The one thing about my early years that really astounds me is how consistent the messaging was: I was constantly told I was doing something incorrectly. I was just a kid, but the world had already decided what was ahead of me, and everyone was determined to keep it that way. It was a route of manhood and masculinity. The route was hallowed.
Manliness and manhood have long been viewed as a single kind of expression. This is imposed on everyone and everything in society.
One day, after our session with him concluded, a teacher at our school ran after me. Perhaps it was eighth grade. “Beta, you have to stop walking with your hips like that,” he abruptly remarked.
Then he rolled my shoulders back and instructed me to walk with my chest. Later in class, this same teacher would chastise me for using my hands to talk, once more emphasizing manliness. Before long, I would start talking to myself in that voice. I used to make sure to reposition myself whenever I passed a mirror: shoulders back, chest out, hands tucked in.
I had a better time connecting with ladies when I was younger. It was simpler to talk to, connect with, and be myself with my sister, her friends, or even simply the girls in our social group. I didn’t need to surround them in armor. They didn’t appear to care about the “path” to masculinity or how I presented myself as a man.
