What’s going on with men?

Walking out of the hardware store a few weeks ago, I faced an older, bald man wearing shorts and a baggy t-shirt on his way in. I made a move to walk around him when he stopped dead in his tracks. “Did you forget your smile in there?”

I don’t know what’s going on with men because I am not one. I could not begin to say. Personally, I don’t think there’s a problem with men generally. I think there are problems of specific men, and that those problems are exacerbated by gender and its historical significance. I think the general population of men is responding to this time in history just like the rest of us.

I do know a little about the men I see. Last year our PTA had only one man consistently attend meetings and participate in the conversation. He’s good at it too. At breakfast my friends and I joke about how sexy it is that he understands the mission and shows up to help. There is something irresistible about a man willing to use his professionally developed skillset and connections for the benefit of children that aren’t his own. We’ve each accidentally fallen in love with him a few times. Thankfully, he’s married, so our fantasies stay in the realm. In the elementary school more broadly, I know that the vast majority of the teachers and administrative staff are women as well. I can only think of a few exceptions. Is it possible there is large pool of male applicants being overlooked on the desk of some testosterone-hating S.J.W.?

I think what might have happened is the “fair and balanced” system men were forever touting accidentally became fair and balanced. Like for real. Those who saw the system for what it was hustled on ahead, but those who had been granted merit for existing suddenly found themselves having to prove their worth from the inside out. Take it from someone who knows, building an internal sense of worth is harder than it should be. The desire to pursue validation from everyone around you is a habit that dies hard. GM, my brothers.

I’m not saying men are worthless, I think everyone has value. What I think has them tripped up is how they define that worth for themselves. Last week in Philosophy class, my male professor was breaking down the linguistic roots of the terminology we were using to discuss the problem of evil. This is my personal interest in the subject. Linguistic philosophy. I like words through time and the science of distilling them to their purest form. Omnipotence was one of the words we were discussing, also impotence, being it’s opposite. He joked how demoralizing it was for men that the term encapsulating erectile disfunction meant without power. I suspect he makes a joke along these lines every semester. I smiled my take-it-from-someone-older smile and said “It’s only demoralizing if that’s where you believe your power is.” His face told me that he may not have considered an alternative.    

When you’ve spent your collective lifetimes trying to impress others with the money in your wallet or the concealed carry in your pants, and it turns out people don’t care about either, I’d imagine it’s a bit bewildering. I think they’re surprised because those are the things that men care about. Even our candidate, the world’s most heterosexual male, seems really impressed by the penis size of another man.^[1] You’re never too old to explore new sides of yourself, I guess. But, for many of us, money and good sex don’t cut it in an inhumane world. Power can be impressive, but only if you aren’t adding to the problem. Tell me what you are doing to help.  

Remember back when America was “great,” and all the rich guys used their money to build sh*t? Where’s our modern-day Rockefeller building public housing that not only serves the population, but gives us some real f*cking architecture to look at? Does everything have to look like a glorified cardboard box? What’s it all for if you aren’t spending it on some ornate building with your name slapped on it? You can be one of those guys! Just pay a fair wage and shell out for inclusive healthcare for your workers. I’m sure every one of those old guys in history would be considered a terrible person by today’s standards. But that’s because we are better people today. We get better. Back then there were good guys and bad guys just like there are today and there will be tomorrow. It’s important to remember that there aren’t two camps, there are temporary dichotomies. History is big on defining men as good or evil, when what we should be defining are the actions.

There is a lot of discussion about men and their social stagnation. Men find their brothers trapped in basements with their high school diplomas, losing their sense of self without someone to oppress. They reach out to women to say look what you did to us and our status in society with your ideas. Buddy, we didn’t do anything to you, we undid what you did to us. We’re all back at the axis. It’s like saying Hey, sorry about all the rape and intentional agency denudation for all those years. Our sons don’t want to move out. Can you fix it? First of all, if we knew how to fix it, you wouldn’t have even noticed it was broken. Second, women can’t tell you what’s wrong with you because WE DON’T KNOW! Frankly, it sucks that you’re asking us. I have to figure out my shit and your shit, too? No, thank you. I’ve got enough on my plates.

If I did offer my opinion, would it be heard?

Ink and I were out for a walk one day when we ran into a neighbor and his dog, Shitzy. That’s not the dog’s real name, but it really fits his character. Shitzy does not like Ink or any other dog. I know this because every time we walk by his house, Shitzy slams himself into the glass door like some kind of deranged velociraptor. On this particular day Shitzy was out on the leash for a walk with Sam. Shitzy is always interested in greeting Ink, and it never goes well. Ink greets everyone in the face, which is impolite dog behavior but she beta’s herself immediately, so most dogs are fine. If the other dog is a power-hungry little f*cker like Shitzy, it’s trouble. It throws him off that she gives in so easily. Shitzy freaks out and snarls, causing Ink to jump, then he barks and bites at her from the end of his leash. My neighbor Sam snarls at Shitzy and asserts dominance by grabbing the scruff of Shitzy’s neck until he yipes, while growling at him to knock it off. Of course, Shitzy does not knock it off because now he has a real threat. Sam continues yanking on the leash and barking at Shitzy to calm down and Shitzy is barking and scraping his nails on the pavement as he pulls toward Ink.

I had to walk away. What else could I have done in that moment? The kindest thing for me to do for Shitzy in that moment was to walk away. At least the offending dog would be out of the equation. I could have tried to discuss the situation with Sam between barks. I could have attempted to explain what I know about dog training and maybe we could try another method, but Sam, wholly focused on getting Shitzy to obey by force, would wave me off and tell me the dog is just terrible. There’s nothing to be done with him. And because he thinks it, so it is. Sorry, Shitzy.

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[1] Rest in peace, Mr. Palmer. I am glad you are not alive to experience what has happened to you.