Real Men?

What does it mean to be a man? Societies in the west, and the east for that matter, have shaped the essence of what a man should be. It used to be that gentleman who opened the door for you, that person who held the small of your back as you walked. Even in present day some people think a man is someone who will stand on the edge of the sidewalk when with a woman, to protect her from any potential accidents off the streets.

A man was a provider, a protector, a person of substance that could be counted on.

A man was not supposed to cry, a man was not supposed to play with dolls. A man was supposed to fight to protect, he was supposed to die for the good of others. He was supposed to bask in the glory of that sacrifice.

He was to take on the burden of feeding his family and yet not get too involved in his childrens' lives. He was to be the discipliner, the strength of the family, the one that all looked up to.

A man was described as the strong, silent type. The tall, dark, handsome type. The Heathcliffs, Edward Rochesters and Darcys of this world... the James Bonds, Supermans and Batmans...

He was impenetrable and it was the woman's job to break through that barrier and find the human beneath the shell. The Catherines, the Janes, the Elizabeths... they were the strengths behind the strengths.

All my life, all I wanted was honesty and respect. I didn't need that uncrying, unfeeling gentleman of a person. I wanted truth, spelled out for me to see.

The honesty to be weak, if that were the case. The respect that meant that if things could not be realized, if my needs could not be met, that I would be told as a person who deserved to be told; without pressure, without cajolery, without anger aimed.

Very few people have done that for me. Those are the real men, in my mind. The Matts, the Wissams... I never expected to go through this world without being hurt. Though I tend to be on the naive side, I never expected to live a life unscathed.

But I did expect honesty, I did expect respect.

There is no greater pain in this world than the actions from others which imply you are not worthy of those things.

So where are those real men? The men who are, first and foremost, human?

I do not deny that pride is a necessity. I have lived much of my little life clinging to that concept. But there are greater things in this life than pride.

As I inch towards death, each day progressing towards that inevitable fate, I realize the futility of pride. It only serves to separate yourself. Pride is what separates those that condemn themselves to a life lived alone, from those who keep trying to live a life. Not free of pain, that seems more impossible as time edges on, but a life that includes possibilities.

I am stripped of pride. I stripped myself. I have done things that I can never take back, perhaps out of desperation (yes, most definitely), but also out of hope that some good can come out of mistakes.

We will never be free of mistakes; the key is to acknowledge them and try to move forward. I used to be incapable of forgiveness and I have to work, daily to forgive others for the pain they cause. But of all the forgiveness I must learn, it is forgiveness for my mistakes and my weaknesses that I must try to achieve.

So, are the real men out there? Who are you? Where do you hide? Can you survive in the world of superheros and expectations? Can you survive in the face of disappointment? Can you survive?

There are some women out there, some women who are looking for those pure things: honesty, respect.

Simple words...but so difficult to live up to.


Real Men - Tori Amos (cover)


Take your mind back
I don’t know when
Sometime when it always seemed
To be just us and them

Girls that wore pink
Boys that wore blue
Boys that always grew up better men
Than me and you

What’s a man now, what’s a man mean
Is he rough or is he rugged
Cultural and clean

Now it’s all changed, it’s got to change more
We think it’s getting better
But nobody’s really sure

And so it goes, go round again
But now and then we wonder who the real men are

See the nice boys, dancing in pairs
Golden earring, golden tan
Blow-waving the hair

Sure they’re all straight, straight as a line
All the guys are macho
See the leather shine

You don’t want to sound dumb, don’t want to offend
So don’t call me a faggot
Not unless you are a friend

Then if you’re tall, handsome, and strong
You can wear the uniform and I could play along

And so it goes, go round again
But now and then we wonder who the real men are

Time to get scared, time to change plan
Don’t know how to treat a lady
Don’t know how to be a man

Time to admit what you call defeat
Cause there’s women running past you now
And you just drag your feet

Man makes a gun, man goes to war
Man can kill and man can drink
And man can take a whore

Kill all the blacks, kill all the reds
If there’s war between the sexes
Then there’ll be no people left

And so it goes, go round again
But now and then we wonder who the real men are

And so it goes, go round again
But now and then we wonder who the real men are

And so it goes, go round again
But now and then we wonder who the real men are