Cloaked in a field of impenetrable armour, nothing breaches your defences–the feeble battalion’s assault repelled and rejected. The thought of wretched foes occupying your land disgusts, each viral incursion a plague on your house. This is no isolated skirmish. It’s a blood feud. A decades-old war inciting enmity and hate. Its genesis is found in cultural convention–stereotypical expression reinforced or repudiated. There’s no middle ground in this death match, one where only salted plains remain.
Masculinity and vulnerability are mutually exclusive–heralds championing antagonistic banners. To espouse one means forsaking the other; strong and stoic versus weak and emotional. Archetypal heroes dominate the imagination–muscle-laden warriors vanquishing the wicked, devastating trials, and ultimately, revelling in success. Perfected over millennia, the formula arouses a primal impulse–one seeded in our very existence. To meet the primitive demands of our physical environment, evolution engendered a response, sexual dimorphism the outcome. Truthfully, sex differences should be celebrated–complementary yet contrasting pieces wondrous in totality. Embracing the role of man, the protect-provide-perform triumvirate enchants yet for all its appeal, like a Remora clinging to its host, pressure suffocates–expectation the ailment. Here, the stupidity of a misguided mutually exclusive belief shatters.
Vulnerability is misunderstood, considered weak and womanly. In a culture forever promoting and rewarding the shrewd, cunning, and able, the spoils are magnificent–wealth, power, status, and success–so it’s no wonder when perceived as offering competitors an advantage ripe for exploitation, men demonise, devalue, and discard vulnerability; I was no different. The problem with holding such a position is twofold: 1) it relegates everything to a zero-sum game: and 2) it belittles feminine strength. While life is inherently competitive, jousting matches need not abound–ego provoked by our biological imperative and socialisation. There’s an aspirational model to follow, one which only a few can realise. The irony is, the Alpha male persona is just that–a public face. Our idea of what it means to be masculine is informed by an apparition–a shadow walking in the dark. Hidden from view, the private struggles of society’s heroes exist. They’re inconvenient realities contravening the narrative. Moreover, while there are physical strength differences between women and men, the idea women are weak and vulnerable is absurd; psychological fervour and childbirth prime annihilators. Here, conceptual understanding matters.
Boys grow up mistaken in the belief one’s physical ability is an all encompassing measure of strength. Why? Our milieu is one saturated in Alpha male adulation. Whether it’s action movie stars, musical icons, sporting champions or online juggernauts, smartphones, social media, and high-speed internet accelerated the spread of carefully cultivated personal brands–a development worthy of reverence and revulsion. The opportunity to engage and interact with those we admire can be inspiring, but it’s a double-edged sword–one thrusting deception, typified by a musclebound charlatan crediting a specific nutritional and training regime for his Adonis-like physique, exposed as little more than a high-level anabolic steroid user. Creating false body image impressions can be damning– male despondency a real threat. Frauds as such seed doubt in hard work, dedication, and sacrifice, while simultaneously “cashing in” and advertising the preferred aesthetic as naturally unobtainable. In reality, males come in all shapes and sizes, varying abilities, beliefs, and philosophies–all tinting life. Why define masculine strength narrowly? It’s more than how far you can throw a ball, how much you can lift or how fast you can run.
Seventy-five percent of annual suicides in Australia are male. How many were preventable if men felt permitted to freely express their thoughts, feelings, desires, and opinions, without fear of judgement, disappointment or reprisal? Moreover, what if boys were empowered to recognise and engage rather than shed and suppress? Research findings differ on how the sexes process emotions, but one thing cannot be disputed–emotions kaleidoscope life, brushing experiences with the good, bad, and indifferent. Whether gender stereotypes, social constructs or personal choice, the failure to identify, explore, develop, and utilise the full emotional spectrum can be devastating–stunted personal development the likely outcome. When driving, do you limit yourself to one half of the gearbox or do you make use of every available gear, picking and choosing the one most suitable for the task? Could dealing with feelings of loneliness, isolation, disdain, and lack of purpose be better identified and addressed by simply granting ourselves permission to access our full emotional gearbox? That begins and ends with questions asked and answers delivered.
It’s a strange thing, masculinity. Not only is women and children first an accepted norm, but in the same vein, men rush to the aid of others, placing themselves in precarious positions. Here, actions, words, and definitions matter–mindset modification key. Reactively courageous, instinctive physical vulnerability appears to come with the territory, but thoughtful emotional vulnerability, that’s a bridge too far–a masculine taboo–why? Why do we perceive one act as valiant and the other threatening? Why are men willing to sacrifice themselves for a stranger yet fail to confide in their companion? What is the disconnect? Has society conditioned and tethered men to antiquated beliefs, constraining our emotional repository, or are we not capable of engaging the full gamut of human emotion? Seeing men openly display tenderness, affection, and care is one thing, listening to them privately communicate fear, sadness, and regret another. Maybe the disconnect isn’t in our ability to engage our emotions, but in the belief our audience will perceive our admission as weakness and thus, diminish our personal standing. Perhaps vulnerability is a straightforward matter of trust.
Power dynamics help define relationships. Whether dominant, submissive or equal, the role one occupies in a given circumstance determines much. What must be understood is power dynamics aren’t static–they’re situationally fluid. While an overall theme may present, nestled inside, opportunities for distinction catalyse. Nobody is expected to be everything–it would overwhelm and moreover, the impeccable doesn’t exist; our imperfections distinctly human. Here, one has to wonder if a primitive mindset tailored toward competition infects reason–vulnerability the razing relative of weakness. What about control? When sharing sensitive information about oneself, you’re ceding control over those details and, putting yourself at a disadvantage by equipping others with ammunition to be (potentially) used as leverage in the future; public scandals are built on these breaches of confidence. Furthermore, does fear of the unknown retard logic? Will this embarrass me? What will my partner think? How will they react? What if sharing ruins our relationship? Does this mean I’ll end up alone? While mental inventions, they manifest as real concerns. Relationships must express confidence, for when revelations are shared and admissions invert the power dynamic, honesty and trust nourish love.
Western society’s current infatuation with the abdication of personal responsibility shoulders considerable blame for the malaise presently dogging men. Constant deferral and/or excuse-making does little to promote personal growth. Facing and overcoming trials and tribulations does. This starts and ends with being honest–holding a mirror up to oneself. When forced to confront our fallibilities, a sobering albeit necessary examination occurs. Like anything, the first step is recognising a problem exists–the second being the initial attempt to fix. Similar to an intervention, external direction means nothing if internal motivation is lacking. Action must be intrinsically inspired. Until you decide to act, everything else is noise–babble skirting the periphery. Here, the insidious nature of relinquishment should become apparent–the idea someone or something else is responsible for you, abhorrent. Don’t misunderstand–trusted others will help. These people are guides instrumental in your personal chrysalis but the genesis moment–the spark exhilarating action–that must come from within. Why? You’re the only person in the world privy to your inner thoughts–all of them. Operating on fragments of information, why is another better placed to psychoanalyse your inner world ahead of you–the one person with unfettered access? Leverage experts, lean on friends, and turn to family, but do so in the knowledge, the responsibility to effect positive, meaningful, and permanent personal change/growth rests with the individual–you.
Leading an impoverished emotional life isn’t living–it’s a bleak and barren existence. Being emotionally unavailable and distant doesn’t indicate the inability to feel or express–they’re symptoms of a restrained cause. There’s nothing weak about sharing your fears with your partner, telling your friends you value and love them, providing parental warmth and tenderness to children, sitting in moments to properly evaluate and process disappointment, asking for guidance and/or help, and admitting (to oneself) you don’t have all the answers. In fact, it strengthens. Vulnerability is being truthful, self aware, and comfortable in your own skin. It’s understanding you don’t have to carry the world on your shoulders. Demonstrate faith by dropping your armour, lowering your defences, and inviting the trusted, valued, and loved to peak behind the curtains. Brave responsibility by sharing then correcting. Validate resilience by trekking the arduous path of growth and improvement.
Being vulnerable isn’t a teary theatrical performance, it’s giving yourself permission to build on the traditional archetype by embracing feeling and expression. If charity begins at home, men have it within them to brighten their world with a figurative cry.
Comments
I absolutely love this blog post! It’s so refreshing to see someone challenging the stereotype that big boys don’t cry. Emotions are human, regardless of gender. Thank you for shedding light on this important topic!
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75% is a huge number. Indeed, I have experienced the loss of several young men (sporting team mates) who have taken their own lives and its reverberations are devastating. Many thanks Erik for sharing your thoughts.