A Few Good Men
March 24, 2009, by Connie Stetson
Strongman Eugen Sandow, 1893, Library of Congress
I want to sing the praises of good men. Men who teach, love and protect children. Men who deny their own needs in order to put their families first. Men who really like and seek the company of women. Men who are called to service, or art, or creation, or justice; who can fix broken things, can build and farm, who cook, and men who use their strength to stand for those who cannot.
It often becomes so easy for women in our righteous anger, disappointment, frustration and worse, real fear, to disparage our brothers. Some of the most hilarious, satisfying, nasty conversations I have with my girlfriends are over martinis and indulging in a little cock talk. (And you can take that any way you want.)
But it hurts my soul to feel that we need to see men as adversaries, that we feel the need to brace ourselves in their presence waiting to see if we’ll be assaulted, and that we feel essentially unsafe in their company. So we get snarky and funny, and blame them for what has and has not happened to us in our lives. Of course, lots of women, me included, have real reasons for arming ourselves. I am a rape survivor and other women have endured worse and more than I, and so many more have not survived their encounters with damaged, brutal men.
Yet, I just had a call from an old boyfriend who wept tears of joy because he’s found true love again in his midlife and I have married a good man who would stand in front of a moving train rather than see me hurt. And all my male friends, funny and sweet, who almost never get the grace to allow themselves to crack, who have also had their souls injured—(who among us has not?) I often wonder who is actually carrying the heaviest burden, women—who are still not free and equal—or men, who have been socialized to deny their authentic hearts?
What would it feel like to be truly equal? To shed our prejudices, pride and pain, and just look into the eyes of a man and see simply another human being?
In my fifties, I long for more understanding, compassion and forgiveness. I have a deep need to release myself from the quagmire of my past and move forward to a more peaceful, productive, reasonable place. I am far from that place right now, but sisters and brothers; it’s where I’d like to be, and it is all about the journey, isn’t it?
March 24th, 2009 at 7:05 am
Here in the wild west, I have seen a man dancing. A big barrel of a guy, cowboy hat and bow legs, who moves aroudn the dance floor (I’m talking two-step here) with such grace and obvious joy. I love watching him. I didn’t realize until just now that part of the reason I love watching him (though his joy is contagious) s because its an image of a man/men I’d like to see more. Somehow I think they’d like it too.
March 24th, 2009 at 8:42 am
A-men!
March 24th, 2009 at 8:49 am
The few……The proud……The sensitive!
March 24th, 2009 at 8:55 am
This essay elicits so many thoughts, Connie.
I first think of my father, who at the end of his life shed bitter tears that he had purposely chosen not to be involved in his daughters’ lives because of the rigid male stereotype he endeavored to fulfill–even though behind vodka gimlets and golf clubs he was a sensitive, emotional being.
I think of our former president, the one-dimensional George W. Bush, strutting around the flight deck of the USS Abraham Lincoln in 2003 wearing his little flight suit costume with its giant codpiece; a banner behind him declaring “Mission Accomplished.” Was he, as the songwriter Pink asks, “a lonely boy” behind all that false and unearned bravado? A lonely boy who just wanted his parents’ approval if he was the preppy cheerleader and not the quarterback? Why couldn’t he just cry and put his head in Barbara’s lap? Why did 5,000 Americans and half a million Iraqis have to die for his inability to access his feelings of insecurity?
How many wars and heartbreaks and rapes have occurred because men are are ashamed to admit–or would be punished for–their insecurities and frailties? How many affairs and ponzi schemes have behind them a tremulous, vulnerable being who just wants mommy or daddy or someone to say, “You ARE the best boy?”
March 24th, 2009 at 10:50 am
As always it’s all about balance. Our dear brothers give us plenty to bitch about, and while it’s all fine and good to acknowledge and understand the hurt and vulnerability behind those boys who become big fat idiots (like Bush), that doesn’t mean we have to accept their behavior. (And no, I don’t think that’s what dearpru is advocating.) That being said, I love our other halves, and love watching them beam when I pay them a compliment on how great they look. They’re not that used to it, and they love the recognition!
March 24th, 2009 at 11:17 am
Pru–that gawdawful picture of Bush strutting about on the USS Lincoln declaring, “Mission accomplished” was like saying, “I got off, now where’s my pizza?” I always say, “the bigger the car, the smaller the codpiece”.
The more men that reject that kind of image of inauthentic power, the closer we all become to a middle ground where we can really talk about equality.
March 24th, 2009 at 11:23 am
My dear friend, upon seeing her newborn son for the first time, pledged to raise him to be a MAN– A kind, considerate and caring man. She was specific that she was NOT raising a BOY. She was raising someone’s future husband, father and/or friend and she took the job very seriously. Her baby was not going to repeat the mistakes of past men in her life. I have never forgotten those words. Now at age 12, her son recognizes the sweet taste of homegrown tomatoes and eats every bite. He knows the difference between grocery store bought flowers (an impulsive gesture) and personally selected flowers from a florist (a deliberate gesture) and that both have significant meaning to the recipient. He’s a great protector of animals and rescues neighborhood pets from harm’s way. He makes friends easily and knows the importance of saying “I appreciate you”. He often uses words like “magical”, “meaningful”, and ‘I love you”. Although he’s at the age where he’s conscious of what the other kids might say, he’s developed a system with his Mom to always let her know he loves her, even when knee deep in peer pressure– A squeeze of the hand, a wink of the eye, or a few code words– then he’s off, to be a boy with an eye on manhood. These are the things TAUGHT to him by his MOTHER who loves him unconditionally.
March 24th, 2009 at 12:11 pm
I have been blessed by being surrounded by a “few good men” from my birth and still today. My father, brother, best friends, ex-lovers (all except the ex-husband) fit that category. To me that’s the norm, and the others are an unfortunate anomaly. It’s the power-grabbers, who often have those negative traits that give them visibility, but I won’t allow them to represent the male majority. I’ve never enjoyed and rarely participated in “male bashing,” that said, the humor in the difference of the sexes is something I enjoy whole-heartedly. And as Joanna J. commented, BOYS and MEN are a different breed. Let’s honor those good MEN (menches), each and every day!
March 24th, 2009 at 9:24 pm
I am the mother of two sons who have grown to be two distinct individual men of honor. I know they love me and I have always loved them and will continue to love them unconditionally. They are as different as the sun and the moon. Craig is my sunshine son, sensitive, kind, gregarious and the one who was never afraid to run off the basketball court in high school and give his mom a hug. Sean is a man who likes to “save” things, perhaps that is why he is a firefighter. He has a much harder time showing his feelings but shows things by his actions. He doesn’t like to give presents but will give me gifts of his actions such as building a fence, helping clear our property, splitting wood. He acts, not speaks. Craig listens to me and actually calls me and we have long meaningful converstation. He writes me witty and loving letters. I have been blessed to be their Mom. Both came to see me in The Vagina Monologues and it was so hard for Sean, but he was there on the front row because I asked him to be there, because he is a good man. My son Craig came the next night (because he too is a good man) with his father (my husband) Smiley. It was difficult for Smiley to be there but he came because I needed him to see a part of me I had hidden while raising the boys. I had asked him to bring me flowers and after the show was over I went towards him to get them. He didn’t have any. I looked at him and stupidly and selfishly said, “Where are my flowers.” He looked away in sadness and I think anger. My son, Craig, enfolded me in his arms and said, “Mom you were the flower onstage, I am so proud of You.” He also wisely told me, “Mom, Dad is here and that should be your flowers from him.” Smiley and Craig came to the chocolate reception and Smiley is allergic to chocolate. A counselor once told me, “Your husband is a good man.” That I think says more than anything. Thank you Connie for sticking up for the gender that my family is mostly made of. My life with them has been a journey filled with good men.
March 25th, 2009 at 3:00 pm
My father was A Good Man. You could see it in the way he raised his daughters. Don’t know what would have been if he had had sons….