Growing up in a Hispanic family, there was a ton of focus on shaping me into a “man’s man”. Men in the Hispanic community are seen as providers, an unshakable force that demands respect. They are the type of guys who work on cars just to work on them. Never once have I looked at a car and been like, “You know what, I can improve on its current design!” In fact, for years I thought oil and gas were one and the same.
Both my father and grandfather fit the ideal mold of a “man’s man”. When I was younger, my dad would always bring me along with him whenever someone needed something fixed. A leaky pipe, a busted alternator, whatever the job my dad was your man. Armed only with his toolbox and wit, we would venture from house to house knocking out complex projects in just a few short hours. It seemed like every weekend he received a phone call for a favor. After 26 years on earth, I can confirm that I have received 0 calls. Not even a lousy text! Instead, I am getting calls so people can vent. That is the vibe I am giving off. People will spend over an hour on the phone with me. My dad built fences in under an hour and here I am, in the middle of a three-hour call, saying shit like, “Well I can’t believe he is not acknowledging your point of view!”
My grandfather built every house his family ever lived in. To this day, he still has the Big Chief Tablets where he recorded every detail of his building plans. From tools and materials to schematics and floor layouts — every aspect of the home was acknowledged and executed to perfection. I have several notebooks. They are filled with diary entries and dick jokes.
Throughout my life, I have lived in the shadow of the men in my life. A lot of us have. At first glance, our generation of men seams entirely helpless. Some of us still play video games, others still call our mom to ask how to cook an oven pizza — hey, just throw it in the oven, it will be fine. Our media has played a major role in our generation’s lack of identity. It depicts a clear cut standard of what our society deems as a “real man”.
“Real men” are portrayed as tough, burly chaps who do not take shit from anyone. Men who can walk away from an explosion and not even bat an eye. I flinch when my nephews throw snap fireworks at me. “Real men” go to strip clubs with their boys and have no regard for the amount of money they are spending. The last time I had fun at a strip club was in GTA 5 and before you laugh, it is worth mentioning that I had a 5 star bounty on my head so… In real life, I have only been to a strip club once and somehow I saved money.
Even Google has a preconceived notion around the definition of manliness. Synonyms include; macho, heroic, self-reliant, beefcake. That’s right, beefcake. Our interpretation of what is manly worries me greatly. It establishes a dangerous perspective so deep in our psyche that we fail to even realize it. It is the reason so many men like myself feel inferior — even if we fail to admit it. Our cultural definition of manliness leads to feelings of degradation, isolation, and resentment which can lead to lashing out against others or ourselves.
Our distorted view on the male complex is a major contributor to the pervasive, misogynistic world we live in today. How could a man respect others, especially women, when they struggle to respect themselves? It is one of the main reasons why male suicide rates are 4x higher than females. Last year, there were roughly 45,000 suicides here in the US — 79% of them were male (CDC). To make that statistic more manly, that is roughly the capacity of Busch Stadium.
What I am getting at is this; being a man is more than calloused hands and an appetite for the activities society deems manly. Although no one ever asks for my help with a home improvement project, they rely on me for my support and thoughtfulness. When I look back on my experiences with my father and grandfather, I now see those qualities were at the center of everything they did. I will admit, if the Rock and I are walking away from an explosion, I am running to the nearest spot that can protect me from the flames and shrapnel. That does not make me less of a man. Rather, having a humble attitude, knowing that I am not indestructible and that I am riddled with faults, allows me to foster a sense of openness and compassion towards others. It’s true, I’ll never be the Rock, but good luck with treating your burns and wounds from that explosion you slow-walked from, Dwayne!
