, I start flexing and grunting in what must be a spectacle to all those graced with my presence. That’s what I think it means to be a man. Being a man to me means being silly, drinking fruity drinks, liking clothes, liking to cook meat, being obsessed with coffee, loving to drive and so many other things. These things are manly because I am a man, and these things are attributes in my life that bring me meaning. Is this logic a little circular? Sure! But guess what, I don’t care. We don’t need to have a rigid definition of what it means to be a man, because if I am a man, what I am is enough.