REAL MANHOOD
"Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them." ~Henry David Thoreau
“Man is born broken. He lives by mending. The grace of God is glue.”
~Eugene O’Neill
What makes a real man a “real man”? As men, where do we get our definitions of manhood from? Whether it be the invincible super heroes from our favorite DC comics, or pop culture icons from movies and TV (Jason Bourne, Jack Bauer of ‘24”, Terminator, Maximus, James Bond, Scarface, the Godfather, Rambo, Rocky, Shaft etc) the definition of manhood generally has to do with resilience, being impervious to pain, being able to conquer at all costs, being victorious, and not being emotionally vulnerable. The myths of real manhood also state that “a real man” is not only an excellent financial provider but one who is able to conquer any storm at the drop of a dime; even in the worst of economic times, like the times we are in now, a real man finds a way to “make it” even if the rules are not clear. The problem with these definitions, however, is that you would rarely ever find a man who has all these qualities who has not also found a way to a stifle his own emotional well being.
The commonly held perceptions about manhood are not only misleading, but don’t take into account the realities that men face and the masks that we often wear to hide our pain. More significantly, because "real men" - as presented by these skewed definitions - inherently “have it altogether”, we men are not only discouraged from dealing with our own emotional and mental health issues, but we are perceived as weak (especially by other men) if we show any sign of emotional vulnerability. So where exactly are we supposed to go with that pain that goes unaddressed because it has been covertly lingering beneath the surface? I’ll tell you where we go with it: we become sexually promiscuous, we become insensitive workaholics, we drink, we have affairs, we watch porn, we engage in the drug culture, we get involved in fist fights or other over manifestations of rage, or we may even become passive aggressive. Some of us simply throw in the towel altogether and give in to covert hopelessness.
When R & B star Chris Brown said in past interviews that as a child he witnessed his step dad beat his mother, little did we know that one day he would be in the news for allegedly doing the same thing to his own girlfriend, pop star Rihanna. But such violence does not come from a vacuum. Such expressions are often reactions to unresolved trauma. I listened attentively to rapper T.I. as he gave his testimony in his new reality show on MTV where he counsels other troubled youth, a show that stemmed from his court-mandated community service for the gun charges brought against him. T.I. talked about how he witnessed so much violence growing up that he considered it normal to join the gang & violence culture. He knew of no other way to deal with his pain than to perpetuate the same thing he was trying to avoid.
The point that I am getting at with all of this is that as men, we rarely have anywhere to go to vent and get healing for our emotional wounds. If a man is too emotional, he is considered “weak”, a “sissy”, “a punk” or “a faggot”. And yet, in many relationships, women will often tell you that no matter how great of a provider he is, something is lacking if a man is not emotionally present. But we are not trained as men to be these kinds of beings. We are trained to be top-performers, no matter the cost, but what happens when our emotional pain hinders our ability to perform? Does that mean that we cease being men, especially if extenuating circumstances prevent us from making the kind of money that we are supposed to be making? Or what happens when we have become so crippled by our internal pain that we head down a path of self-destruction?
It is often said that our prisons have become the new mental health hospitals, with all the downsizing in public mental health care funds over the years. There is some truth to this. Go into any prison in America, and you will find many men who did not find healthy ways to express their internal pain. Men who just could not “talk about” what was going on in their lives that led them down a path of violence or other crime.
I am currently reading a powerful book, “I don’t want to talk about it” by Terrence Real, a licensed psychotherapist. In the book, Mr. Real compassionately chronicles the tales of many men who are suffering; men whom he has helped treat over the years. Many of these men, the author recalls, are societal models of success on the outside, but the reality of their everyday family lives betrays the image that they have created. What has struck me most as I've been reading the book is how we men are programmed from such a young age to be this impervious-entity that simply does not know how to express ones inner trauma to get the healing needed. If we are to fully experience the grace of God that we all need in order to heal, we must have safe places where that is possible. If a lady calls up a girlfriend of hers to say something like, “girl, I need to talk, I am hurting right now!” It is considered socially acceptable, but how many of us men have such a safe haven to go to amongst ourselves?
For me, at this point in my life, I realize that real manhood is not necessarily a function of your bank account, as important as money is to our survival. Real manhood must incorporate one’s ability to be a conduit of love (Agape love), that kind of unconditional love that produces servant leaders who are not afraid to not only be authentic and vulnerable, but honest about the struggles that they have been through and sometimes are still going through.
Stephen Oladotun Akinduro
"Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them." ~Henry David Thoreau
“Man is born broken. He lives by mending. The grace of God is glue.”
~Eugene O’Neill
What makes a real man a “real man”? As men, where do we get our definitions of manhood from? Whether it be the invincible super heroes from our favorite DC comics, or pop culture icons from movies and TV (Jason Bourne, Jack Bauer of ‘24”, Terminator, Maximus, James Bond, Scarface, the Godfather, Rambo, Rocky, Shaft etc) the definition of manhood generally has to do with resilience, being impervious to pain, being able to conquer at all costs, being victorious, and not being emotionally vulnerable. The myths of real manhood also state that “a real man” is not only an excellent financial provider but one who is able to conquer any storm at the drop of a dime; even in the worst of economic times, like the times we are in now, a real man finds a way to “make it” even if the rules are not clear. The problem with these definitions, however, is that you would rarely ever find a man who has all these qualities who has not also found a way to a stifle his own emotional well being.
The commonly held perceptions about manhood are not only misleading, but don’t take into account the realities that men face and the masks that we often wear to hide our pain. More significantly, because "real men" - as presented by these skewed definitions - inherently “have it altogether”, we men are not only discouraged from dealing with our own emotional and mental health issues, but we are perceived as weak (especially by other men) if we show any sign of emotional vulnerability. So where exactly are we supposed to go with that pain that goes unaddressed because it has been covertly lingering beneath the surface? I’ll tell you where we go with it: we become sexually promiscuous, we become insensitive workaholics, we drink, we have affairs, we watch porn, we engage in the drug culture, we get involved in fist fights or other over manifestations of rage, or we may even become passive aggressive. Some of us simply throw in the towel altogether and give in to covert hopelessness.
When R & B star Chris Brown said in past interviews that as a child he witnessed his step dad beat his mother, little did we know that one day he would be in the news for allegedly doing the same thing to his own girlfriend, pop star Rihanna. But such violence does not come from a vacuum. Such expressions are often reactions to unresolved trauma. I listened attentively to rapper T.I. as he gave his testimony in his new reality show on MTV where he counsels other troubled youth, a show that stemmed from his court-mandated community service for the gun charges brought against him. T.I. talked about how he witnessed so much violence growing up that he considered it normal to join the gang & violence culture. He knew of no other way to deal with his pain than to perpetuate the same thing he was trying to avoid.
The point that I am getting at with all of this is that as men, we rarely have anywhere to go to vent and get healing for our emotional wounds. If a man is too emotional, he is considered “weak”, a “sissy”, “a punk” or “a faggot”. And yet, in many relationships, women will often tell you that no matter how great of a provider he is, something is lacking if a man is not emotionally present. But we are not trained as men to be these kinds of beings. We are trained to be top-performers, no matter the cost, but what happens when our emotional pain hinders our ability to perform? Does that mean that we cease being men, especially if extenuating circumstances prevent us from making the kind of money that we are supposed to be making? Or what happens when we have become so crippled by our internal pain that we head down a path of self-destruction?
It is often said that our prisons have become the new mental health hospitals, with all the downsizing in public mental health care funds over the years. There is some truth to this. Go into any prison in America, and you will find many men who did not find healthy ways to express their internal pain. Men who just could not “talk about” what was going on in their lives that led them down a path of violence or other crime.
I am currently reading a powerful book, “I don’t want to talk about it” by Terrence Real, a licensed psychotherapist. In the book, Mr. Real compassionately chronicles the tales of many men who are suffering; men whom he has helped treat over the years. Many of these men, the author recalls, are societal models of success on the outside, but the reality of their everyday family lives betrays the image that they have created. What has struck me most as I've been reading the book is how we men are programmed from such a young age to be this impervious-entity that simply does not know how to express ones inner trauma to get the healing needed. If we are to fully experience the grace of God that we all need in order to heal, we must have safe places where that is possible. If a lady calls up a girlfriend of hers to say something like, “girl, I need to talk, I am hurting right now!” It is considered socially acceptable, but how many of us men have such a safe haven to go to amongst ourselves?
For me, at this point in my life, I realize that real manhood is not necessarily a function of your bank account, as important as money is to our survival. Real manhood must incorporate one’s ability to be a conduit of love (Agape love), that kind of unconditional love that produces servant leaders who are not afraid to not only be authentic and vulnerable, but honest about the struggles that they have been through and sometimes are still going through.
Stephen Oladotun Akinduro
posted by Stephen O. | 10:30 AM
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