Trying to write about masculinity the way I want to is like trying to paint a self portrait with shaking hands. It’s simply what I find attractive and off-putting about a boy, why I am proud and excited to consider myself a man, what being a man means to me, fond memories of my youth, my opinion on society and culture, and why I’m terrified of making other men angry in any way. It’s impossible to capture completely, and I don’t think many people would understand the deep complexity I’m trying to put into mere words. But today’s a special day, let me give it a try.

Masculinity to me is the set of physical traits and behavioral expectations placed on men and boys by biology and culture. It’s how men look (biology), but also how they want to look (culture). It’s how they act, and why they act that way. It’s what I’m “supposed” to aspire to, and what I’m supposed to admire and expect in other men.

It’s the way muscles and fat gets distributed within the body. It’s how I cut my hair. It’s exercising and rough-housing and camping. It’s holding the door open for people and letting girls eat first. It’s being dirty and loud. It’s being kind and smelling nice.

It’s belonging to a group. Or not. It’s controlling my anger. Or letting it out. It’s protecting someone. Or hurting them.

We’re taught all these things, either explicitly or through osmosis, all our lives. We grow up with family, friends, and everyone else expecting us to look a certain way, act a certain way, want certain things. And whether we realize it or not, we associate the love and acceptance of others with fitting in to these expectations. We know somehow that if we’re not manly enough we’ll be ostracized or hated. We’ll lose the approval of our parents. No one will be attracted to us. We’ll be alone forever.

And we absolutely can’t act like girls. That gets us mocked, beaten, or killed. So we stand with our hands just so. We sit with our legs in a strict set of approved positions. We avoid makeup and lace, high heels and dolls.

Or we go to the other extreme. We spit and curse. We yell. We get drunk and fight. We make the Incredible Hulk our ultimate aspiration in appearance, intellect, and temperament. The slightest variation in routine or respect is an insult to our honor and that of our ancestors. I label this extreme masculinity “macho.”

But let’s think happy thoughts. What do I like about being a man, and what is it I find attractive in other men?

The Good Stuff

I remember playing one of the brothers in “Seven Brides for Seven Brothers” during my senior year of high school. At this point in my existence, I absolutely knew boys were cute but I hadn’t put the right label on it. I didn’t do sports (probably out of fear – too macho, or maybe my attractions would get noticed) – I did choir. So when the choir director wanted to put on a musical, I jumped. While blocking a scene where Milly makes her first dinner for the boys, we had to all rush on stage and to the table with the appropriate level of uncivilized brotherhood. The director told us something like “Just go crazy. Fight for your food.” And it worked wonders. We were rough and loud and she loved it. And so did I. It gave me permission to unlock a door I usually kept closed. I could let off a little steam and literally be “one of the guys.”

I remember my sister teaching me about how guys should stand on the side closest to the street when walking with a girl. Or my dad always opening the car door for my mom (and telling me to do it for him if he was too far away). All this chivalry sunk in to a point that I’m illogically proud and excited at the idea that such things are my responsibility and prerogative.

At my first North Star conference I found myself in a group of ten or so guys. We made plans to do things like go out for food or watch Maleficent at the movie theater. And in only two days of being with these guys I felt so incredibly comfortable around them it surprised me. While we were waiting for the movie (our planned showing didn’t have enough seats left for the whole group) I talked to some people. At one point we noticed some guys had found these little rideable animals you can rent and drive around the mall. In my comfortable excitement I whooped with a very high pitched laugh that I don’t remember ever making before.

A few days ago I was invited and went to a Korean sauna in the area with a group of friends-of-a-friend. The friend that invited me couldn’t actually go after the date was changed, so I had to decide if I would get naked with a bunch of guys I had never met, or if I would stay home in typical fashion. There was the mixed bag of excitement at meeting new people, the new experience of a nude sauna, and the fear of embarrassment or loneliness. I eventually decided to face the fear and go. Once I was undressed and in the water I had to approach some of the guys and ask if they were part of the group I was looking for. It was awkward, we were all naked, but once the connection was established everyone was immensely friendly and the whole experience was very relaxing. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt that, and I’m so glad that now I’m finding it again.

When I try to describe my “type” I enjoy the challenge. Much like how I can’t grasp what it is about breasts that get straight guys’ excited, I can’t properly explain what it is about the shape of a guy’s body, face, or hair that attracts me. There’s a strength that can support or protect me. There’s a youthful energy that can go on adventures. But there must also be a softness that shows the ability for compassion and caring. If he’s too buff it reminds me of machismo and the fear of abuse or anger kicks in. If he’s not buff enough it’s less exciting, but easily preferred over the alternative. I’ve taken to saying “as manly as possible without being too macho.” Feel free to present me with pictures for my yay or nay if you want more specific judgments.

Culture, and Toxic Masculinity

If it wasn’t clear before, there’s a level of masculinity that terrifies me, and it’s the tipping point between protector and aggressor. It’s this level, this machismo, that people have started referring to as “toxic masculinity.” It’s when a man beats his spouse or children because they aren’t respectful enough. It’s when a boy rapes someone because he doesn’t treat them as an equal. It’s when men are taught (and we are taught this) that strength is the measure of a man, that weakness and vulnerability are your enemies and they make you worth less.

It’s a paradox, because it simultaneously tells you that you don’t need anyone else and that this is the only way you’ll ever have anyone. It tells you that love is weakness, but that strength is the only way to find love. No wonder we go so crazy.

Getting over this is something that will take generations, and I think it’s starting now. I’m starting to see role models for children: boys and men that understand the importance of vulnerability, and make it explicit. I’m seeing people fight back against the eons of cultural inertia.

So there’s the rub. You grow up in a world that sends you conflicting messages of how to behave, what to value, and how you will be judged. You are taught what to want, and the consequences for going against it. And you find yourself outside of the norm – unable to fit in because of some twist of fate, biology, or god – and what you love is also what you fear. It’s impossible to relinquish, because it’s a part of you. All you can do is take a deep breath and keep swimming. Focus on the positives. Work to improve the negatives. And never lose yourself in the storm. Because what you are is incredible and beautiful.