Jonah Hinebaugh | The Crow’s Nest
By James Bennett III
I honestly have no idea what a “real man” is. They’re a bit like the IRS — plenty of people have seriously assured me they exist, but they’ve never been able to prove their existence to me.
I’ve certainly heard the term before. It always seems to lurk around people who have a narrow view of masculinity — people who idolize Chuck Norris and think Ron Swanson is a real person.
I’ve seen crying children told to grow up and be a real man. I’ve heard friends say, “Real men don’t do yoga.”
Hell, the other day, some washed-up personification of smoker’s lung threw a screaming fit at my roommate and me for buying a case of White Claws. He said real men drink Bud Light. I suppose the irony that he was buying a Twisted Tea was lost on him.
It almost seems like they’re implying the only “real men” in the world are the ones who follow a strict list of appropriate conduct. I guess real men live however other people tell them to.
But the thing is, I’ve never seen a definitive list of what constitutes “real men.” For the list to be completely objective, it would need to come from some all-knowing source of information — like, the manliest god you can imagine — and it would need to explain the manly thing to do in every possible situation. Otherwise, readers would be forced to subjectively interpret the document whenever their “realness” was on the line.
If there is such a list, I would certainly like a copy of it. I would use the list to find fake men — who I assume are mostly just racoons stacked on each others’ shoulders in a hollowed-out man costume.
Perhaps cultures other than my own can shed some light on “real men.”
I’ve been to a couple of bar mitzvahs, the Jewish ceremony that signifies a boy’s transition into manhood, but I’ve never seen a 13-year-old be referred to as a “real man.”
No luck there.
A brief presentation from the University of Idaho explains that some aboriginal coming-of-age ceremonies involve cutting the boy’s urethra with a sharp stone flake. Other ceremonies involve knocking teeth out.
I personally don’t have the nerve to become a real man if that’s what it takes. I doubt anybody I’ve ever met could make it through those ceremonies.
Perhaps “real men” simply don’t exist.
Maybe, like plenty of other things in life, the notion of real men is completely subjective and only serves as the false authority used to control people’s actions or perceptions of the world.
If you ask me, which I highly advise against, a real man is whoever decides to call themselves a real man. They don’t need to be bearded, fearless warriors; they simply need to feel comfortable with their masculinity.
