Gender issues obviously loom large for writers.
What makes a male or female character convincing in terms of personality and behavior? It's a question that appears to be increasingly interesting -- and perhaps more problematic -- in the age of gender and occupational fluidity.
A couple of very recent articles, one in the Washington Post, and the other in the New York Times, shed some interesting light on this issue. Both are authored by writers.
In the first, "I love being a stay-at-home dad. And I still struggle with what it says about me as a man," Jason Basa Nembec, with commendable candor, agonizes on Father's Day over his decision to put his wife's lucrative career first. Intellectually, he's fine with it, but in his gut, it feels all wrong. He wishes masculinity could be "redefined."
A complementary article, "One Year on Testosterone," suggests it may not be easy. In it, the author, Linden Crawford, a person born as a woman who eventually discovers she is gay, begins taking testosterone because she wants to experience what it does for one even though she isn't interested in making a full transition. As a result, she begins to acquire some rather classic "alpha male" characteristics, perhaps of the sort Mr. Nembec above is trying to shed.
Nembec has a PhD in English with a focus on creative writing, but was unable to land a full-time teaching position at a university. "If I let myself think about it, I felt like a failure," he says. So he agreed to accommodate his wife's successful career in the retail industry by staying home and taking care of first one young daughter and then a second as well.
Although "an amazing privilege," the role has not squared well with Nembec's underlying makeup, which he appears to ascribe to cultural influences as opposed to human nature.
"Inside, I was starting to struggle big-time with my identity, measuring myself against some old-school societal notion of what makes a successful man" -- most notably, in his view, that a man should provide for his family. "It's a narrow notion of masculinity that I don't even believe in, yet can't fully break free from. Who knows what cultural mash-up of school friends, TV, movies and whatever else even built it."
Nembec tries to "reinvent himself" as a bartender but finds he can't work the necessary hours because of domestic needs and more than two-years into his unconventional stay-at-home role, "still sometimes feels deeply ashamed for not working to bring more income into our bank account."
"Unfortunately, shame doesn't hit me on a logical level. It's an internal voice that quickly gets visceral. It his me in the gut. It radiates out from my torso like a wound, sometimes twisting the tension in my neck into a migraine headache, sometimes bringing me to tears, sometimes both."
The bottom line: Nembec doesn't want to change. Rather, he wants the world to view masculinity, and, in particular, what it means to be strong, in a different light and then he'll be able to feel better about himself.
Turning to Crawford, who I have (with my apologies) referred to as "she" or "her" (because Crawford's preferred "they" is too confusing for most readers), it all started with a desire to experience what having a mustache might be like. That, in turn, eventually led to curiosity about taking testosterone in order to be bigger and stronger.
"What I wanted was virility, and I was afraid to admit it," Crawford says, while at the same time conceding she didn't want to become ugly and "felt guilty for squandering my feminine beauty and grace" even though she says she never identified with such traits.
So, while Nembec feels shame about failing to live up to conventional notions of masculinity in order to accommodate other priorities, Crawford experiences guilt about throwing away conventional notions of feminine appeal in pursuit of goals that conflict with such traits.
Shrugging off warnings of adverse reactions, Crawford begins applying a gel containing a low dose of testosterone and finds her physical strength and stamina soar.
Most significantly perhaps, in view of current criticisms of "toxic masculinity," Crawford says: "It's a bit disturbing to observe that the more masculine I feel, the freer I feel to do what I please, and not to do what merely pleases others."
The phrase "free to do what I please" brings to mind Donald Trump, Harvey Weinstein, and Jeffrey Epstein among a host of other conventional males, both contemporary and over the course of history, and in fiction as well as in life.
As she continues taking testosterone, Crawford finds she smiles less, finds it harder to cry, experiences more prolonged periods of irritation and experiences a sense of justified anger that is both empowering in the sense of being a call to action, but at the same time disturbing in the sense that it is a trait women don't generally enjoy.
"I am grateful to be more in touch with my anger, but also outraged that my sense of entitlement to such a basic emotion correlates with the amount of testosterone in my bloodstream."
There's a lot to think about here -- for readers, for writers and even for the authors of the two referenced articles -- since a lot what these authors discuss appears to be unresolved,
In addition, there is what Crawford calls "gender panic" among the general public -- emotions that set in when someone can't clearly identify another person as a male or female.
"I face gender panic constantly in my daily life and my work as a bartender," Crawford says. "Since it threatens my sense of safety as well as my rapport with customers, I've learned to monitor its progression carefully."
That's an interesting statement because a trait that runs far stronger in women than in men is a sense of vulnerability. So despite her testosterone-induced added strength, stamina and virility, Crawford retains a key underlying attribute of femininity.
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