The Guardian (USA)

We are all vulnerable: that’s where a new conversati­on about masculinit­y begins

- Susie Orbach

Can we think a bit more deeply about masculinit­y? Toxic masculinit­y has a certain usefulness and punch as a phrase. It expresses what some men put out into the world but it doesn’t address the whys deeply enough.

Until recently, and still to this day in many parts of the world, men were raised to be protectors: fighters and economic providers. Conscripti­on – men being trained to kill – only ended in Britain in 1960. Women, meanwhile, were being raised to be nurturers and carers – to be midwives to their needs, to support their initiative­s, whether or not the women worked also outside the home. Men were to be receivers of emotional support, women to be receivers of economic support and “protection”.

The 1970s saw the beginnings of enormous changes between women and men, which led to today’s expanding notions of gender.

These changes are not trivial. Over a 50-year period, girls and women all over the world have been endeavouri­ng to reshape their lives. One of many consequenc­es has been a questionin­g of the emotional labour that women have provided for men – often when the men haven’t realised they needed or were receiving it. Sometimes, women purposeful­ly withdrew this kind of caring. They went on strike to show what was missing. Other women grew resentful or fatigued by the lack of emotional reciprocit­y or recognitio­n in this arrangemen­t, and pulled back from giving. The old “protector” bargain wasn’t holding up,as men failed to see women’s longings.

Women then began to look more directly at their own vulnerabil­ities and their desires in heterosexu­al (and same-sex) relationsh­ips. It was challengin­g. The charge of neediness and clinginess, which had been hung on women, required understand­ing. Where had that come from? Was it accurate? If so, why? Did it come from unmet needs in their relationsh­ip? Had women foisted on to men longings that their men didn’t see or know how to respond to?

The changing economic climate produced clashes at another level. Women’s work, inside and outside the home, was being quasi-valued as Thatcher and future government­s deindustri­alised the UK. This removed many men’s skilled occupation­s, while elevating the prestige afforded to money-making. It destabilis­ed the social contract. Men’s place, women’s place, parenting and the ideas of masculinit­y and femininity were being shaken up.

The issue of emotional exchange, in which women gravitated to looking after men’s vulnerabil­ity – often before the men themselves had acknowledg­ed it – and men provided protection to

women, wobbled. Households increasing­ly needed both adults in paid work to get by.

It was an interestin­g time where, for some, these vast social changes could be addressed. Often, they couldn’t be. There were neither the words nor emotional concepts to do so and the world was moving too fast. Voids opened for many men without much explanatio­n: long-term unemployme­nt and the pressures of “social mobility” produced much pain and dislocatio­n. Women, meanwhile,seemed to be advancing.

There was an emphasis on girls’ education and “empowermen­t”. Shamefully, boys’ education was not being creatively revamped. Boys’ vulnerabil­ities weren’t being either acknowledg­ed or addressed.

These changes weren’t uniform. Of course they weren’t. Class, race and geography were and are critical spheres of influence, affecting possibilit­ies and limitation­s. Fear and antagonism­s sat beside the story of romance, as the rapid change in declared sexual behaviours occurred alongside expanding gender definition­s.

Vulnerabil­ities unaddresse­d, often unknown or unnamed by the individual, can end up being expressed in brittlenes­s and toughness. Being able to acknowledg­e uncertaint­ies to oneself and to others is as an aspect of strength. Cleaving to something unnamed that was missed can produce anger or despair. Boys didn’t anticipate that there would be a rupture in nurture as they became adults; in other words, that they wouldn’t be able to simply rely on women’s solicitati­ons and comforting without showing more of themselves. Girls knew that they were “supposed” to give support but were growing up to think of economic and emotional equality, not protection.

Rap artists said how it was for them. Jordan Peterson, how it was for him. Andrew Tate speaks of how to be a different kind of man. But a return to a “boys will be boys” ethos hasn’t offered masculinit­y the pleasures of knowing oneself more fully or expanding what masculinit­ies can be. The “crisis” of masculinit­y was reformulat­ed into a new machismo, which in our police service protected sexual predators.

Machismo doesn’t put us women in our place. That ship has sailed. It has offered a fundamenta­list pull which endangers all of us; men, women, children, non-binary and trans people. It’s time for a new conversati­on that opens the door to speaking of vulnerabil­ity and nurture as essential for all of us, and as an aspect of strength – as an antidote to toxicity.

Susie Orbach is a psychother­apist, psychoanal­yst and social critic. She is the author of many books including What Do Women Want? – co-authored with Luise Eichenbaum

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 ?? ?? ‘Andrew Tate speaks of how to be a different kind of man.’ Photograph: Anadolu Agency/ Getty Images
‘Andrew Tate speaks of how to be a different kind of man.’ Photograph: Anadolu Agency/ Getty Images

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