Father Time

What if being a “real man” meant becoming more whole—not more hardened? This reflection explores how you can honor both strength and softness, in yourself and in others.

Back in the 1990s, men’s movement literature like Iron John; Fire in the Belly; King, Warrior, Magician, Lover, asked men to make contact with virtues normally associated with the feminine.  Empathy, compassion, the inner life, poetry, and emotional intimacy were to be reclaimed as an integral part of the male experience.  The primary victims of hyper-masculinity, according to authors like Robert Bly, Sam Keen, Robert Moore, and Douglas Gillette, were men themselves.  The need to conceal all vestiges of vulnerability beneath a veneer of go-it-alone-toughness, they said, was cutting men off from intimacy with their spouses, their children, their friends, and even themselves.  During the 1990’s, pioneering feminist, Susan Faludi, gave voice to the need for complementary liberation movements that would free both men and women from their respective confinements.    

These authors described a predominant social system that took men out of their families, and made of them workhorses defined by their productivity.  Prestige and financial gain, for men, came at a crushingly high price.  Harry Chapin captured the melody of that sense of loss.  “When you comin’ home, Dad?”  “I don’t know when, but we’ll get together then.  You know we’ll have a good time then.”

Resentment and misunderstanding frequently filled the empty spaces between a man and his family.  This arrangement built a kind of insecurity into boys who had no real way of meaningfully making contact with their absent fathers.  A sublimated desire to connect with their dads set up the next generation of insecure boys to seek that connection within the fraternity of other fatherless boys, who were still insecure little boys, except now they wore suits and ties, and occupied offices.   

This can all sound overly psychological, but I saw this dynamic with my own eyes and felt the sting of it in my own heart.  Any one of my four brothers would attest to my dad’s most commonly given advice.  As if he were one of Teddy Roosevelt’s Rough Riders, he’d pump his fist and thunder, “Be a man’s man!”  I can’t speak for my brothers, but every time I heard those words, I strongly suspected, that for dad, I was somehow missing the mark.  I wasn’t much good in a fight.  Westerns were boring to me.  When it came to my all-boys’ high school, somehow I managed to attract the attention of  “the man’s man” police force:  the bullies.  Before long, I was made fun of with degrading labels meant to tear down gay men.  I figured that they must be noticing whatever my dad had always noticed.  Conclusive proof that I wasn’t gay would only arrive some years later, but can you imagine what life would have been like for anybody who was gay?  Oy!  Thank God for the fellowship of burnouts who opened their circles to me and passed me a joint.  It didn’t help my athleticism, or my academics, but it gave me a way to get through.

When I was parenting my son and daughters, I was glad to raise them in a world that had been changed by the work of feminists and men’s movement trail blazers.  My kids got to live in a world where their souls could breathe and develop according to the dictates of how God made them, rather than some confining stereotype.

During the last political season—and these days, unfortunately, we seldom get a break from the political season—I frequently bumped into politicized discussions of masculinity and femininity.  Seems like anything that falls into the maw of the culture wars comes out stripped of nuance, and colored in shades of black and white.  It’s been strange to see my dad’s 1970’s voice echoed in political ads, op.ed. articles, and subtly or not so subtly, from pulpits. 

The best thinking in my own religious tradition holds that God contains the fullness of masculinity and femininity (Galatians 3:28).  Made in the image and likeness of God, then, each of us holds a feminine dimension to our soul (“anima”), and a masculine dimension (“animus”).  According to the father of depth psychology, Carl Jung, one of the projects of maturity is to creatively integrate both of these energies.    

Father’s Day is just a hop, skip, and a jump down the calendar.  I want to offer three modest Father’s Day proposals: 

(1) Dads, can we create space for our children to explore and express both the anima and the animus contained within their totally unique and unrepeatable souls?

(2) Can we exercise the courage to respectfully keep politics away from our children’s psychosexual development?

(3) And can we extend that same kind of graciousness to our own self-parenting no matter how old or how young our totally unique and unrepeatable souls are? 

Dialogue and Discussion Questions: 

Longtime SMC readers know that “the Dialogue” section of this article is set aside for a good conversation over a cup of coffee—with a friend, with a group, or just with yourself! As always, feel free to share your reaction or reflection in the “Comments” section below.

• Can you think of a famous person who you regard as a great example of healthy masculinity?

  
  

• Can you think of a movie that portrays a healthy example of positive masculine energy? Can you think of a movie that portrays just the opposite?

  
  

• What did your mom and dad tell you about what it meant to be a man or a woman?

  
  

• By the examples of their lives, what did you learn about what it meant to be a man or a woman? How has that influenced your approach to living your life?

  
  

• Name a role model or two that you grew up admiring.

Please share with the SMC community your thoughts and/or reflections in the comments below.