The menace of macho messaging

I AM not a man.

I trust that does not come as any great revelation to anyone, although I suppose you can’t take anything for granted these days.

But I do know quite a lot of them – and I’m rather fond of a few. My father is one. I have friends and colleagues who would count themselves among their number. I even married one.

So when I denounce the odious affliction that is ‘toxic masculinity’, I am not speaking from the position of a man-hater, despite what all the social media incels might claim when the faintest whiff of feminism entices them out from under their rocks (‘hi there!’).

Let’s be clear: being a man does not make you toxic and masculinity itself is not toxic.

According to the traditional stereotype, a man is meant to be strong, assertive, courageous, competitive, self-sufficient, a leader and a provider.

There is nothing inherently wrong with any of these traits, but they are not intended to be a rulebook for life.

When the concept of masculinity turns toxic is when it is taken to the extreme and societal pressures make people feel they must act tough, aggressive and domineering, while suppressing their natural feelings and hiding their vulnerabilities.

It is the idea that it’s acceptable to express anger and aggression but not kindness and compassion, to hurt others but never admit to being hurt.

It is the fallacy that ‘real men’ don’t cry, show fear, lose, or take no for an answer.

It can be harmful to others, but it is also a form of self-harm, since the need to suppress feelings and refusal to seek help can lead to mental health problems and even suicide.

Recent events in America perfectly highlight the perils of the toxic masculine mindset. The insurrectionists who stormed the Capitol last week were overwhelmingly, albeit not exclusively, male and white and itching for a fight. Their goal? To overturn the election result which saw their choice of presidential candidate lose by a significant margin. Why? Because rather than accept the disappointment of defeat, they preferred to believe the unfounded narrative that the election must have been rigged and that they could and should therefore overturn the results through mob violence.

Of course, this refusal to accept failure, or even reality, along with the need to blame and aggressively dominate others, can be traced directly back to their beloved leader, none other than the outgoing US president and unabashed king of toxic masculinity, Donald Trump.

When his Democratic rival, Joe Biden, was declared winner of the election back in November, Trump refused to concede, insisting he had actually won by a landslide and the election had been stolen from him, despite there being no credible evidence to back up his claims. No one who has followed American politics over the past few years was remotely surprised by that development and most dismissed it as they would the posturing of a petulant toddler.

But Trump’s macho messaging has always been lapped up by a hardcore of supporters. He embodies a sense of male entitlement which bolsters their own fragile masculinity and reinforces many of their own dubious views, which is why they are so unwavering in their loyalty, no matter what he says or does.

When the Access Hollywood tape came out, revealing him boasting about sexually assaulting women, it was dismissed as ‘locker room talk’ (and what could be more masculine than that?). When dozens of women accused him of sexual misconduct, he merely brushed them off as liars, so his supporters did too. When the media reported negative stories about him, he labelled it ‘fake news’, and his followers believed him. When he was impeached on charges of abuse of power and obstruction of Congress, he dismissed the allegations as ‘evil’ and ‘corrupt’ and the Republican-led Senate acquitted him.

It is hard to imagine any previous American president having managed to get away with quite so much. He famously once said: ‘I could stand in the middle of Fifth Avenue and shoot somebody and I wouldn’t lose any voters.’ But despite the loyalty of his base, his displays of extreme machismo, combined with his inept handling of the Covid-19 crisis, turned enough people off to prevent him from being re-elected for a second term. And the impact of that defeat on his fragile ego seems to have caused any lasting pretence at being a statesman-like leader to slowly melt away like an unconvincing mask to reveal a villainous persona of pantomime proportions lurking underneath.

The mask was well and truly off last week when, at a rally held shortly before the election certification, he instructed his followers to march to the Capitol, telling them ‘you have to show strength’ and ‘if you don’t fight like hell, you’re not going to have a country any more’. His message was clear and the crowd did indeed march to the Capitol, some armed with guns and bombs. Within hours, five people had died and more than 50 had been injured.

Now, just a week before his presidency comes to an end, Trump is facing the prospect of a second impeachment for inciting insurrection.

Like I said, toxic masculinity is dangerous.

Of course, Trump is far from the only world leader to suffer from the disorder – just look at the almost cartoonishly macho personas cultivated by Russian president Vladimir Putin and Brazilian president Jair Bolsonaro.

The problem is not restricted to politics, either, and often it is not the people themselves but their environments that are the cause of the toxicity.

For example, being aggressive, cut-throat and ruthless can still reap rewards in many workplaces, being seen as the traits of a leader, while showing emotion, empathy or vulnerability are seen as a weakness and can hold people back.

This therefore forces people to emphasise their masculine traits to compete and get ahead – and that applies to women too, perhaps even more so than men since they have to out-man the men around them in order to be considered for the top jobs.

Masculine traits are, of course, traditionally associated with men, hence the stereotype, but on an individual level it is perfectly possible, if uncommon, for a woman to be more ‘manly’ than a man, biological bits aside. Just think of masculinity and femininity as a sliding scale, with the manliest man at one end and the girliest girl at the other, and the majority of people falling somewhere between the two extremes, the lucky few who come out dead centre representing a perfect balance of masculine and feminine traits. (Side note: why do we say ‘girlie girl’ to denote extreme femininity rather than ‘womanly woman’? I’m open to suggestions, but my money’s on it being linked to the irritating infantilisation of femininity. Sigh.)

So toxic masculinity is not necessarily restricted to men. Britain’s first female prime minister, Margaret Thatcher, would not have managed to hold on to power for as long as she did without being even more ruthless and domineering than her male contemporaries.

Perhaps UK Home Secretary Priti Patel, who was accused last year of bullying behaviour, learned to act that way in order to progress within the male-dominated high-pressure political sphere?

But there’s no point in pretending that men are not the prime proponents of toxic masculinity, just as women are the prime proponents of toxic femininity (yes, it is a thing – look it up).

What can we do about it? Unfortunately, this is a virus without a simple vaccine. It would be a mistake to think that Trump and his supporters will simply fade away after Biden’s inauguration next week. In fact, their failure to get what they wanted will have likely left them feeling even more aggrieved and angry, making further violence almost certain.

What we need to do in the long term is remove the societal pressures, both real and imagined, that can cause masculinity to turn toxic in the first place.

Here in Guernsey, there are some initiatives that are working towards that aim: Male Uprising Guernsey’s Men’s Shed offers a constructive space for men, both literally and metaphorically, to talk about their issues without fear of judgement; Guernsey Mind launched a Stop Male Suicide campaign to raise awareness of the fact that men are a third more likely to take their own life than women, partly because they are less likely to seek help when they need it; and local filmmaker Gaz Papworth created an award-winning documentary, Man Down, to challenge the stereotype of ‘being a man’ and urge men to open up about their emotions and discuss their problems.

Author and mental health campaigner Matt Haig summed the situation up well in a tweet sent in response to events in America: ‘This election is reminding us how important it is to raise men who can lose, men who can take the hit and accept and flow forward. Rather than men who have to deny all emotions and reality under toxic illusions of strength, like crumbling colloseums [sic].’

It is our responsibility, as a society, to help stop this scourge.