Everyone wants to be The Man~
Are you the man?
Everyone wants to be the man. Not the man, but more importantly, The Man. Now, I’m not talking about some hoodwink that fucks shit up and lays responsibility “It wasn’t me, it was The Man”, I’m talking about The Man. The one everyone looks up to. The one who is calm in the face of adversity. Strong in moral fortitude, and won’t back down, no matter what the cost. He’s kind (but not a bitchfag) versatile (but not spineless) bold (but not arrogant) Strong (but not overbearing) and calm (but not stoned). A Man’s man, but also a Ladies’ man. someone who can fit in with any company, can look natural, sampling brandy and cigars, or yelling out battle cries for his favorite team. A cross between James Bond, Hugh Hefner, a dash of Robin Williams, and whatever sports star/ action hero/ rock superstar you feel is necessary.
A bland stereotype that has faded and frayed at the edges. More than that, however, it’s an Icon. An ideal. Everyone wants to be The Man, but how does one become The Man?
How does one know that they have become a man in the first place, let alone The Man?
In Africa, a tribe will cough out a 12 year old boy. He will hunt and kill, skin and scrape, he will journey out and accomplish tasks set forth by the village elders. He’ll return, and in a long ceremony, he will be educated in tribal knowledge. One of the Village Elders will punch the boy in the mouth, and knock out a tooth. “That tooth is for Adam” they say. “That’s the price of being a man.” once he returns, he makes his own hut, he is a man, respected and treated as such. Native Americans had a similar rite, in the Northwest, they would send out a young brave, and he would fast for days. He would build himself a pillar of stones, and he would make for himself three songs: One song about his prowess as a man; One about his tribe, and finally, one about the Great White Spirit. He would (about this time, due to starvation and dehydration, become delerious) have a vision, and he would mark on himself a symbol. If he returned, He would be a man. The Anasazi would send their boys on similar vision quests.
There is always a price to be paid for manhood within ancient rites of passage. As civilization has progressed, such ‘barbaric’ practices have been outlawed. Boys grow up and have no idea what is expected of them. With the increase of broken homes and failed relationships, most boys are raised by women, who I’m not entirely sure know just what to expect and understand about the strange breed of humanity known as Man. Don’t get me wrong, they certainly do their best, But it’s like working on a particular automobile all your life, and then suddenly given a different type of vehicle. Is that the fuel pump, or fuel injector? Manual or automatic? Women may try their best, but a Man will know how to raise Men.
But, where, exactly, have the Men gone? without a defining factor that isolates and identifies a boy from his peers as a Man, he is merely an Adult, in a sea of them, just as equally bewildered as his mother before him. He’s filled with half-baked notions and ideals, farcical practices adopted simply because they’re expedient, and they get the job done, rather than because they are rooted in true maturity and divination of focused thought.
I say that without a ritualized and defined rite of passage, we have a decentralized and unfocused sea of overgrown boys, confused and frightened that sooner or later, a real Man will show up and take away the things they have hoarded. I say that the price of maturity and respect come with the rite of blood, that Men should be identified and marked, that throughout the development and growth of boys, that they are put to the test. A Man knows responsibility, and embraces it. A boy will accept it simply because he has to. Because it’s been thrust upon him. (Oftentimes by his own mother, to be “The Man of the House”.)
A Man will stand in the face of adversity, because he has paid the price for his maturity. He wears his scars of trials and tribulations proudly, not because he is boastful, but because they seperate himself from the children. A Man will be flexible, and adapt to change, because he knows that the law of survival in this jungle we call civilization is brutal: Adapt or Die. He will not cave and buckle because he understands the expectations that are placed on him; even if he doesn’t, he need only look at those scars he wears, probe the missing socket in his mouth with a questing tongue, and he will know that the price of breaking is a loss greater than he can bear. He understands the risks he must take, and does so intelligently; the scars he bears are a reminder that he should wear them, and no one else, and so he is bold, intelligently, thoughtfully. He is kind, because to be without humanity, compassion, and respect for those that are weaker than himself would mean that he is naught but a monster, fit only to be destroyed by Men.