Loving the bookish and the cool

Posted on October 7, 2004 by Hugo Schwyzer

I’ve been thinking about some of the comments on my post on real manhood, especially one from Charles that I’m going to quote at length:

I totally agree that it might have been helpful to me to have had a male role model who could have told me clearly, “No, look, what they tell you a man is, is a very limited thing. If you make yourself into a man by their instrucitons, you will hurt yourself badly, and you will spend decades trying to find your way back out to be a full human being. The only thing that makes you a man is your body. What makes you a human being is both your body and your mind.” And of course, it would have been better if he could simply have modelled that.

On the other hand, it was women who told me that most clearly, and if they could have been clearer, I probably would have listened in the first place. Nobody was very clear about explaining this sort of thing to children and teens in the late seventies and eighties, at least not where I lived, but at least I was lucky enough to encounter it at all.

If that is what you are doing, if that is what you are advocating, then all my wishes and hopes go with you in your work. But if that is what you are doing, then I don’t understand why you care if women are different than men. Men are different enough from men. Surely that difference (what I am comfortable being, what you are comfortable being, what Amp is comfortable being) is the important one in working with men, whether you are trying to get people to find their comfort or to break out of their comfort. Isn’t it infinitely more important to say “Some men are this, others are this,” than to say “Men are this, women are this other?”

Do you mentor only aggressive, hyper-masculinized teens? Or do you need to mentor introverted, bookish teens as well?

Let me begin an answer to those excellent questions with an autobiographical note: I was an introverted, clumsy, bookish, unathletic, slightly chubby teen boy. I was teased and harassed throughout my elementary and junior high school years. I found solace in two places: books and the theater. I spent years working with a community theater group as a kid, and it was in drama that I first found “folks like me” who felt like misfits. Most of my good friends were girls — and boys who were on their way out of the closet! I was not remotely good-looking. I had unrequited crushes on several of my female friends, who thought I was “nice, but…” I had only one straight male friend in high school, and even that was often a tense and ambivalent relationship. So, Charles, I think my bona fides as a certifiable geek are in place!

By the way, it was the theater that turned me into an extrovert (enough that I went from an INFJ to an ENFP on Myers-Briggs tests over the years).

I spent years loathing the available models of masculinity. Indeed, one of the reasons I first went into gender work was to find something different! I wanted to know how to be a different kind of man than the men I saw around me. It was women’s studies work that led me to men and masculinity workshops and led me to want to re-define and reclaim authentic (I won’t use the word “real” anymore, it is too easily misunderstood) masculinity.

When I first started working with teenagers, I was scared to work with the boys! The girls came easily to me. I found it much more easy to offer aid and comfort and support to young women than to young men. Over time, that reality began to gnaw at me. Why was I so scared of reaching out to boys half my age? Was I afraid that I would be found wanting in their eyes too? Was I afraid that they would reject me the way I had been rejected by so many of my male peers in high school? Eventually, a dear friend of mine pointed out to me that by not reaching out to the boys out of my own fear, I was missing a vital opportunity to both heal some of my own wounds and to nurture young men in a way that they were not usually nurtured. It was time for me to grow up and get to work loving boys.

When I’m in youth group with the kids, I make sure to pay equal attention to the boys and girls. But I really enjoy those times when the boys and I get some time just to talk amongst ourselves. No, we don’t beat our chests or beat on drums or beat on anything. We talk. The shy, bookish, clumsy ones who look like Hugo at 15 talk. The graceful, proud, “alpha male cool boys” talk. The black boys talk. The white boys talk. The Peruvian boy talks. There are moments of rough humor, but I never use objectification of women to try and create a bond with these guys. (Nothing could be more counter-productive.) We talk about girls, and we talk about parents, and we talk about the pressure to “be a man”. And I don’t deliver stirring lectures about self-control and responsibility. Mostly, I shut up and listen. And I ask questions. And I always, always, always try and suggest that they think of manhood in terms different from those that our culture uses to define the term. It isn’t easy work, but it’s good work.

Oh, and yes, all the boys in my youth group hug. Squirrelly, chest-bumping boy hugs to be sure, but hugs nonetheless.

What can I offer my boys that a female youth leader can’t? Not much, except for one crucial thing: Most of these boys have been loved on and cared for by women all of their lives. They are accustomed to getting whatever validation and acceptance they do get primarily (if not in some cases, exclusively) from women. That validation and love and affirmation is terrific — but as a young man, I longed for older men to approve of me (hence my hero worship of my graduate advisers). To say that sex makes no difference is to ignore the longing that I know was in my heart and which is clearly in the hearts of so many of these boys whom I love so damn much.

And for the record, I’m still bookish. I’m still a geek. If my posts have created the impression that I am some sort of “hail fellow, well met” bouncing ball of testosterone, I am sorry.

Kerry, Edwards, male touching

Posted on July 9, 2004 by Hugo Schwyzer

Conservative bloggers have developed a remarkable fascination with the level of affection displayed by John Kerry and John Edwards towards one another. The Drudge Report even has a nice montage of photographs on the subject.

My dear fellow Golden Bear Annika wrote:

Now i’m not offended by two men being physically affectionate with each other (not even two political candidates who until two days ago were rumored to have disliked each other intensely). It’s just that this Democratic touchy-feely shit is such an obvious attempt to pander to us female voters. Yah, i’m sure the polls and focus groups say we’re supposed to respond more favorably to men who hug each other. Maybe we do in a general sense, i don’t know. But i do know that in the midst of a war, in which our enemy has made no secret that they want us all dead, and that they are not interested in negotiating on that point, and that they’ll stop at nothing to kill us all, and as violently as possible . . . well let’s just say i’d rather have a couple of men who shake hands leading our side in that situation.

In the comments below her post, I quipped:

You’re just baiting me into another soaring paean to male affection on my blog, aren’t you, Annie?

And today Candace triple-dog dares me to post on the subject. I haven’t been triple-dog dared since I shoplifted some Bazooka chewing gum from Woolworths in 4th grade (I got caught, thank you). Still, a dare is a dare, so here goes (and it ain’t short):

Male-male affection has an interesting history in America. In the 19th century, it was not uncommon for men to share a bed with one another (Abraham Lincoln’s behavior in that regard has led to countless tiresome discussions about his sexuality, most of which completely miss the point.) Men in the 19th century from all backgrounds and social classes were regularly photographed in postures of great physical affection. (See this fine collection, which despite its title, is not composed of only gay men.) And almost everyone who has traveled in Mediterranean or Middle Eastern countries has noted that many other societies permit men far greater degrees of affection and physical intimacy than we do.

Annika’s comment that in times of crisis, she’d rather be led by “a couple of men who shake hands” is telling. The notion that affection equals weakness and reserve equals strength is a 20th century equation. Michael Kimmel, in his magisterial history of masculinity Manhood in America links the connection between physical affection, homosexuality, and weakness to the first third of the 20th century — and no earlier. (The reasons for this are too many to cite here, but range from industrialization and the emergence of “office work” to the rise of the suffrage movement.)

In any event, what strikes me about my conservative friends in the blogosphere is that none of them seem to think that Kerry and Edwards really are lovers in the sexual sense. Their affection, in the eyes of critics, is less indicative of homosexuality than it is of unmanliness — and that is an important distinction. After all, no one on the right ever accused Bill Clinton of homosexuality (the evidence to the contrary was a bit too obvious for everyone), but they regularly accused him of being “soft” — both physically and politically. Clinton’s penchant for hugging everyone in sight (a practice that is extremely common in the African-American churches in which he was raised) troubled many social conservatives whose ideas of manhood are rooted in early 20th century ideals of Anglo-Saxon masculine reticence.

The belief seems to be that a man who demonstrates physical reserve in his interactions with other men is a man who is disciplined. In hyper-masculine America, physical intimacy that isn’t sexual is supposed to be a feminine province. Girls can hug and caress each other; men can only hug and caress women. On a deep level, far too many Americans still associate the feminine with the impulsive, the emotional, the irrational, and the vulnerable. Thus a man who is physically reserved will be seen as more thoughtful, more self-contained, more rational, and more reliable in a crisis than a man who hugs and pats and embraces his male friends.

It would indeed be absurd if a man who faced live fire in Vietnam (even Kerry’s critics agreed he did do so on numerous occasions) would be seen as somehow less masculine than a man who bravely defended the republic of Texas in the Air National Guard. But historians know that almost all American elections boil down to struggles over differing visions of masculinity. (Kimmel traces this back to the presidency of Andrew Jackson, who was the first to make the effeminacy of his opponents an issue.) In general, social conservatives tend to be more anxious to preserve traditional sex roles. As a result, one key element of Republican strategy this election season must be to portray their Democratic opponents as inherently less masculine than the president and Mr. Cheney. For the second time in a row, Mr. Bush must run against a Democrat who went to Vietnam; he is thus robbed of the chance to make national service an issue. (Social conservatives LOVE that one, though it doesn’t always work, as Bush Sr. and Bob Dole discovered against Mr. Clinton). Without the war card to play, and given how deep the cultural beliefs of white Americans are about male affection, weakness, and effeminacy, we can expect those who support the president to ridicule Kerry and Edwards for their open — and to my mind refreshing — physical contact.

I hope that all of the hugs and pats between Kerry and Edwards are genuine, and not merely a ploy to please certain constituencies. That would be disappointing. But I’m a man who hugs my male friends whenever I see them. I have two male friends whom I can think of to whom I am not related and whom I regularly kiss (on the cheek). As I’ve written before, I hug the boys in my youth group (I hug the girls too, of course). For the record, I’m blissfully heterosexual, and I adore being a man. I’m even kinda stereoptypical: I play sports, love watching sports, listen to redneck music (Bocephus, anyone?), I have a hairy chest, and to my gal’s continued frustration, I leave my dirty clothes on the floor. Not sure what that proves, but there it is. In any event, when I see a man display genuine affection for another man, I gain greater respect for him because I know just how cruel folks of both genders can be to those whose behavior deviates from our narrow American paradigm.

There’s so much more to say about this. For example, I could note that Democrats are often seen as less masculine because Democrats tend to emphasize the importance of communal responsibility over individual initiative. Both secular and religious lefties think government has a vital role to play in making the world a more just, tolerant, and equitable society. In our culture, we see that kind of mutualism and interdependence as essentially feminine, while we see Republican ideals like self-reliance as more masculine. But that’s another post.

I’ve got some Mennonites coming over tonight. We’re gonna eat our usual eclectic repast, we’re going to talk about the Lord, and we’re going to take Matilde out of her cage and play. But first, we’re all going to hug. A lot.

Boys, girls, hugs

Posted on June 15, 2004 by Hugo Schwyzer

I consider myself blessed to have grown up in a physically affectionate family. Not only was I regularly hugged and kissed by my mother, but I still hug and kiss my father whenever I see him. (I am grateful that my father, born in Austria, grew up in a relatively demonstrative culture.) As a schoolboy, however, I learned quickly that any sign of physical affection between men (other than during a sporting event, and even then, of a very limited and specific nature) was associated with homosexuality and effeminacy. I didn’t hug a man to whom I wasn’t related until I went to college.

Now, of course, I work as a volunteer youth minister at the local Episcopal church. During the past five years, I’ve worked with a couple of hundred high school-age youth. It’s given me a lot of time to think about gender and physical affection. If there’s one thing I’m committed to, it’s modeling appropriate but loving physical contact with my kids of both sexes. That isn’t always easy to do. Not surprisingly, I have had to confront my own acculturation when it comes to physical affection with young men.

First off, we live in a society that is absolutely obsessed with issues of sexual abuse. This obsession is particularly apparent in our churches and our youth ministries; the past three years have brought devastating news of molestation and abuse in every denomination (though our Catholic brethren seem to have taken the brunt of the hit). In this climate, all men who choose to work with youth are open to suspicion. Some of what is being done in response is good and necessary: stricter background checks, for example. But much of what has happened has not been useful, and some of it has even been counter-productive. I have a friend who works in youth ministry at a Presbyterian church nearby, and he says he has been told that the church’s policy is to never have any youth minister touch a kid in any way at any time. No hugs, no pats on the back, nothing. He’s looking for a new church.

Working with adolescents has taught me just how starved most of them are for safe physical affection, especially the boys. And over time, with input from those on staff at the church, I have developed my own guidelines for my own behavior. What it boils down to is this: I am an inveterate hugger. I hug everyone. Kids, adults, men, women, boys, girls, chinchillas, the ficus tree in the corner. That sounds more compulsive than it is. I have to be constantly, keenly aware of body language. I don’t foist hugs on anyone. Nor do I treat hugs as inconsequential, like Hugo’s version of a casual handshake. What I’m trying to do doesn’t always work perfectly, but it does seem to work most of the time. I’m trying to create a culture in our youth group where non-sexual physical intimacy feels safe and reassuring and validating. That takes a lot of time. Some kids came for six months before I could hug them. Some hugged me the moment they met me. Even in a nurturing and safe environment, there will be different levels of comfort with physical affection.

Many of the girls, of course, have little experience of non-sexual affection from men. If I hear one more story from a teen girl about how her father stopped hugging her when she began to develop, I’m going to scream. (I’m not a father, of course, but I’m just mystified by that phenomenon, which, anecdotally, seems to be epidemic). Many of them, though very young, have already been objectified and harassed by men my age or older. They are in desperate need of truly safe adult men — men who are neither responsive to their sexuality nor terrified of it. For the record, as a matter of common sense, I am never alone with teenage girls at the church. Ever. I also regularly “check in” with my fellow volunteers and with the church staff, asking them to be willing to challenge me should I ever even appear to behave inappropriately. But none of that stops me, when the barriers have been broken down, from hugging.

I don’t hug boys the same way I hug girls. For the most part, with the boys, “horseplay” is the safest environment for physical affection. We do a lot of that at All Saints Church. Mind you, I don’t get down on the ground and wrestle with the kids! But the playful pretend punches, the slaps on the back — all of these can be imbued with very real caring and affection. When I was a high schooler, I wasn’t ready to be held by older men — but I sure as hell wanted their attention, and I did want their caring and affection. A quick squeeze of the shoulder was about all I could take, but damn, did I want that squeeze of the shoulder from men I looked up to! I try and remember that. (I should note that some high school boys do like to hug just as much as the girls do, especially once they realize that ours is a safe environment).

In our current climate of hysteria, we in the church need to struggle to find a balance. We must of course protect our young people from exploitation and abuse. We must do everything we can to create a safe place within our church communities for our teens. But a place where every gesture of physical affection is seen as dangerous is an inherently unsafe environment! Our young women need to be reminded, over and over again, that they are loved and cared for non-sexually; in that effort, a hug is worth ten thousand words. Our young men need to be reminded, over and over again, that here, at least one night a week during youth group, they don’t have to be “tough guys.” They need men in their lives who will love them without judging them or assessing their fragile masculinities.

I have to admit, it’s a bit scary to post about this. I know that many, many women out there — and some men — have devastating stories of betrayal at the hands of male authority figures. I know that many of them know just how awful it can be when what was supposed to be a “safe” hug or touch becomes something far different. I try to never lose sight of that reality. But it is also because I am so aware of the prevalence of sexual abuse that I insist on touching the youth with whom I work. I do so not to show my disregard for common sense, but as an act of defiance against a culture that declares all affection to be suspicious. I do it because the kids need it. I do it because we all need it. And I do it because Jesus did it.