#MeToo and What Comes Next
Leaving (are those his PJ pants?!?), muscle brass in tow, for a man-box haven: middle school. The pressure is real.
I’m not easily swayed. To the frustration of Kirby vacuum salespeople and real estate agents across the Midwest, I’m not quickly convinced, if at all convinced. As Jimmy Buffett sings, “Indecision may or may not be my problem.” Maybe that’s my affliction, too, but I think it really it comes down to my preference for being in my head, mulling things over.
And over.
And over.
Aaaaaand…
over.
Constant wheel-turning is one of my seriously introvert traits. Overall, I’m an ambivert, sitting on the fence between getting jazzed from socializing and feeling the same while reading a book, but the in-my-head (sometimes to a fault) tendency is the introvert vein that runs deep and wide through my core.
So when #MeToo exploded on social media, I took pause. Not because I didn’t respect and support the movement and the courage of thousands of women across the globe (in France the handle was “#balancetonporc…”Expose your pig.”), I wasn’t sure whether to participate and face my own inclusion in this far-reaching sorority. What would it mean (if I did join in)? Am I ready to openly admit what happened in the past? Do I (should I) relate the details? Where will this hashtag movement take the world? I needed to join up on terms I was comfortable with. So after much thought (surprise), I’m made my decision, way after the fact. So here it goes:
#MeToo
The final question I allowed myself, and the question that caused me the most pause was, then what? Being a serious “planner” I needed the next step ready and waiting in the wings should I state #MeToo; I needed my own admission to have a followup. Like with improv, I wanted to be ready to answer, Yes, And? Agreement with something more to add, to keep the conversation going. My fear that the movement would lose momentum, fade away, and that someday we’d have to start all over again with another #MeToo made me realize that my delay in joining the conversation is just fine. Let’s bring the talk back to the gross injustice after something else dominates the headlines and magazine covers and reignite the call to action and demand for change.
I’ve read my news feed. I’ve read editorials. I dove into the “Person of the Year” feature in Time honoring The Silence Breakers. I’m sad. I’m angry. I’m disappointed and discouraged that in the 21st century our society isn’t yet enlightened and brave enough to accept women for who we are: smart, motivated and equal members of the world.
Yes, and? As Faith Salie wrote in the “The View Viewpoint” in Time, we need to raise “sweet boys” who “grow up to be men who recognize the strength in being vulnerable and empathetic.” Absolutely. But how? Salie goes on to suggest forums in the school setting and parental permission to feel and express the gamut of emotions. The responsibility goes beyond the nuclear family setting and lies on society in general. I couldn’t agree more. If the “man box” confines men and boys to stifling their feelings and dominating the “weaker” gender in order to cope with inner turmoil, this ideal needs an Xacto knife taken to its edges, broken down flat and tossed to the curb (but don’t recycle this one…trash. it.). It’s a huge task that will take motivation, time and real effort by all of us to set in motion.
A timely opportunity arose recently when our local college sponsored a viewing of the documentary The Mask You Live In. (also available on Netflix). Not sure how gritty the film would get, my husband sat down with our two nearly 13-year-old sons to watch at home. The film opened up a dialogue about the pressures of conforming to the narrow requirements of the “man box” and reached into the realm of addictive screen habits and media content that objectifies women, normalizes violence and advertises pornography. Watching this documentary furthered our journey in helping raise young men to become leaders in (what should be) the contemporary meaning of “manning up.”
Real men love puppies and aren’t afraid to show it.
“Manning up” means embracing emotion and that all of us…women, boys, men and girls…experience the full gamut of feelings. Women get angry. This does not make us “bitches”, it makes us human…alive. Boys and men get sad. This does not make they “sissies” or “gay.” It makes them human. Not weak. Human. Feeling, breathing, empathetic people. I’ve seen my dad shed tears. My father-in-law was a regular waterworks. My husband isn’t afraid to show his sadness; he refuses to leave the room when he sheds tears of grief, missing his huge-hearted father who passed away a few months ago. But he knows how important it is for his sons, and his daughter, too, to see him express his feelings.
Perhaps the guys need a movement, too. May I suggest a couple hashtags to go with it?
#reallymanningup
#breakingdownthebox
Show the world who you really are and be it. It’s OK. If you can tear the box apart, you can build up women.
Put me on that girls’ soccer team! I’m ready…GIRLS RULE!
~Jimmy Buffett, in a live cover of “Brown-Eyed Girl”
on the album BUFFETT LIVE Tuesdays, Thursdays, Saturdays
