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sleeplessinsiswati · 5 years

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Toxic Masculinity—A Contagious Kind of Pollution

Yeah, yeah, yeah. My bad, I know I’m late.

*grumble and murmuring*

My bad. Look, i said my bad.

*lower murmuring*

Look, in my defense, I had the post locked and loaded on the queue and then my internet went out. Boom. Now can we get on with what we came here for?

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As you may know about me, bell hooks is one of my favorite authors. She has inspired me, moment after moment and time after time, to grow and love myself and others more wholly and fully. In her writing she uses a combination of autobiographical, common-sensical language and academic, theoretical research to shed light to the various topics. Here, I will attempt to scratch at the masterpieces of her work, and use both theory and my experience to shed the light of truth concerning what I know about what the world has come to refer to as toxic masculinity.

Your story may be different than mine, but toxic masculinity is something that affects each and every one of us. Let me state again, masculinity is not the issue here; there is nothing wrong with “being a man” or being strong or having power. The issue comes in when notions or ideals of manhood force boys and men to be emotionally unavailable, makes us believe we are not enough as human beings, or encourages us to exploit and take advantage of others in an ultimate quest for power. There’s no way around the reality that this is no way to live, and there is the crux of the argument—living. Most of the things that we come to know and associate with being a “man” and “manhood” have to do with survival. Hunting, fishing, fighting, scanning a room and sizing people up, sports, fitness, taking a hit and not complaining, the list goes on and on. Most of these are guys grasping at straws, trying to get a piece, a bit more power than they had before, in order to survive. But this is not living.

This is why the first step to growth, and leading a healthier life absent of toxic masculinity, is reflection. You must look over your life, your experiences and genuinely ask are you living or are you surviving. Patriarchy, being a system where men and masculine energy dominate spaces of power or with power and women, children, and weaker men are seen as inferior and vessels willing to be dominated or controlled, makes us believe that survival is the ultimate resource and that there are constant, looming threats to us accomplishing this goal. Though at times this may be true, it is not always true, and if we walk through life always scanning rooms with balled up fists we doom ourselves to early graves filled with bitterness, emotions we’ve never experienced, and a life devoid of love. There is more to life than reliving childhood traumas day in and day out, but that more does not come without being able to reflect and to heal.

I don’t remember at what point in my childhood I started hating my dad; I know that it was not always that way. There’s a distinctly fond memory I have with him—wrestling my older brother and I, both of us no older than seven at the time, he pinned us down and stood on our chests saying, “ Who’s the man? Who’s the Man?” Gerald and I were half hysterical laughing, half having an asthma attack, and shouting, “ You’re the man! You’re the man!” He laughed saying, “ No, God’s the Man. Say, God’s the Man.” We giggle between gasps, “Okay, God’s the Man!” Mom came on to the scene from the back room of our duplex and looked at Dad with that look that only Black mommas can deliver; we were sorry that we got dad in trouble, but to this day I love that time in my life, I love that memory.

Perhaps it was the pressures of two lives, two similar personalities, and an age difference spanning over three decades that caused there to be so much friction between us; don’t ask me what the first argument was even about, because I couldn’t tell you. I think that it was the silence that ultimately led to it all. Questions not asked by a son out of fear, and questions left unanswered by a father unaware of the shadow his figure casted. What I do know is that early on in my adolescence I became disillusioned with childhood, with being looked down upon and thought to be foolish, and I know it had a lot to do with Dad and things he said, or how he said them. Something as simple as walking into the room that Gerald and I shared, looking around and making an expression, and finally looking at us and shaking his head was all Dad needed to do to express his disappointment. Honestly I appreciated the silent expressions a lot more than the verbal ones, which seemed to have a back-breakingly painful bite to them. Gerald grew to be calloused and joke about it, but I was raw to it; words more than belts and punishments are what would break my spirit. Around fifth grade I realized that love didn’t really matter, or at least it didn’t mean anything—I loved my dad and he kept smoking cigarettes even after my brother and I begged him to stop; I loved my mom but I couldn’t tell her what I felt about the world because she couldn’t protect me from it; I loved my brother but I felt he constantly belittled me, silenced me, and made me feel like I was stupid (I’m sure he took a few pages from Dad’s book, in this way); I loved myself, or I thought I did, and yet I constantly belittled myself, telling myself that in this world I would have to be stronger. Love could not change anything about life, it just made you feel like you couldn’t even more.

Eventually I gave in to this belief system—years passed and I graduated to full blown “I don’t give a fuck about anything”. I was afraid, powerless and with those tools as weapons I was ready for anything at any time because I felt I had nothing to lose; I felt I had lost so much of my soul already, it wouldn’t matter even if I lost my life. Hotheaded athlete, I knew how to mask my shrewd and heartless demeanor with cool, chauvinistic locker-room thuggery. I acted chill, I wanted to be chill, but in my mind, at any moment I was a shoulder bump away from a full blown “nigga moment”, as so accurately defined in The Boondocks. I was a ticking time bomb, an emotionally unavailable mess all throughout high school, and college was more the same with less of the guard rails.

But before we keep going forward, let’s go back. Black Baton Rouge has become well-known in modern society (before the Alton Sterling murder) for one reason in particular, as far as I am concerned, —Lil Boosie. Now, I’m not talking about “Zoom” or “Wipe Me Down” Lil Boosie, that’s mainstream Boosie. I’m talking “Set It Off”, “Murder Was the Case” Lil Boosie; Boosie that I met that one time at the Mall of Cortana and he said, “Wassup, lil niggas” Lil Boosie. That one. The Boosie BR natives knew growing up was trap before trap was cool. Street, gutta, whatever you want to call it, Black BR loved it and they had to have it. Hell the whole world came to love it, but Baton Rouge had to have it so much that they had to mimic it; kids, even, began to walk with certain swaggers, talking lingos picked up from lyrics. It was a damn masterpiece from a mastermind, and there was no escaping it. The problem though, is what this success for one man meant for many boys (like me and unlike me) growing up in that era. Is being a man being that kind of man? The kind of man in these songs? Why do these boys think less of me because I’m not a “man” like they think they are? Do they know they’re faking?

These were the type of thoughts that got me chin-checked on more than one occasion, questioning what someone saw as their manhood, or them thinking I was calling them soft. I was a huge fan of Dr. King in my younger days, nonviolence and all, but I made up in my mind after one good fight that Dr. King must have never been to Scotlandville, Baton Rouge, a day in his life, and that was that for nonviolence as a way of life in my mind. In a classic case of if-you-can’t-beat-them-join-them, I entered the wade pool of cool poses and posturizing. If a scrap came I didn’t think twice about it, and I was willing to take whatever bruises and lumps came with it from the school or the fight. Not like I was built or raise for all’lat, but didn’t seem like there was much other option.

Now let’s press play, back at the start of my university academic career. I had finally made it to the platform where I wanted to be—college freshman, class president, track team, chapel assistant, so on and so forth. And the shit felt as plastic as a maxed out credit card. The aggression, the fight that I had come to know and hate and love—for all its pain and all its suffering, I missed it; it was home, my home. Not much more than a self-righteous leader already, I quickly threw off the mask of who people wanted me to be as the smart, politically correct leader after freshman year, and allowed my passions to roam freely. I did what I wanted, when I wanted, for no reason other than I wanted to.

It wasn’t until I nearly lost my opportunities to continue my studies and was threatened with the potential for never finishing undergrad, that I sat down and contemplated what went wrong, and why. It was then that I had to take a journey through my mind, into my past and confront the decisions I made, the reasons I made them, and the consequences of those actions. It was here that I discovered and acknowledged the pain in my past. The memories of desperately wanting the approval of my father, and simultaneously being pained by not living up to his seemingly impossible expectations; Times where he seemed to be emotionally unavailable hurt me more than any belt whooping ever could; fleeting thoughts of being silenced or crying inconsolably from feelings of inferiority or brokenness. From these starting points I came to resent the presentation of manhood before me in my father, and the power that came with it, with hoping to one day overcome (or overpower) it by whatever means necessary. That bitterness spilled over into other systems of power and I came to resent almost all, if not all, forms of leadership. Being on the lower rungs of the power dynamic at home and the frustration that came with it did not get any better in the world beyond those four wals; I was short, readily referred to as “nappy-headed”, and emotionally vulnerable. The ego bruises and self-esteem damage I received from early on in my public school career led me to believe that I had to become someone powerful, or to have power, in order to not be disrespected. This belief would haunt me from the moment of its beginning up to this very day.

Once I realized this, and I was able to accept that for the vast majority of my life I had been living in my past burdened by unforgivness, that I had not been the person I really wanted to be, I began a journey of learning to become for the first time. It was exciting being able to unlearn ways in which I had limited my own humanity for fear of not being perceived as manly or displaying some form of power, but it has also been very painful at times. Admitting to yourself the damage that you have done to others, the damage you have done to yourself, and the damage that has been done to you is not easy. There are people who to this day I feel I owe apologies to, for things that I said or ways that I treated them, Black women in particular; for the sake of recovering acknowledgement I didn’t receive in my youth but desperately wanted, I took advantage emotionally of women who otherwise loved me, cared for me, and wanted to see the both of us to succeed. Some people, most people, are afraid to look into their pasts and examine the truth of their actions because they do not want to face that there may be consequences to their actions; even towards themselves there is unforgivness and bitterness. The truth is, without confronting our past we are bound by them and they have power over us. Only by being able to non-judgementally examine our actions, accept that they were wrong, and pay whatever toll to move forward, can we begin our journey of healing.

Even I was afraid to begin my journey of unlearning toxic masculinity thinking that I may be vulnerable to the world and it’s threats, but I have come to find my wife and best friend, a life of love and laughter and carefree living, and wholeness through this adventure of learning. Yes, I am now more likely to cry in public and yes I share my feelings more with others, but I now see that instead of living a life silencing parts of who I am and distorting other parts of me to seem more angry or more threatening than I feel, I can just…be.

And that, for me, is enough.

Pain is universal: we all experience it, feel it, and suffer. But the only thing equally as universal, and infinitely more powerful is the healing from that pain; that healing is love. I challenge you to ask what ways has toxic masculinity been a part of your life, and then challenge your self to live a more whole, more alive life. Only by ending this vicious cycle can we stop the pollution of toxic masculinity, and breathe the fresh air of self-acceptance, self-love, and truly show our love for others.

Peace.

#growth

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luriashrine · 6 years

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kabsks you’re gonna hate me bUT I KINDA WANNA KNOW THE ANSWERS TO ALL QUESTIONS FOR CELIA (and maybe Fai if u want!) except maybe number 5 bc i dunno if it fits, you decide!! INFO DUMP ME!!!!

NOW HOW CAN I HATE YOU FOR ALLOWING ME TO INFO DUMP AS MUCH AS I COULD?! Be prepared for some weird errors, I’m heading back out and I tried to finish this in the little time I have at the moment ;0;

1. What would completely break your character.

Here’s the sad thing, Celia is already broken. For a large part of her childhood to adolescent to late teenage years, she had to endure so much shit. It doesn’t help one bit that The Lich makes damn sure to live through her trauma each and every day during her training. For three long years, she had to witness her family dying over and over again just so that she can learn to desensitize herself (it’s best to think of her training in The Box as though she was trapped in a time loop with different outcomes depending on her choices or what The Lich wants to throw at her).

Aside from total failure in completing her end of the contract, nothing can break Celia but even that is debatable since some of her actions throughout ATEW suggests otherwise (there are times in the story where Celia tries to goad Adrian into killing her in order to stop but he seriously couldn’t in the beginning).

2. What was the best thing in your character’s life?

Her family, more importantly, Marcel and Remei. But they’re gone now and for a long while she had nothing she considered important. Until she finally opens up to Fai and later on Nessie. Seeing Phoebe’s kingdom come crumbling down would be another great thing in her life…

3. What was the worst thing in your character’s life?

Fai and Celia did not get off on the right foot. At first Fai thought that protecting a sociopathic brat like Celia was the worst thing ever, especially since she’s someone who is fine with getting her hands dirty which consequently means that she always jumps headfirst into danger(hRM DOESN’T THAT SOUND FAMILIAR YOU BUTT ADJNAKS seriously though, he does the same at times but to him when Celia did it was annoying). Eventually, through time they do bond and now the worst thing in Fai’s life is how much he’s in love with her despite knowing what will happen once she completes her contract.

Still… Celia’s recklessness and overconfidence in herself scare him nowadays…

4. What seemingly insignificant memories stuck with your character.

The first time she ever had paella after a kindly couple (Kyrie and Santiago) took her in for a couple of weeks… it’s extremely insignificant but the impact of the event meant so much to her and there are times where she could still taste the fluffy, sunny-colored rice and the multitude of spices after spending a couple of years in shitty orphanages eating moldy bread (bread that she would have to steal from other children due to food rations), watery soup and this bland grey mush that had the proper nutrients in it but very little substance to it. Kyrie had prepared that dish out on a whim one day, after he had fed her so many other wonderful dishes ever since he took her in but all of the flavoring in the paella stuck out the most to her. Much to her embarrassment, she cried after eating the dish. She wasn’t crying just because she was having good food but because for the first time in a long time she was eating dinner with a family once more and that revelation struck Celia so hard she was overwhelmed with emotion.

I wrote a drabble but for Fai, Celia showing Fai that sweet fairy poo. Her laugh was the most magical thing on the planet. SHE ALSO HAS THE CUTEST DIMPLES WHEN SHE LEGIT SMILES AND THAT DESTROYS HIM YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND!!

5. I’M SORRY, I REALLY TRIED BUT I CAN’T ANSWER!! CELIA’S JOB IS TO KILL AND SHE DOESN’T REALLY ENJOY KILLING ALL THAT MUCH, SURE SHE’S GROWN DEATTACHED AND HAS NO PROBLEM WITH IT BUT… YEAH!

6. what is your character reluctant to tell people.

Celia has a lot to hide which is understandable given her circumstances meanwhile Fai is too reluctant with telling anyone else that he’s in love with Celia this is mostly because Shadows aren’t really supposed to have any feelings and falling in love with a human is considered… strange to say the least.

7. How does your character feel about sex?

I’LL TRY TO BE A MATURE ADULT WITH TALKING ABOUT THIS BUT IDK I STILL FEEL WEIRD TALKING NSFW WITH MY OCS, not uncomfortable just jadksbldns. But anyway!!!

Celia and her very unabashed view, as well as the immense pleasure she takes in it, ties into a lot of things such as her self-worth as well as her nasty habit of smothering herself in more risky behaviors whenever she’s going through a mania episode since sex is just one of many self-destructive behaviors. On top of all those things, for a short time she had a slight fear of emotional attachment before meeting with Fai, having sex with no strings attached was ideal for Celia. This doesn’t mean that she’s thirsty.txt 24/7 just because she’s shameless and has sexual confidence, sex is not always on her mind… but she’s not one to say no to whoever offers to have sex with her either.

Fai on the other hand… he is very much a thot when it comes to his lovers. SO UH!!!

8. how many friends does your character have?

WEEPS!!!! I’ve said time and time again that Celia is a true neutral, she has a grey moral outlook with little to no regard for a lot of things since as rules and the like… however, so many people will regard her as cruel or even evil due to her many actions in both a meta sense and in the story sense as well. So, yeah… she doesn’t really have many friends because of this aspect of her and has tons of enemies. After she opens up to Fai she later does befriend Nessie and makes an attempt to at the very least try to bond with her resistance members since they are doing all of the heavy hard work and she appreciates their loyalty to her.

9. how many friends does your character want?

This is the question that upsets me the most. It’s a bit of a mixed bag here since there is a large part of Celia that years for companionship but because of all of the events she had to go through during ATEW (most of which she almost died in) she has a natural distrust of everyone and her paranoia convinces Celia that everyone is out to get her. She honest to god hates being alone with her thoughts since she has to relive her trauma. She prefers the company of others not only to satisfy her needs for social interaction and attention too but to distract from her mind.

10. What would your character make a scene in public about?

She doesn’t really like making scenes in public, Celia is someone who works in from the shadows of the slums first and foremost due to the many people who are out to get her whether they be human, spirits she’s upset or the gods there is a price for her head for all of the crime she’s committed. As such, she doesn’t really like making any scenes of any sorts but there is an extremely rare expectation to that face and that expectation is that if she’s feeling highly emotionally. Once again, this plays into her mania episodes of her manic depression and on top of that, years of just bottling away her trauma, anger and a plethora of many other emotions she tries to shut down through dissociation. After having an emotional breakdown she will feel pretty shitty with some sense of catharsis.

11. For what would your character give their life?

If losing her life has some value in completing whatever goals she has, then she would gladly give up her life for that sake with no hesitance. Later on, where Celia actually develops and makes a legit human connection with other people she would find that she has no problem with giving up her life for them if it’s worth it in the end. Fai is well aware of both facts and he always cries silently to himself.

Fai risks his life mostly for glory and being an actual adrenaline junkie. Nothing noble behind his actions.

12. what are your character’s major flaws.

I’ve already talked about it with Celia but her major, major flaw would have to be her envy and how much it blinds her, the fact that she has little empathy, is prideful/arrogant, suffers from a superiority/inferiority complex etc. etc.

I’d like to talk about Fai though! He’s apparent frivolous nature is a huge, huge flaw of his as he sometimes underestimates his opponents in battle and constantly undermines himself as well because he doesn’t really use all of his powers when fighting. He’s too carefree/playful and that’s his greatest trait about him but also his worst. I don’t really need to go too much in depth about how much his recklessness gets him in trouble or all of the weird mess he would get himself into lol… the dragon fighting is suffice enough.

13. what does your character pretend or try to care about?

Omg… I can’t help but think of this with Celia whenever someone finds out about her lies, she would act so deadpan once she’s caught in the act because chances are you already have a bullet through your head lol!!!! Her paranoia and overall perfectionist attitude won’t allow for her to let a silly mistake like that live for long.

Fai tries to pretend that he cares about The Lich and to his credit he almost follows their orders. Make what you will out of that.

14. how does the image your character tries to project differ from the image they actually project.

Celia has well over 3439203023 different personas since she’s very meticulous in how she wants to present herself to others in order to seem all the more appealing to them. As we all know, her acting is a crock of shit!! I wouldn’t go as far as to say that the real Celia is a terrible person and leave it at that, it takes away so much of her character because there’s so much more to her than her terrible life choices and actions.

With Fai, aside from his poker face that he wears when on duty, what you see is what you get because of how much of a shit he doesn’t give when it comes to presentation.

15. what is your character afraid of?

Blood. Ironic, isn’t it? For all of the lives that Celia takes and all of the blood she’s shed for the sake of her goal, just a mere glance at it and she relives through the night of her trauma all over again. She hates the sight, the smell and overall feel of it hence why she prefers to use long ranged weapons combined with her magic in order to not see blood spill from her victims. I think I’ve mentioned this before but Celia hates bleeding out not just because of her fear towards blood but because of how shitty her body is, it tends to take a while for a wound to clot and close up so she can bleed for hours on end with no signs of stopping (I’m not even touching on the fact how she suffers from minor internal bleeding either hence the high number of bruises she sometimes sports). I suppose getting caught by the military or Phoebe’s powers would be legitimate fears as well.

#layzeal #celia ;#fai ;#vERY BRIEFLY I'VE TALKED ABOUT FAI #ANYWAY!!!!

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