In the dream I had been out of town and arrived late to a workshop, which had
been in session for several days. As I arrived, a man stood up, very angry,
and addressed the group of men and women. He put his hand down the front
of his pants and took it out again, then said how he wasn’t sure, but he
thought it was the lack of money that had caused all of his problems.
Then, another man got up, and putting his hand down the front of his pants,
and taking it out again, he very angrily said that it wasn’t the lack of money, it
was women who had caused all the problems for men. In all, five men got up,
and did that same gesture. Each one had a different reason for their outburst:
our culture, their job, real estate, finances, retirement, the list went on.
I raised my hand and the facilitator called on me. I said, “At first, I thought you
guys were doing an aggressive gesture, like Michael Jackson. But then it
seemed that you did it to assure yourselves that what you had was still there
and to protect it somehow. I’m sorry I’ve missed so many days of this
workshop. But I think I’ve missed a lot more than that. Where have I been
that I did not see the desperation and anger in men?”
The facilitator said, “I know you have not been in prison, and that you keep up
with the news—but what is your work? Are you a stay-at-home Mom?”
“No, I’m a minister.”
“Ah, that explains it,” he said.
Not wanting to disrupt the workshop or monopolize it, I dropped the query but
couldn’t quit thinking about it. Recently, I’ve said to a few people, “We have
to do something about the fact that our men die so much younger than we
do.” The most frequent answer I get is, “hormones,” meaning that to be male
works the body harder and it wears out faster. Yes, there have been studies
on giving men female hormones and watching them live longer. But not many
men want to do that, knowing they lose maleness.
Maleness and Masculinity—intertwined, but different. It’s like art, we don’t
know much about it, but we all know what we like. I’ve pondered how the
human race keeps procreating when, in our culture, men and women become
more alike in what they do and think. Sort of, like my pondering how birds tell
each other apart. What is this urge to procreate that is so strong, it unerringly
finds the opposite?
Having been raised in the 20th century, a time of cultural change between men
and women, I’ve seen traditional ways of being and interacting stood on its
head. No longer do women wear skirts, men wear pants. No longer is the
kitchen women’s bailiwick and carpentry, (fixing things) the bastion of men.
I’ve accepted that my role can be expanded, but it seems that his has been
diminished in the process.
Maybe its because the things formerly thought of as women’ work had less
status, so when men do them, they have less status. And, the things men did
had more status, so when women do them, they have more status. Statistics
show that when women begin to work in a formerly male job, such as ministry
and teaching, the make less money than men in the same job. In fact, all
teachers and ministers make less money now. Economics is another avenue
to explore, but not as interesting as the evolution of masculinity.
Maybe the “civilizing” process socializes men away from masculinity,
beginning at a very young age in school. Boys have a harder time sitting still
and learning to read. But they have to have this skill to get along in the world.
Maybe they are still geared to be cave men and current culture not only does
not reinforce that, but frowns on it. After being married to two men (consecu-
tively, not concurrently) and known a few others (not in the Biblical sense) I’m
often amazed at how men conduct themselves through the civilization’s maze.
How do they decide to show their masculinity in a world that no longer values
their hunting prowess, (except in Idaho) or their ability to lift and carry heavy
things? Hod-carriers of America, unite! I read a book once that delineated
women’s part in keeping men masculine. It was trite in some ways, but true, I
found out by experimentation. It idealized females in fiction who acted
properly feminine and helpless around men.
So, that night, I decided to see if I could get my way by stomping my little foot
and acting helpless. When my husband, Ernie, came home from work, instead
of griping straightforwardly (as was my usual mode) about something he had
not done, I acted like I was going to cry, pushed my fists down like little
Shirley Temple, and told him in a child-like way, “You make me so mad!” Poor
guy, he didn’t have a chance—he melted. In that moment, I could have had
anything he could provide. I knew then, that I could keep that marriage
together, but at what price?
I have to admit, though, that I learned two valuable things from that book: men
like to be complimented on how they handle money and their job. (And
anything that is seen as exclusively a male skill.) I have been grateful, many
times, to have someone bigger and stronger than me to lift and carry heavy
objects; to turn the screwdriver in surfaces too impermeable for me; to
change a tire; to get something from a high cupboard; to build a campfire; to
fix a car or motorcycle; to mow the lawn; the physical list goes on. But, I want
all you men to know that a woman, with the right tools, can do the same stuff
as men, it is just harder.
And when it comes to mental work, we now realize that it is old-fashioned to
think that men have a better handle on facts and figures. Women’s brains
work just as good as men’s. Not only that, but women, using their brains,
have not come up with any more ways toward world peace than men have.
You thought that when women got the vote, they would change the world—
make it a better place to be. Fat chance—women are just as egotistical, war-
like, self-seeking and greedy as men.
The French have a saying, “Vive la difference!” So, what is the difference?
Why do I get a thrill just hearing my husband, Willie, talk in that deep voice of
his? What is it about Robert Redford or Colin Firth or Hugh Grant that turns
me on? They don’t act particularly masculine, whatever that means. Except
in that movie, “Bridget Jones’ Diary” where the two guys actually have a fist
fight in the street and restaurant over Bridget. Maybe that is the reason I’ve
seen that movie five times.
So, what can we do as women to help our men live longer and get their hands
out of their pants? I say value them as individuals, not because of what they
have in their pants, but because of what they have in their heads and hearts.
It is the same thing we women want—not to be lumped together with all other
women. Meanwhile, if he can check the tires, I don’t have to. If he knows the
constellations, he can point them out to me. If he can build a good campfire,
I’m willing to gather the wood. If he makes a mean scrambled egg, I’ll wash
the dishes. If he tells a good joke, I will laugh.
And as we get older, we’ll take each other to the hospital as needed; to the
movies as wanted; to church every Sunday; to the bedroom where what we do
is nobody’s business but ours. We’ll count the birthdays and the grandkids.
We’ll mourn friends and family who die on us—“how could you? I needed you
to be here a little longer.” Last, but not least, we’ll praise God for making us
different, even if we are not French.
