Easily the best example of using my strength for others that comes to mind is living with my grandmother during my first year and a half of grad school. As this also overlapped with the first year of covid, this gave me multiple responsibilities: mowing the lawn, shoveling snow, and helping move furniture were obvious things, but so was being the one to get groceries or pick up prescriptions during the lockdown. Spending time together was also important, often just through watching British detective shows or Jeopardy together (RIP Alex Trebek). Even after I moved out, we still went for dinner weekly until I moved to a new job last year. At the same time, I also came face-to-face with the difficulty of my own laziness and tendencies towards selfishness—was it worth sleeping in or going to a restaurant with friends if it meant that she might mow the lawn herself or get sick because I brought covid home? (The latter never happened, thankfully, but the former did.) My grandmother is an independent, stubborn, capable woman, and it was not an uncommon experience to come visit and find that she had moved a couch down to her basement all by herself, or to drive over (after I moved out) to shovel the driveway and find her out there, driveway shoveled, smirking and acting as though nothing was out of the ordinary. This slowly impressed on me the need to be less self-centered and more proactive in meeting the needs of others. This is still a work in progress, but as I've become engaged to a young woman who is similarly stubborn, extremely competent, and unwilling to ask for help for fear of being a burden, I've had to learn to anticipate her needs and offer my strength before it's requested—not so that I can do everything for her and fix all her problems (I can't, and she wouldn't want me to), but so that she knows that my strength, skill, and time are there for her.
"I've had to learn to anticipate her needs and offer my strength before it's requested—not so that I can do everything for her and fix all her problems (I can't, and she wouldn't want me to), but so that she knows that my strength, skill, and time are there for her."
This right here!!
This is one character trait that shows you will make a hospitable husband. Congratulations on your engagement!
This is such an excellent example, thank you! I most appreciated how caring (whether physically or practically/conscientiously) was sometimes inconvenient for you - in my own life, whether caring for grandparents, children, or friends, I don’t see a lot of contemporary examples of caring being inconvenient yet worthy, but I often find it inconvenient. There’s the saints, who I think can be great examples as well as intercessors, but the dominant message seems to be “here are all the reasons why you shouldn’t actually have to care.” I think it both deters us as a society from more caregiving (and through those experiences, developing the habits and virtues that can make shouldering burdens tolerable) and leaves us without healthy ways of processing emotions when we ultimately have to do caregiving.
It definitely is, but that's also a lot of what makes it worthwhile, in retrospect. As a grad student, relatively unburdened by the obligations of a family or a romantic relationship, it was extremely easy to be self-centered—all I had to do was attend class, study, do research, and make sure my proclivity for fast food didn't outstrip my stipend. I could otherwise focus on what I wanted to do, how I wanted to spend my time, who I wanted to talk to, etc. And since my grandmother doesn't tend to ask for help, it was very easy to keep doing that even when I did have responsibilities to her. Over time, however, I eventually realized that living solely for myself was extremely unfulfilling, and that learning to care for others even at the cost of my own desires was the only way to grow. I'm still bad at it, but I'm learning.
A moment from my youth (I was a rising college sophomore, I think) that springs to mind occurred when I was a counselor at Shakespeare summer camp. We were having a midnight rehearsal in the immediate run-up to our performance of Julius Caesar. One of the girl campers, unfortunately, had a medical condition flare up and sort-of collapsed backstage. She was conscious but too weak to walk. We needed to get her from the theater to the camp nurse's office, and it seemed the quickest way to do this was to drape her over my back and have me carry her like a beast of burden. I recall thinking at the time, even though the situation was scary, that this was what it felt like to be a man. There was a real satisfaction in how clear it was that my strength and size was needed, even essential, in that moment. Everything all worked out okay. As I've recalled the incident since then it feels to me less like a crisis and more like a milestone.
So interesting to find out how men feel about women being weaker than themselves. I’d always assumed they must despise us a little bit for not being stronger.
I think that attitude can arise in situations where physical ability is wrongly equated with moral worth—in traditionally male pursuits and professions like contact sports, firefighting, and manual labor, physical strength is an important part of the job, and much of your value to your team or your coworker hinges on your ability to perform in that way. This in and of itself does not strike me as a bad thing. I think it gets disordered when the idea that "stronger = better" is applied as a general rule, and thus anyone who isn't physically strong is looked down upon. Rather than treating physical strength as a gift to be utilized for others, it treats it as a mark of superiority and a measure of worth in itself. I don't think that's valid reasoning, but I think it's easy to slip into when men aren't offered a better vision of masculinity.
I think it's important to note that there are very very few circumstances where simply more physical strength = better at your job. For firefighting and manual labor, there's a baseline of physical strength that is absolutely required, but there are myriad other strengths a person can develop that makes them a critical member of the team. Think of the firefighter who understands how structures collapse, or the laborer who can drive a forklift. Many women in these fields need to constantly prove that they belong there, above and beyond men whose physical strength has declined or who lack valuable experience and training.
A major feature of my teenage years in a Mormon ward in Columbus, Ohio was helping with moves. It was really great to feel useful. A move involves strength, but you realize quickly from watching adult men that some wisdom and experience goes a long way toward making the most of what your body can do. I was also seeing a lot of different economic and social experiences. That was really useful.
I also remember doing some group service projects where we'd do yard work or cleaning for seniors. Those tended to have less direct interaction with the people we were helping than a move, where they're constantly giving direction.
We would also regularly go on Sunday visits to homebound seniors to take them sacrament/communion or to pick up fast offerings. Those visits tended to involve more talking and social connection than physical engagement, but were still really useful for me in learning to use my attention as a gift, a thing which could be consecrated.
I don't remember giving any medical or similar care service until I was an adult. I don't know why. Maybe it's because we culturally associate those tasks with greater discretion: helping move someone or wash them often involves a greater vulnerability for the receiver.
The young men of my college debate group all rallied to move me in one year when my mom had hurt her back right before college started, and it was a _huge_ help.
I have two boys, ages 8 and 9. They started doing taekwondo about a year ago. It’s great for many reasons, but one of the things I love about the culture of the school is that the black belts (mostly boys in their late teens) often help out during the classes for the younger kids (mostly elementary school age boys). It feels like a great example for my boys, and I’m excited for them to be able to take their turns helping the younger kids as they get older and more advanced in their training!
Male reader here! Another commenter mentioned helping with moves. This has been a great way for me to use my muscles to help other people. It's humbling also—when I help someone move, I'm just there to pick things up and carry them, and someone else makes the decisions.
My husband talks often and fondly of his time in college that he spent doing outreach work in the form of building construction, both internationally in Central America but also domestically with Habitat for Humanity. He describes how fulfilling it was to not just build with his hands, but to teach other college students (male and female) construction skills and build their confidence in their own strength and abilities. Especially for the young women, he got a kick out of giving them chainsaws and jackhammers, teaching them how to use them safely, then watching them revel in their own power.
Some of my most treasured memories of my grandparents include them leaning on me for support, and letting me help steady them or rise from a chair. And some of my favorite memories of service from when I was a kid were visiting nursing homes. Older generations have so much to offer young people, and creating more spaces for teens and older folks to lean on one another would be (and is!) a beautiful thing. I'm looking forward to my son, who has close relationships with my parents, providing support to them as they age, and also having the opportunity to visit and engage and assist community elders as well.
I do question that strength is a 'distinctive marker of men' as it seems to be applied here. Celebrating our interdependence and rejecting the callous ways our society flattens us into consumers is a worthy project - and one I don't think requires us to say X is 'womanly' and Y is 'manly'.
Everyone can be strong for their own particular frame, but there are a number of kinds of strength that are more common or easier for men to develop, simply because they are big. A man and woman might both press their own bodyweight, but that will usually leave the man able to lift someone bigger!
Boys know this, and they benefit a lot from having a _reason_ for their strength. And, of course, as a husband and wife have children, the woman will have repeated periods of enforced infirmity due to the specific needs of pregnancy and nursing etc., and it's good for the man to have practice *deliberately* offering his strength in defence of weakness.
I’m all for people recognizing their distinct skills and strengths and accompanying responsibilities in adolescence. But too often that gets flattened into ‘boys are strong and girls are nurturing’. And for boys who don’t have muscular physiques and girls who are ‘bossy’ that leads to ridicule and worse.
There’s a very short path from “men on average” to “be this or be less”. Giving boys and men enthusiastic permission to be fully human - caring, sad, joyful, whole - seems… well, a whole lot better. Not least because then they’ll see others, including women (hopefully), to be similarly fully human. Not a blank canvass future-wife, or others-wife, or others-future-wife.
"Too often that gets flattened into ‘boys are strong and girls are nurturing’. And for boys who don’t have muscular physiques and girls who are ‘bossy’ that leads to ridicule and worse."
This is a great point. I was a boy without a muscular physique growing up, and I totally agree that this sort of flattening can lead to ridicule. And as a man who's pretty nurturing, I definitely don't think women are the only ones who can be nurturing.
On the other hand, surely there's a non-flattened, nuanced perspective here that can acknowledge men's overall strength and women's overall ability to nurture without flattening anyone? Exceptions to average-sex-differences definitely exist, and in some ways and at many times I've been one of them. But when others have counted on my strength, it's been more fulfilling than I'd expect, as someone who never found much identity in physical strength. And as I watch my wife nurture our children, I find it takes me some effort to match the softness, tenderness, and empathy that comes very quickly to her.
I suppose I'm trying to say: It can be helpful to celebrate and find good uses for boy's/men's strength, and for girl's/women's ability to nurture - and to do that we don't need to consider women weak, or consider men unable to nurture, or dismiss those who are exceptions to the rule.
What do you think a world looks like where gender norms are maintained (or made more rigid) and we don't dismiss or ridicule exceptions? What role do gendered norms play in that world?
Real answer: Hard to summarize. Something like... holding male strength in high regard, while remaining nonjudgmental about its expression. E.g. my 2015 Tanzania visit showed me that one of my favorite activities, dancing, commonly seen as feminine in my circles, can be culturally seen as masculine and/or a show of strength. And similarly, holding female socioemotional sensitivity/thoughtfulness in high regard and providing it with a variety of healthy uses, without assuming it will be used to raise children or take care of a husband.
Also, giving girls and boys examples of how men and women can do anything, while also pointing out how men and women sometimes do the same thing differently & with different strengths, or sometimes choose to do different things. And then on top of that, refusing to be a jerk (and calling out jerks when they appear) when anyone has uncommon traits.
I'm describing a utopia, so it'll never come true, obviously. But I think American culture is uniquely navel-gaze-y, causing us to swing wildly from overemphasizing sex differences to pretending they don't exist. I think somewhere in the middle we can nonchalantly acknowledge gender difference while finding room to celebrate individuals.
"I think somewhere in the middle we can nonchalantly acknowledge gender difference while finding room to celebrate individuals." I hope so too! And perhaps just as utopian, or more so, I think there is plenty of room in that middle that is also inclusive of trans folks.
To be precise, neither boys nor girls are very strong or nurturing, usually. Boys and girls are very similar.
It's at maturity, and after a lot of hormonal changes, that men tend to be stronger than the average person and mothers tend to be more nurturing than the average person.
Genuine question: what are the "distinctive markers of men"? Are there any?
I ask because I'm currently on the brink of fatherhood, and I feel like I've never gotten a really satisfying answer to this question (not only for fatherhood specifically, but for manhood in general). It seems there are two schools of thought: one makes the male stereotype normative; the other deconstructs this stereotype but fails to offer any positive vision beyond "be a good person." (These are caricatures, of course.)
In contrast, from my outsider's (i.e. male) perspective, the "distinctive markers of women" are a bit more apparent, at least with regards to parenthood. True, not all women bear children, but only women can. For those who do, fetomaternal microchimerism leaves a permanent mark of that distinctively *physical* intimacy of motherhood.
Now, maybe "What are the distinctive markers of women?" is just as hard to answer as my question above. But if you jettison all stereotypes, you at least have the exclusively physical aspects of motherhood (that is, aside from gamete production) to fall back on if you want to make the case that women do have "distinctive markers." Men, though? What do we have?
I generally see the conversation around 'distinctive markers of women/men' to be a distraction from the much more serious question of being a truly good person. I don't mean 'good person' in a vague sense, but in a more, 'what does it mean to act as a saint' sense.
As you enter fatherhood (congratulations!), you will have distinct (as in different from your partner's) opportunities. You will each have many choices to make about how you show up, and I'll bet you'll find yourself in many circumstances where traditional notions of what a father is or isn't will seem extra strange to you. I can't imagine what it would be like to be a father and hear from someone that it is not 'manly' or 'fatherly' to change a diaper, for instance.
Being a truly good person - and also a person who truly knows themselves - is a very big challenge for anyone of any gender. Which isn't to say you shouldn't turn to other father's to learn from their experience. I recommend Clint Edwards' writing in particular! But also, just because I've given birth, doesn't mean that Clint's writing doesn't have insight for me on being a better parent as well.
But men are, in fact, stronger, and women are, in fact, more nurturing. This isn’t to say a female powerlifter couldn’t pwn the proverbial 98-pound weakling, but if the problem is our society assuming that normal is normative, we don’t solve that by denying that normal things exist!
I’ve been sitting on the “best opportunities to use your strength” question all day and am realizing that until the past couple years, I was never relied on for my strength. It’s only in becoming a dad that physical strength has become a piece of my identity, and of what I have to offer. Partially because my wife lost much of her strength in pregnancy and birth, and partially because kids need an adult’s physical strength 937582 times a day.
But huh! How much I would have appreciated an outlet for my physical strength, even when I wasn’t as strong as my peers. I definitely had some serious insecurities growing up about my perceived lack of strength, which have only recently subsided
I come from a family of nurses and spent a year working in a nursing home as a teenager. It was an experience that certainly put life in perspective, and helped me serve in ways that, although they were uncomfortable for me then (such as bathing, dressing, changing,etc), were gratefully appreciated. In Switzerland there used to be a tradition for young teens (in particular Christians) of 'going into service' for a few months or a year, before starting an apprenticeship, either in a home as caregiver, orphanage, hotel, or similar setting. I appreciate your point about teen boys using their strength for others. Ours had been working on a farm last summer (which took a lot of physical exertion) , but I think connecting it with serving people is a helpful direction to explore. Thank you for writing!
I agree and disagree about babysitting. Most of our friends had kids before we did, and we occasionally babysat for them. I've noticed that people with kids often assume that people without kids just have tons of time, but that isn't always the case. We have a toddler and a baby right now, and I feel less busy than I did pre-kids -- possibly because I have a lot less space to commit to things, so I'm home more. But I do wish there was more of a culture of exchanging babysitting among friends.
But I do think that college age is a great time for babysitting. Our first babysitter/nanny was a 20-something grad student and she was wonderful. She could drive, she was responsible, she was available during business hours... My first year of marriage, in my early 20s, I did a lot of babysitting / homeschool tutoring, and it was great to see how different families did things and to gain some childcare skills.
I can't say I've ever been relied on for my personal physical strength; I've never been the big-and-strong sort. I didn't experience a burst of physical energy or aggressiveness during adolescence that I needed to blow off, and I (perhaps consequently) never really related to other male teenagers.
I have received the assumption that men should use their physical strength to assist (see James Goldberg's comment about moving people in LDS congregations -- a very common experience).
The times that I've been relied on have had more to do with a knack for administration and training than anything related to muscle -- and when the people I was assigned to help weren't abusive, those experiences tended to be very positive.
That said, it is immensely gratifying to make something physical, something that's primarily manifested in my life through art creation: whether drawing, painting, or sculpture.
It's not just intergenerational contact that's missing but also mid-generational contact. There are many twentysomethings in the world but (other than some family) none whom I trust with my daughter's diapers.
Small families hurt future families. Children should grow up surrounded by babies. A man whose only sister is three years younger simply won't grow up around changing diapers or breastfeeding, etc.
I don't think the solutions here are nearly radical enough. Atomized goods are never as wholesome and life-helping as complex goods. I would rather have running water at home, but we should admit that when we had the well, we had exercise, sunlight, socialization, and meaningful work which is now erased when we turn on the tap.
Any twentysomething babysitter's club is ultimately just another conscious, atomized good which replaces only part of what natural family relationships used to provide. So it is a good, but one of only one color.
I was thinking similarly. In my community are bigger families, including my own, and the boys are already doing these types of things. My teenage son is both an avid lifter (and so often gets voluntold to help move things for us and a number of elderly neighbors in addition to any sort of muscle type project that may need doing in the community) but also the sweetest guy with little kids. And he's not actually that unusual in most of the circles we run in, though he is an oddball at his public school.
Anyway, I think there's a blessing and advantage to being around other big families in community and social settings as well. Even kids from smaller families can benefit from the experience of having littles around and all the joys and exasperations they bring in normal life settings.
I have 3 teen boys, and I love the idea of providing space and support for teens to assist seniors.
For my sons (and daughters,) scouting has been a great way to give them a chance to be needed and to care for those who are weaker. There is the obvious element of service which many people are aware of, but more amazing and formative is the fact that each group is "youth led." Adults provide a lot of support and mentoring, but it is the youth who plan and execute the program. It is the job of the older teens to teach the newer scouts skills. I haven't seen any other space or organization expect so much from young people. This isn't a mission trip where they do something amazing a week or two over the summer. This is the week by week grind of trying help a group be cohesive, empowering each other to be their best, showing compassion and patience for their own and each others limitations, and learning to communicate clearly under stress. And they rise to the occasion!
I'm glad to hear it! My experience of Daisies and Brownies was mostly busywork (the boys got to learn first aid and knots; we went to bakery to decorate pre-baked cookies).
My first job ever was babysitting when I was in 6th grade, and I continued through all of high school. I never understood why boys never got to make all the cash I did. I always assumed it’s partly because parents communicate through their own family dynamics that looking after children is women’s work, and thus not something to expose boys to doing. Fathers may be more to blame for this by viewing childcare as a mommy job (with the exception of immediate internal family need, i.e. having the oldest child regardless of gender do temporary watching over younger siblings). I probably made a thousand dollars over the course of babysitting career. That’s a missed opportunity for boys to learn how independence, money management, and labor works, too! I was compensated for my work, because this was not something I was doing just out of the goodness of my heart. It was a lesson to not go uncompensated for my work and talent, i.e. “charity”, and in turn that watching after those in need of care was a valuable role in society. Emotional labor is labor, and childcare is labor.
There might also be more suspicion of young men around children than there is for young women in a way that makes parents of young children more comfortable with the latter as babysitters.
I grew up in a small, country church with many flaws. One of the bright spots was the regular call to action for the young men to assist in clean up after wind storms in our area. Fathers and older teenagers would grab their chain-saws. Younger boys gathered sticks and branches. Once the work was complete, we would all gather somewhere for a meal or at least a snack. Much of the work was done for seniors in our community; it would have cost them a fortune otherwise. Though I have left much of that world behind, I still make it a practice to contact my priest and offer my chainsaw after a storm.
Recently I've come across the concept of the "American mono-myth", advanced by a pair of scholars in the 1970s as an answer to Joseph Campbell's "classic mono-myth" about the hero's journey. If you'll zoom out with me from teens and elders and consider the macro stories we tell ourselves in our society, I think there's some interesting alignment with the questions you pose.
Campbell suggests that a hero sets out from within an everyday world to have a supernatural journey, win a victory, and bring back something of value to their community. But the American scholars suggest that a uniquely *American* hero is an outsider, a lone wolf, who approaches a paradise-like community to offer a supernatural assist that the group was not able to effect on their own, and then may not even stay to enjoy the benefits of the rescue or redemption that restores the group's edenic equilibrium.
What I'm seeing in the Campbell version is the underlying assumption of interdependence-- of commitment, care, improvement, investment, in one's own people and place. And those certainly seem like the values centered here at Other Feminisms. But what if our American-hero mythology is offering another pattern entirely for what a young person, a hero, a helper, is supposed to do with their strength? Swoop in, defeat the Joker, expose the matrix, rally the deputy and outshoot the bandits, and ride off into the sunset?
I'm trying to tease out the idea that a gift of strength can be given in more than one way. Do we encourage ourselves and our young people to lend our gifts, our muscle, our presence, such that we deepen the mutuality we share, or hope to share? Or is it external, circumstantial-- still effective, still useful, yet held at a distance that extols the lone individual and leaves the heart of the hero detached from the community he serves?
Does a gift of strength change when its intent and result are care... mutual improvement... reliability? as opposed to the anonymous might of the selfless superhero who vanishes at the end of the comic book? I won't argue that one is categorically better than the other, but I'm curious about the difference.
Re “I'm trying to tease out the idea that a gift of strength can be given in more than one way. . . . I won't argue that one is categorically better than the other, but I'm curious about the difference.” -- This has been such a good question to ponder. A couple thoughts that are coming up for me (after getting out of the way the negatives of both kinds that I mentioned in my other comment!)
1) Each type of giving is a different discipline, if you will. Sometimes it’s harder to bring back something of value to the community and to share it within the strictures of a community that has know you through your unheroic times (as Jesus experienced at Nazareth where the townspeople dismissed him as Joseph-and-Mary’s kid). Sometimes the discipline is of giving our strength when we’re not going to benefit from it in the long run. Each of these demands of us (and creates in us) a unique kind of strength and generosity.
2) The first leads me to think that perhaps each of us real-life humans is called to be both at different times throughout our lives. At the most basic, I think of how the Epistle-writers talked so much about showing radical love to the members of their faith-community (nowhere more radical than Paul’s call to the Corinthian believer’s to focus more on loving than on being the cool cats with the cool gifts). And also how the Epistle-writers continued the Old Testament themes of showing hospitality to the strangers who passed through their lives. I suspect that regardless of the mono-myth that rules our conceptions of our lives and community, we all end up with the chance to be both.
And now I'm put in mind of three TV favorites around our house lately-- The Mandalorian, Ted Lasso, and yes, Bluey, lol-- which each offer their own version of a male nurturing archetype. Each of these parents or alloparents or assistants is offering a particular spin on how both the tenderness and physicality of masculinity are involved in guiding the younger ones in their care, or defending and building up the weaker ones in their community.
Mmm. I’ve noticed that, too, with Bluey (am only lightly familiar with Ted Lasso and can see that one, too, I think). It’s been so refreshing to see fully-engaged fatherhood modeled like this!
Katie, you’ve given me much to ponder here. I’d not heard before of the American hero’s journey, but definitely see it as a clear mono-myth now that you’ve explained it! Wow.
Honestly, I’ve been finding it a bit difficult to separate the lone-wolf mono-myth from the damage I know it’s done in our society at large: I can see how we’ve developed some unhealthy beliefs/expectations of what we can and can’t rely on our heroes for, as well as an expectation of heroic detachment that can become a heavy burden to bear and even lead to burnout.
The example that came immediately to mind while I was reading your comment was the Frosty the Snowman sequel (made in the 80s I think) -- Frosty helps save the town but refuses to stay at the end; my dad pointed out that the reasons he gives for leaving sounded just like a dad leaving his kids to move on to a different life. I actually find it really hard to watch bcs of that strong connection. Of course, other stories have come to mind since then, ones that I find much more heroic and less problematic -- The Magnificent Seven, of course. Also the Star Treks, the murder mystery genre, and medical drama genres are strong with this one. I’m going to have to ponder these last ones more, though, because inevitably the story ends up focusing on the community that the helpers belong in, a community which takes center stage while the people being helped cycle through. Hm.
I’m glad that you specifically asked us to look at the two mono-myths as equal, not better or worse than each other. It’s helped me remember that the Campbell mono-myth would foster its own unhealthy beliefs, things that would possibly be easier to see were I in a society that favored that particular archetypal hero. I think I can see hints of them in both of Disney’s Mulan movies, as the strict expectations of community make difficult for heroes to rise past their proscribed community roles. I think that this tension underlies many coming of age stories in post-50s American literature. [Also, it’s interesting to compare the Batman tv show my dad grew up with -- where Batman was much more a part of the community and submitting to community norms like using crosswalks and not running red lights -- and the Batman of my childhood who is very much more a loner.]
Easily the best example of using my strength for others that comes to mind is living with my grandmother during my first year and a half of grad school. As this also overlapped with the first year of covid, this gave me multiple responsibilities: mowing the lawn, shoveling snow, and helping move furniture were obvious things, but so was being the one to get groceries or pick up prescriptions during the lockdown. Spending time together was also important, often just through watching British detective shows or Jeopardy together (RIP Alex Trebek). Even after I moved out, we still went for dinner weekly until I moved to a new job last year. At the same time, I also came face-to-face with the difficulty of my own laziness and tendencies towards selfishness—was it worth sleeping in or going to a restaurant with friends if it meant that she might mow the lawn herself or get sick because I brought covid home? (The latter never happened, thankfully, but the former did.) My grandmother is an independent, stubborn, capable woman, and it was not an uncommon experience to come visit and find that she had moved a couch down to her basement all by herself, or to drive over (after I moved out) to shovel the driveway and find her out there, driveway shoveled, smirking and acting as though nothing was out of the ordinary. This slowly impressed on me the need to be less self-centered and more proactive in meeting the needs of others. This is still a work in progress, but as I've become engaged to a young woman who is similarly stubborn, extremely competent, and unwilling to ask for help for fear of being a burden, I've had to learn to anticipate her needs and offer my strength before it's requested—not so that I can do everything for her and fix all her problems (I can't, and she wouldn't want me to), but so that she knows that my strength, skill, and time are there for her.
"I've had to learn to anticipate her needs and offer my strength before it's requested—not so that I can do everything for her and fix all her problems (I can't, and she wouldn't want me to), but so that she knows that my strength, skill, and time are there for her."
This right here!!
This is one character trait that shows you will make a hospitable husband. Congratulations on your engagement!
This is such an excellent example, thank you! I most appreciated how caring (whether physically or practically/conscientiously) was sometimes inconvenient for you - in my own life, whether caring for grandparents, children, or friends, I don’t see a lot of contemporary examples of caring being inconvenient yet worthy, but I often find it inconvenient. There’s the saints, who I think can be great examples as well as intercessors, but the dominant message seems to be “here are all the reasons why you shouldn’t actually have to care.” I think it both deters us as a society from more caregiving (and through those experiences, developing the habits and virtues that can make shouldering burdens tolerable) and leaves us without healthy ways of processing emotions when we ultimately have to do caregiving.
It definitely is, but that's also a lot of what makes it worthwhile, in retrospect. As a grad student, relatively unburdened by the obligations of a family or a romantic relationship, it was extremely easy to be self-centered—all I had to do was attend class, study, do research, and make sure my proclivity for fast food didn't outstrip my stipend. I could otherwise focus on what I wanted to do, how I wanted to spend my time, who I wanted to talk to, etc. And since my grandmother doesn't tend to ask for help, it was very easy to keep doing that even when I did have responsibilities to her. Over time, however, I eventually realized that living solely for myself was extremely unfulfilling, and that learning to care for others even at the cost of my own desires was the only way to grow. I'm still bad at it, but I'm learning.
A moment from my youth (I was a rising college sophomore, I think) that springs to mind occurred when I was a counselor at Shakespeare summer camp. We were having a midnight rehearsal in the immediate run-up to our performance of Julius Caesar. One of the girl campers, unfortunately, had a medical condition flare up and sort-of collapsed backstage. She was conscious but too weak to walk. We needed to get her from the theater to the camp nurse's office, and it seemed the quickest way to do this was to drape her over my back and have me carry her like a beast of burden. I recall thinking at the time, even though the situation was scary, that this was what it felt like to be a man. There was a real satisfaction in how clear it was that my strength and size was needed, even essential, in that moment. Everything all worked out okay. As I've recalled the incident since then it feels to me less like a crisis and more like a milestone.
So interesting to find out how men feel about women being weaker than themselves. I’d always assumed they must despise us a little bit for not being stronger.
I think that attitude can arise in situations where physical ability is wrongly equated with moral worth—in traditionally male pursuits and professions like contact sports, firefighting, and manual labor, physical strength is an important part of the job, and much of your value to your team or your coworker hinges on your ability to perform in that way. This in and of itself does not strike me as a bad thing. I think it gets disordered when the idea that "stronger = better" is applied as a general rule, and thus anyone who isn't physically strong is looked down upon. Rather than treating physical strength as a gift to be utilized for others, it treats it as a mark of superiority and a measure of worth in itself. I don't think that's valid reasoning, but I think it's easy to slip into when men aren't offered a better vision of masculinity.
I think it's important to note that there are very very few circumstances where simply more physical strength = better at your job. For firefighting and manual labor, there's a baseline of physical strength that is absolutely required, but there are myriad other strengths a person can develop that makes them a critical member of the team. Think of the firefighter who understands how structures collapse, or the laborer who can drive a forklift. Many women in these fields need to constantly prove that they belong there, above and beyond men whose physical strength has declined or who lack valuable experience and training.
That's also a good point, which I hadn't considered.
Really appreciate these thoughts.
A major feature of my teenage years in a Mormon ward in Columbus, Ohio was helping with moves. It was really great to feel useful. A move involves strength, but you realize quickly from watching adult men that some wisdom and experience goes a long way toward making the most of what your body can do. I was also seeing a lot of different economic and social experiences. That was really useful.
I also remember doing some group service projects where we'd do yard work or cleaning for seniors. Those tended to have less direct interaction with the people we were helping than a move, where they're constantly giving direction.
We would also regularly go on Sunday visits to homebound seniors to take them sacrament/communion or to pick up fast offerings. Those visits tended to involve more talking and social connection than physical engagement, but were still really useful for me in learning to use my attention as a gift, a thing which could be consecrated.
I don't remember giving any medical or similar care service until I was an adult. I don't know why. Maybe it's because we culturally associate those tasks with greater discretion: helping move someone or wash them often involves a greater vulnerability for the receiver.
The young men of my college debate group all rallied to move me in one year when my mom had hurt her back right before college started, and it was a _huge_ help.
Echoing your "helping with moves" sentiment!
I have two boys, ages 8 and 9. They started doing taekwondo about a year ago. It’s great for many reasons, but one of the things I love about the culture of the school is that the black belts (mostly boys in their late teens) often help out during the classes for the younger kids (mostly elementary school age boys). It feels like a great example for my boys, and I’m excited for them to be able to take their turns helping the younger kids as they get older and more advanced in their training!
Male reader here! Another commenter mentioned helping with moves. This has been a great way for me to use my muscles to help other people. It's humbling also—when I help someone move, I'm just there to pick things up and carry them, and someone else makes the decisions.
My husband talks often and fondly of his time in college that he spent doing outreach work in the form of building construction, both internationally in Central America but also domestically with Habitat for Humanity. He describes how fulfilling it was to not just build with his hands, but to teach other college students (male and female) construction skills and build their confidence in their own strength and abilities. Especially for the young women, he got a kick out of giving them chainsaws and jackhammers, teaching them how to use them safely, then watching them revel in their own power.
Some of my most treasured memories of my grandparents include them leaning on me for support, and letting me help steady them or rise from a chair. And some of my favorite memories of service from when I was a kid were visiting nursing homes. Older generations have so much to offer young people, and creating more spaces for teens and older folks to lean on one another would be (and is!) a beautiful thing. I'm looking forward to my son, who has close relationships with my parents, providing support to them as they age, and also having the opportunity to visit and engage and assist community elders as well.
I do question that strength is a 'distinctive marker of men' as it seems to be applied here. Celebrating our interdependence and rejecting the callous ways our society flattens us into consumers is a worthy project - and one I don't think requires us to say X is 'womanly' and Y is 'manly'.
Everyone can be strong for their own particular frame, but there are a number of kinds of strength that are more common or easier for men to develop, simply because they are big. A man and woman might both press their own bodyweight, but that will usually leave the man able to lift someone bigger!
Boys know this, and they benefit a lot from having a _reason_ for their strength. And, of course, as a husband and wife have children, the woman will have repeated periods of enforced infirmity due to the specific needs of pregnancy and nursing etc., and it's good for the man to have practice *deliberately* offering his strength in defence of weakness.
I’m all for people recognizing their distinct skills and strengths and accompanying responsibilities in adolescence. But too often that gets flattened into ‘boys are strong and girls are nurturing’. And for boys who don’t have muscular physiques and girls who are ‘bossy’ that leads to ridicule and worse.
There’s a very short path from “men on average” to “be this or be less”. Giving boys and men enthusiastic permission to be fully human - caring, sad, joyful, whole - seems… well, a whole lot better. Not least because then they’ll see others, including women (hopefully), to be similarly fully human. Not a blank canvass future-wife, or others-wife, or others-future-wife.
"Too often that gets flattened into ‘boys are strong and girls are nurturing’. And for boys who don’t have muscular physiques and girls who are ‘bossy’ that leads to ridicule and worse."
This is a great point. I was a boy without a muscular physique growing up, and I totally agree that this sort of flattening can lead to ridicule. And as a man who's pretty nurturing, I definitely don't think women are the only ones who can be nurturing.
On the other hand, surely there's a non-flattened, nuanced perspective here that can acknowledge men's overall strength and women's overall ability to nurture without flattening anyone? Exceptions to average-sex-differences definitely exist, and in some ways and at many times I've been one of them. But when others have counted on my strength, it's been more fulfilling than I'd expect, as someone who never found much identity in physical strength. And as I watch my wife nurture our children, I find it takes me some effort to match the softness, tenderness, and empathy that comes very quickly to her.
I suppose I'm trying to say: It can be helpful to celebrate and find good uses for boy's/men's strength, and for girl's/women's ability to nurture - and to do that we don't need to consider women weak, or consider men unable to nurture, or dismiss those who are exceptions to the rule.
What do you think a world looks like where gender norms are maintained (or made more rigid) and we don't dismiss or ridicule exceptions? What role do gendered norms play in that world?
Joke answer: the 90s
Real answer: Hard to summarize. Something like... holding male strength in high regard, while remaining nonjudgmental about its expression. E.g. my 2015 Tanzania visit showed me that one of my favorite activities, dancing, commonly seen as feminine in my circles, can be culturally seen as masculine and/or a show of strength. And similarly, holding female socioemotional sensitivity/thoughtfulness in high regard and providing it with a variety of healthy uses, without assuming it will be used to raise children or take care of a husband.
Also, giving girls and boys examples of how men and women can do anything, while also pointing out how men and women sometimes do the same thing differently & with different strengths, or sometimes choose to do different things. And then on top of that, refusing to be a jerk (and calling out jerks when they appear) when anyone has uncommon traits.
I'm describing a utopia, so it'll never come true, obviously. But I think American culture is uniquely navel-gaze-y, causing us to swing wildly from overemphasizing sex differences to pretending they don't exist. I think somewhere in the middle we can nonchalantly acknowledge gender difference while finding room to celebrate individuals.
"I think somewhere in the middle we can nonchalantly acknowledge gender difference while finding room to celebrate individuals." I hope so too! And perhaps just as utopian, or more so, I think there is plenty of room in that middle that is also inclusive of trans folks.
To be precise, neither boys nor girls are very strong or nurturing, usually. Boys and girls are very similar.
It's at maturity, and after a lot of hormonal changes, that men tend to be stronger than the average person and mothers tend to be more nurturing than the average person.
Genuine question: what are the "distinctive markers of men"? Are there any?
I ask because I'm currently on the brink of fatherhood, and I feel like I've never gotten a really satisfying answer to this question (not only for fatherhood specifically, but for manhood in general). It seems there are two schools of thought: one makes the male stereotype normative; the other deconstructs this stereotype but fails to offer any positive vision beyond "be a good person." (These are caricatures, of course.)
In contrast, from my outsider's (i.e. male) perspective, the "distinctive markers of women" are a bit more apparent, at least with regards to parenthood. True, not all women bear children, but only women can. For those who do, fetomaternal microchimerism leaves a permanent mark of that distinctively *physical* intimacy of motherhood.
Now, maybe "What are the distinctive markers of women?" is just as hard to answer as my question above. But if you jettison all stereotypes, you at least have the exclusively physical aspects of motherhood (that is, aside from gamete production) to fall back on if you want to make the case that women do have "distinctive markers." Men, though? What do we have?
I generally see the conversation around 'distinctive markers of women/men' to be a distraction from the much more serious question of being a truly good person. I don't mean 'good person' in a vague sense, but in a more, 'what does it mean to act as a saint' sense.
As you enter fatherhood (congratulations!), you will have distinct (as in different from your partner's) opportunities. You will each have many choices to make about how you show up, and I'll bet you'll find yourself in many circumstances where traditional notions of what a father is or isn't will seem extra strange to you. I can't imagine what it would be like to be a father and hear from someone that it is not 'manly' or 'fatherly' to change a diaper, for instance.
Being a truly good person - and also a person who truly knows themselves - is a very big challenge for anyone of any gender. Which isn't to say you shouldn't turn to other father's to learn from their experience. I recommend Clint Edwards' writing in particular! But also, just because I've given birth, doesn't mean that Clint's writing doesn't have insight for me on being a better parent as well.
But men are, in fact, stronger, and women are, in fact, more nurturing. This isn’t to say a female powerlifter couldn’t pwn the proverbial 98-pound weakling, but if the problem is our society assuming that normal is normative, we don’t solve that by denying that normal things exist!
I’ve been sitting on the “best opportunities to use your strength” question all day and am realizing that until the past couple years, I was never relied on for my strength. It’s only in becoming a dad that physical strength has become a piece of my identity, and of what I have to offer. Partially because my wife lost much of her strength in pregnancy and birth, and partially because kids need an adult’s physical strength 937582 times a day.
But huh! How much I would have appreciated an outlet for my physical strength, even when I wasn’t as strong as my peers. I definitely had some serious insecurities growing up about my perceived lack of strength, which have only recently subsided
I come from a family of nurses and spent a year working in a nursing home as a teenager. It was an experience that certainly put life in perspective, and helped me serve in ways that, although they were uncomfortable for me then (such as bathing, dressing, changing,etc), were gratefully appreciated. In Switzerland there used to be a tradition for young teens (in particular Christians) of 'going into service' for a few months or a year, before starting an apprenticeship, either in a home as caregiver, orphanage, hotel, or similar setting. I appreciate your point about teen boys using their strength for others. Ours had been working on a farm last summer (which took a lot of physical exertion) , but I think connecting it with serving people is a helpful direction to explore. Thank you for writing!
I agree and disagree about babysitting. Most of our friends had kids before we did, and we occasionally babysat for them. I've noticed that people with kids often assume that people without kids just have tons of time, but that isn't always the case. We have a toddler and a baby right now, and I feel less busy than I did pre-kids -- possibly because I have a lot less space to commit to things, so I'm home more. But I do wish there was more of a culture of exchanging babysitting among friends.
But I do think that college age is a great time for babysitting. Our first babysitter/nanny was a 20-something grad student and she was wonderful. She could drive, she was responsible, she was available during business hours... My first year of marriage, in my early 20s, I did a lot of babysitting / homeschool tutoring, and it was great to see how different families did things and to gain some childcare skills.
I can't say I've ever been relied on for my personal physical strength; I've never been the big-and-strong sort. I didn't experience a burst of physical energy or aggressiveness during adolescence that I needed to blow off, and I (perhaps consequently) never really related to other male teenagers.
I have received the assumption that men should use their physical strength to assist (see James Goldberg's comment about moving people in LDS congregations -- a very common experience).
The times that I've been relied on have had more to do with a knack for administration and training than anything related to muscle -- and when the people I was assigned to help weren't abusive, those experiences tended to be very positive.
That said, it is immensely gratifying to make something physical, something that's primarily manifested in my life through art creation: whether drawing, painting, or sculpture.
It's not just intergenerational contact that's missing but also mid-generational contact. There are many twentysomethings in the world but (other than some family) none whom I trust with my daughter's diapers.
Small families hurt future families. Children should grow up surrounded by babies. A man whose only sister is three years younger simply won't grow up around changing diapers or breastfeeding, etc.
I don't think the solutions here are nearly radical enough. Atomized goods are never as wholesome and life-helping as complex goods. I would rather have running water at home, but we should admit that when we had the well, we had exercise, sunlight, socialization, and meaningful work which is now erased when we turn on the tap.
Any twentysomething babysitter's club is ultimately just another conscious, atomized good which replaces only part of what natural family relationships used to provide. So it is a good, but one of only one color.
I was thinking similarly. In my community are bigger families, including my own, and the boys are already doing these types of things. My teenage son is both an avid lifter (and so often gets voluntold to help move things for us and a number of elderly neighbors in addition to any sort of muscle type project that may need doing in the community) but also the sweetest guy with little kids. And he's not actually that unusual in most of the circles we run in, though he is an oddball at his public school.
Anyway, I think there's a blessing and advantage to being around other big families in community and social settings as well. Even kids from smaller families can benefit from the experience of having littles around and all the joys and exasperations they bring in normal life settings.
Leah, have you seen the New Polity YouTube series on femininity? It has a deep dive into Judith Butler but gets good with its Ivan Ilyich portion.
I have 3 teen boys, and I love the idea of providing space and support for teens to assist seniors.
For my sons (and daughters,) scouting has been a great way to give them a chance to be needed and to care for those who are weaker. There is the obvious element of service which many people are aware of, but more amazing and formative is the fact that each group is "youth led." Adults provide a lot of support and mentoring, but it is the youth who plan and execute the program. It is the job of the older teens to teach the newer scouts skills. I haven't seen any other space or organization expect so much from young people. This isn't a mission trip where they do something amazing a week or two over the summer. This is the week by week grind of trying help a group be cohesive, empowering each other to be their best, showing compassion and patience for their own and each others limitations, and learning to communicate clearly under stress. And they rise to the occasion!
I'm glad to hear it! My experience of Daisies and Brownies was mostly busywork (the boys got to learn first aid and knots; we went to bakery to decorate pre-baked cookies).
My first job ever was babysitting when I was in 6th grade, and I continued through all of high school. I never understood why boys never got to make all the cash I did. I always assumed it’s partly because parents communicate through their own family dynamics that looking after children is women’s work, and thus not something to expose boys to doing. Fathers may be more to blame for this by viewing childcare as a mommy job (with the exception of immediate internal family need, i.e. having the oldest child regardless of gender do temporary watching over younger siblings). I probably made a thousand dollars over the course of babysitting career. That’s a missed opportunity for boys to learn how independence, money management, and labor works, too! I was compensated for my work, because this was not something I was doing just out of the goodness of my heart. It was a lesson to not go uncompensated for my work and talent, i.e. “charity”, and in turn that watching after those in need of care was a valuable role in society. Emotional labor is labor, and childcare is labor.
There might also be more suspicion of young men around children than there is for young women in a way that makes parents of young children more comfortable with the latter as babysitters.
I grew up in a small, country church with many flaws. One of the bright spots was the regular call to action for the young men to assist in clean up after wind storms in our area. Fathers and older teenagers would grab their chain-saws. Younger boys gathered sticks and branches. Once the work was complete, we would all gather somewhere for a meal or at least a snack. Much of the work was done for seniors in our community; it would have cost them a fortune otherwise. Though I have left much of that world behind, I still make it a practice to contact my priest and offer my chainsaw after a storm.
Recently I've come across the concept of the "American mono-myth", advanced by a pair of scholars in the 1970s as an answer to Joseph Campbell's "classic mono-myth" about the hero's journey. If you'll zoom out with me from teens and elders and consider the macro stories we tell ourselves in our society, I think there's some interesting alignment with the questions you pose.
Campbell suggests that a hero sets out from within an everyday world to have a supernatural journey, win a victory, and bring back something of value to their community. But the American scholars suggest that a uniquely *American* hero is an outsider, a lone wolf, who approaches a paradise-like community to offer a supernatural assist that the group was not able to effect on their own, and then may not even stay to enjoy the benefits of the rescue or redemption that restores the group's edenic equilibrium.
What I'm seeing in the Campbell version is the underlying assumption of interdependence-- of commitment, care, improvement, investment, in one's own people and place. And those certainly seem like the values centered here at Other Feminisms. But what if our American-hero mythology is offering another pattern entirely for what a young person, a hero, a helper, is supposed to do with their strength? Swoop in, defeat the Joker, expose the matrix, rally the deputy and outshoot the bandits, and ride off into the sunset?
I'm trying to tease out the idea that a gift of strength can be given in more than one way. Do we encourage ourselves and our young people to lend our gifts, our muscle, our presence, such that we deepen the mutuality we share, or hope to share? Or is it external, circumstantial-- still effective, still useful, yet held at a distance that extols the lone individual and leaves the heart of the hero detached from the community he serves?
Does a gift of strength change when its intent and result are care... mutual improvement... reliability? as opposed to the anonymous might of the selfless superhero who vanishes at the end of the comic book? I won't argue that one is categorically better than the other, but I'm curious about the difference.
Re “I'm trying to tease out the idea that a gift of strength can be given in more than one way. . . . I won't argue that one is categorically better than the other, but I'm curious about the difference.” -- This has been such a good question to ponder. A couple thoughts that are coming up for me (after getting out of the way the negatives of both kinds that I mentioned in my other comment!)
1) Each type of giving is a different discipline, if you will. Sometimes it’s harder to bring back something of value to the community and to share it within the strictures of a community that has know you through your unheroic times (as Jesus experienced at Nazareth where the townspeople dismissed him as Joseph-and-Mary’s kid). Sometimes the discipline is of giving our strength when we’re not going to benefit from it in the long run. Each of these demands of us (and creates in us) a unique kind of strength and generosity.
2) The first leads me to think that perhaps each of us real-life humans is called to be both at different times throughout our lives. At the most basic, I think of how the Epistle-writers talked so much about showing radical love to the members of their faith-community (nowhere more radical than Paul’s call to the Corinthian believer’s to focus more on loving than on being the cool cats with the cool gifts). And also how the Epistle-writers continued the Old Testament themes of showing hospitality to the strangers who passed through their lives. I suspect that regardless of the mono-myth that rules our conceptions of our lives and community, we all end up with the chance to be both.
And now I'm put in mind of three TV favorites around our house lately-- The Mandalorian, Ted Lasso, and yes, Bluey, lol-- which each offer their own version of a male nurturing archetype. Each of these parents or alloparents or assistants is offering a particular spin on how both the tenderness and physicality of masculinity are involved in guiding the younger ones in their care, or defending and building up the weaker ones in their community.
Mmm. I’ve noticed that, too, with Bluey (am only lightly familiar with Ted Lasso and can see that one, too, I think). It’s been so refreshing to see fully-engaged fatherhood modeled like this!
Katie, you’ve given me much to ponder here. I’d not heard before of the American hero’s journey, but definitely see it as a clear mono-myth now that you’ve explained it! Wow.
Honestly, I’ve been finding it a bit difficult to separate the lone-wolf mono-myth from the damage I know it’s done in our society at large: I can see how we’ve developed some unhealthy beliefs/expectations of what we can and can’t rely on our heroes for, as well as an expectation of heroic detachment that can become a heavy burden to bear and even lead to burnout.
The example that came immediately to mind while I was reading your comment was the Frosty the Snowman sequel (made in the 80s I think) -- Frosty helps save the town but refuses to stay at the end; my dad pointed out that the reasons he gives for leaving sounded just like a dad leaving his kids to move on to a different life. I actually find it really hard to watch bcs of that strong connection. Of course, other stories have come to mind since then, ones that I find much more heroic and less problematic -- The Magnificent Seven, of course. Also the Star Treks, the murder mystery genre, and medical drama genres are strong with this one. I’m going to have to ponder these last ones more, though, because inevitably the story ends up focusing on the community that the helpers belong in, a community which takes center stage while the people being helped cycle through. Hm.
I’m glad that you specifically asked us to look at the two mono-myths as equal, not better or worse than each other. It’s helped me remember that the Campbell mono-myth would foster its own unhealthy beliefs, things that would possibly be easier to see were I in a society that favored that particular archetypal hero. I think I can see hints of them in both of Disney’s Mulan movies, as the strict expectations of community make difficult for heroes to rise past their proscribed community roles. I think that this tension underlies many coming of age stories in post-50s American literature. [Also, it’s interesting to compare the Batman tv show my dad grew up with -- where Batman was much more a part of the community and submitting to community norms like using crosswalks and not running red lights -- and the Batman of my childhood who is very much more a loner.]