(Consider this an open letter to men (also women) around the world irrespective of what your age or ideologies are, be it socially liberal or conservative, feminist or not. I write this piece to appeal to a diverse audience with diverse beliefs on what being a man really means. I seek to appeal to the logic and conscience of individuals which are inherent irrespective of how conservative you are, without wanting to antagonize anyone for their opinions. You may disagree with me or wholeheartedly believe in my ideas as well. Either way, I wish for this article to engage with you on a personal level and really get people thinking. So sit back, relax and give it a read! )
In the tapestry of existence, there lies an irony so profound that it casts a shadow upon our collective consciousness. It is the irony of choice.
We don't choose to be born a man or a woman, rich or poor
We didn't choose to grow up hating each other for the colour of our skin or our gender.
Hell, we definitely don't choose to be born in this whole wide world in the very first place.
It is all a lottery of birth
someone somewhere shuffles pieces of paper in a bowl and picks one or spins a wheel and we end up wherever it lands on.
I mean, there is a reason why therefore we call it “sex ASSIGNED at birth” and why gender, therefore, divulges from it.
But from that very moment, they take their first breaths, girls and boys are thrust into a world where their paths diverge, shaped by the expectations of society.
Ever think about why girls are handed delicate Barbie dolls and dainty kitchen sets to play with while boys get flaming hot wheels and boisterous baseball bats for their birthdays?
Ever wonder why pink, which envelopes a soft cotton candy cloud, came to be a colour associated with girls while boys gravitated towards the boldness of a blue or the rage of a red, often reminiscent of the roaring waves and boundless skies?
We didn't all collectively (at least explicitly) agree that this was how things are supposed to be.
We find seeds of a societal script down beneath the innocent choices that we as kids used to make.
As we matured into adulthood, something changed
We lost the innocent souls in us whose curiosity knew no boundaries
Who ran through fields together, hand in hand.
We didn't know if they were a boy or a girl or what it means to be one
All we knew was that we had a friend in that person and we enjoyed our time with them.
But sure, I won't deny that there exist some differences between men and women.
I also won't be the person who vehemently wants to strike these differences down and create a homogenous world.
I rather wish to be someone who respects and understands what these differences mean in reality.
Someone who can embrace the beauty of these without feeling the need to assert dominance or superiority against one another.
Someone who understands that these differences are not a warm fuzzy blanket which covers the entire male or female populous.
That every individual is unique, different in our own ways in which we want to live our lives, we have our own definitions of comfort, happiness and joy. To argue that my way of living life is better than someone else`s is like arguing that my way of brushing my teeth or polishing my shoe is better than yours. It is arbitrary and simply petty.
Thus, we become real men only when we realize that we are living a life which we had no control over from the very beginning.
You are living a life where every decision you've made so far and will make in this future were poisonous whispers of society. Were made because of rigid adherence to arbitrary standards without taking a step back to understand what they meant,
were made out of cowardice and fear of being shamed and shunned by these very people around us who don't care about you and whom you've never met.
Nothing ever was our choice, therefore. Not the identity we are so proud to let go, the norms, narratives, so-called cultures and traditions which we think make us a real man, nothing was ever our choice. We were puppets doing what we were told while someone else was pulling the strings.
Real men break out of this suffocating bubble of ignorance
A cocoon spun around us to protect a fragile ego and heights of insecurity
So much so that to feel good about ourselves we had to put down our contemporaries, friends and families who make up half of this goddamn world.
If we do not believe in blaming people or treating them differently for things which are out of their control or are in no way a direct result of the choices they made, why is gender any different?
If “real men” define their own lives, hold themselves accountable for their own choices and definitely are brave enough to not make decisions because someone else told us so, or are woke and cool enough to not care about anyone's opinions but our own, then we must be fair and strong enough to admit the wrongdoings and open our minds to accommodate to reassess how these standards are met.
I mean if men are so brave why are we afraid of a little change for the better right?
Hence, it is important to understand that a “real man” isn't a singular narrative or an image of an ideal person that exists. Rather it is a set of norms and standards men are expected to meet to be certified of their identity as men in this world.
Men are told to be the breadwinners, to be “the man of the house” and to be the ones in charge and keep going no matter what.
Especially for a dad. Who is not just silent, but is made to be satisfied by the sacrifices he makes. For whom his passions are told to be less important than fulfilling every need his family has often at his own cost. Living a 9-5 life, hustling till retirement, saving up for college funds, installing ACs, paying its bills, and amidst all this, very rarely does he spend money or time to buy something he likes or wants, very rarely does he complain. All because he's been indoctrinated from a young age that it is his duty and god forbid if someone questions their duties! Yes, he's a real man, but the question is should those be the standards someone has to live up to? Do you want it to be the standards you or your dad have to live up to? I guess not. So I suggest we rework these standards.
So what does a real man mean to me in an ideal world?
In the realm of relationships, a real man is a pillar of support.
A father, gently cradling his newborn child, his hands embracing the delicate innocence that has entered his world, his brows relaxed, smiles from eye to eye, voice so sweet and soft, almost childlike.
A husband, with tears flowing freely from his eyes without his own realization, when he sees his bride in that beautiful white dress, choking on his tears while he vows to be kind and supportive to love till death does them apart.
A boyfriend, who doesn't hide the butterflies in his stomach, but lets them fly, whose girlfriend is a pest in his mind living rent-free and would do anything to just sit there at the coffee shop and patiently listen to her talk all day while admiring the beauty in every word she is saying.
A son, a mama`s boy, anything he does is to make his mom proud, to see the happiness on her face over little things he does, a son who cooks, does the dishes and mops the house so that he doesn't see his mom silently suffering in pain; her hands callused and legs swollen, and a boy who wipes the tears off her face when she sees her little boy all grown up being independent.
In these moments, he realizes that true manhood lies not in brute force, but in the tenderness that resides within.
But also, the strength, courage and resilience masculinity requires is misplaced.
Vulnerability is a sign of courage
Speaking up about our feelings, to seek help, doesn't make us weak. It means we have decided to wage war on the demons inside of us.
And remember you win a war not in a day but by winning multiple battles over time.
You win a war not by yourself but with the help of an army, your comrades, your allies and sometimes even your enemies themselves
So the next time you shed a tear remember that it isn't surrender, rather it is you opening the floodgates for your demons to drown
Remember, that a cry for help, is a cry for war
Further,
A real man is not defined by his wealth or his status but by the content of his character and his merit in society.
As a spider man once said, “With great powers comes great responsibility”
A young boy matures into a real man when he truly understands what that saying means to his life.
Real men are like artists, painting their lives with passion and purpose. They carve out precious moments for themselves, investing in their passions like a potter moulding clay. Whether it's the thunderous roar of a football stadium, where their allegiance to a single club ignites like a roaring flair that they hold in their hands or the serene melody of a guitar string plucked with heartfelt emotion, their passions envelop them.
Men understand that nurturing their souls allows them to better nurture others.
Look at the end of the day, there is no such thing as a real or a fake man.
It is a matter of choice which lies in our hands. We are who we choose to be.
We despise each other for something as arbitrary as the genetic dice roll that determined our physical form. We forget that beneath the surface, we all share the same aspirations, the same fears, and the same capacity for love and understanding.
It is time we transcend these arbitrary boundaries, allowing each child to explore a kaleidoscope of colours and play with a symphony of toys. To rise above societal expectations and break free of the shackles of masculine standards,
Is to rise like the phoenix from the ashes, a symbol of hope, of life and of better things to come, born from the knowledge and experience of difficult times and challenging circumstances.
Let dolls and Hotwheels coexist, let the kitchen and the football field blend.
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