Jehan Casinader
Ethnic Kiwis must ‘play by the rules’ in white NZ
Idon’t consider myself a great guru when it comes to how to be a successful modern man. So when John Daniell got in touch to talk about a podcast he wanted to make tackling modern masculinity in Aotearoa, I was hesitant. For one, I fervently ignore the advice of anyone claiming to be a life coach.
I thought if there was such a book called The Guide to Being a Modern Man, it would be light on evidence and thoroughly vague. Look to social media; there are plenty of chiselled men offering doleful advice about healthy living and a ‘‘positive mindset’’. None of it makes you feel better.
‘‘Body positivity’’ is a term wielded by the genetically gifted. The ideal of male breadwinners is upheld by one-per-centers who have trust funds to thank. I say, forget it. So instead of laying out a road map you’ll never be able to follow, we’ve interviewed Kiwi men about their own experiences. What’s clear is there’s no one right way to be a man, but there are clearly bad ways to be a man.
Many problematic views of manhood and gender roles have been engrained in our culture, and we know what harm has been done. From domestic violence to poor health outcomes, and abuse of power, we need to change how we think about masculinity.
Part of my hesitancy, I suppose, comes down to the fact I don’t tick all that many boxes of male success.
My first attempt at dead lifts at the gym, last week, resulted in me needing a lie-down and almost vomiting in the bathroom.
I’m also a journalist in 2021, and my girlfriend is a lawyer-intraining. Ergo, it won’t be me bringing home the bacon.
I’m really just a guy who likes having a chat with different people.
I’m resigned to the fact that traditional gatekeepers of masculinity may not award me an A+, but I also think that doesn’t really matter. It’s a diverse world. We don’t need to hold ourselves to standards forged in the Pa¯ keha¯ -dominated 20th Century.
However, it’s not that simple. John and I started working on the He’ll Be Right series at the start of last year. It gave us the opportunity to traverse the nation meeting men, women and also non-binary Kiwis with something to say about masculinity.
I wanted to meet men who ticked all the boxes, or at least seemed to. Sometimes a clear structure, rooted in tradition and history, gives purpose and meaning. Tradition is most certainly not a dirty word.
But I was also certain we should talk with those ostracised by the old ideals. Also, what about people such as Scout Barbour-Evans, a parent we caught up with in Dunedin? Scout told us they identify as non-binary, but on the masculine side of the spectrum.
They shared their experience with gender, detailing difficulties such as accessing medical help and also the judgement and abuse they’ve received from strangers.
Scout now identifies as takata¯ pui, a Ma¯ ori term encompassing gay, transgender and intersex. Even though some ignorant people have hit out at Scout for being themselves, their identity is still rooted in whakapapa and tradition.
They underwent gender confirmation treatment. The treatment means Scout has far more testosterone than most men, but the attributes often associated with the hormone – impulsiveness and aggression – don’t appear to have taken hold. Remember that the next time young men are allowed to make a nuisance in the name of ‘‘testosterone’’.
It wasn’t long ago that those characteristics of masculinity – that men were natural leaders – were held as gospel. But stereotypes aren’t often built on strong foundations. And we spoke to men who strode down these pre-determined pathways, only to find themselves stuck in a miserable rut.
On the one hand, supporting your family, and being able to provide what they need, seems perfect. It’s an enviable,
honourable position.
I visited Pou Temara, a professor of tikanga at Waikato University. He’s a master hunter, incredible reo speaker, proud dad and proud member of his iwi, Tu¯ hoe. He’s in his 70s and holds steadfast to tikanga, looking as far back as gods such as Tu¯ matauenga for guidance about how men and women should act.
To me, tikanga is not just about order. It’s about connection. It’s fair to say the Ma¯ ori world is all about connections. Whakapapa details people’s connections to each other, ancestors and the environment. When you acknowledge interconnection, reliance and community, everything works better together.
A lot of strength is harnessed through whakapapa and the traditions it brings. BarbourEvans uses it to find strength in their identity, by looking back to takata¯ pui tu¯ puna.
Temara is focused on how connections can be upheld in a society which seems to be splintering. When Ma¯ ori live across the world, he’s looking into how they can keep their iwitanga away from their marae.
Colonisation has also torn many Ma¯ ori from their connections.
I think there’s a lot to learn if we look to whakapapa.
The major issues of masculinity – such as abuses of wha¯ nau and others – indicate a breakdown of whakapapa. To disregard or hurt someone not only damages their mana, but your own and others connected to you.
Prison programmes teach whakapapa now. They recognise that many of the men who end up there do feel dislocated in society, with few positive connections.
This is something Ma¯ ori leaders have known for a long time. Mason Durie, a hugely respected Ma¯ ori psychiatrist, changed the way many think about healthcare through his whare tapa wha¯ model. He argues wha¯ nau, spiritual, physical and mental health all play an equal role in upholding someone’s health.
He’ll Be Right sought to work out if men in Aotearoa are doing OK. It’s about more than just men, however. We know that no man is a silo. When someone isn’t well, it’s not just them who feels it. Their wha¯ nau and connections are all impacted.
After a year of conversations about what it means to be a man in New Zealand, I’m convinced we have some problems.
In our discussions around the country, men opened up. We talked about so many topics, from rugby to anthropology, and feelings of pride to isolation.
Since the podcast’s release, it’s been interesting to see how people have responded.
Yes, a lot of men have been in touch to share their stories and thoughts. But an equal if not greater number of women have also been in touch. They’ve been asking me how to get their students or partners or sons to listen.
When wha¯ nau is impacted, the whole wha¯ nau feels it. Many women seem to know this.
At low points, we often feel very alone. Many men shared as much when we talked.
I remember speaking to Ben, a father brimming with pride about his own children. But he wasn’t always so positive. He opened up about his past, when he had been abusive to his family. He said he felt the need to control, to meet the standards of perfection he sought. Those standards were likely an impossibility. But the failure he had felt as a father, when he didn’t reach those standards, drove him to self-isolation.
In this podcast, we wanted to find how to be a modern man. But there’s no perfect way to live. There are no simple fixes because there’s no one issue. To the contrary, there seem so many options – so many ways to be a modern man.
But there is one clear issue modern men face today; a fear or a lack of connection when the going gets tough.
It seems too many men have felt like they are alone. Maybe, sometimes they are – and that’s not good for anyone. We need whakapapa, we need connections.