“Anthropologists all agree,” writes Richard Reeves in his 2022 book, Of Boys and Men. “Womanhood is defined more by biology, manhood more by social construction. Manhood is fragile.” Evidence of his assertion abounds in contemporary public discourse, in which “being a man” is an increasingly fraught and disputed concept.
In 2019, when guidelines published by the American Psychological Association averred that “traditional masculinity—marked by stoicism, competitiveness, dominance and aggression—is, on the whole, harmful,” critics like Christine Rosen disagreed. “An abstraction like ‘traditional masculinity’ brings confusion rather than clarity to the challenges facing boys and men,” she wrote. “It also provides convenient cover to ideologically motivated psychologists who would rather complain about broader structural forces than engage with the messy realities of male patients who, like every other person on Earth, are merely trying to navigate life’s many challenges.”
I have been struck this week by the variety of presentations of—and conversations about—masculinity in news and social media narratives. Nature abhors a vacuum, perhaps doubly so when contested ideas about manhood inform circumstances of transition or disruption. Juan Soto, in a vacuum of professional free agency, secured a 15-year, $765 million deal with the New York Mets—the largest sports contract in history. A real man is an athlete. Abu Mohammad al-Julani, in a vacuum of civil war, was instrumental in overthrowing, in a matter of days, the despotic regime of Bashar al-Assad in Syria. A real man is a warrior. Elon Musk and Vivek Ramaswamy, in a vacuum of transition in American presidential leadership, continued their efforts to establish the new Department of Government Efficiency. A real man is an innovator. Gukesh Dommaraju, in a vacuum of global chess dominance, became the youngest undisputed world champion in the history of the game. A real man is a prodigy. Brian Thompson, in a vacuum of opportunity in small-town Iowa, distinguished himself from a young age and rose to the leadership of America’s largest healthcare company. A real man is a working-class hero. Luigi Mangione, in a vacuum of public confidence in health insurance providers, assassinated Mr. Thompson for his leadership position and, when captured, was widely celebrated across our country despite the horrific nature of his crime. A real man is a revolutionary. Competing narratives proliferate.
J. F. Roxburgh, who served from 1923 to 1949 as the first headmaster of Stowe School, a boys’ school in England, once defined his job as producing men who would be “acceptable at a dance and invaluable in a shipwreck”—which is to say, per Richard Reeves’ translation, men who are mature and courageous. For an example of both, I would direct your attention to another man who made the news this week, but barely so in comparison to those enumerated above. Dick Van Dyke, who turns 99 today, was invited by the British band Coldplay to appear in a music video with his extended family, and the resulting tribute is by turns endearing, moving, funny, nostalgic, and hopeful. A real man is kind and sincere. A real man is grateful. A real man is lighthearted. A real man is unforgettable. A real man is inspirational.
It so happens that today is my birthday, too. I never knew that I shared December 13 with Dick Van Dyke. How warm it feels to know that I do! He is unique in this world—but so, too, is each of us. So, too, is every boy you know. Perhaps they dream of becoming Juan Soto, or Elon Musk, or Gukesh Dommaraju. I hope they will find room in their dreams for becoming Dick Van Dyke, too. There’s the whole world at their feet, after all—and who gets to see it but the birds, the stars, and the chimney sweeps?
Always reason, always compassion, always courage. My very best wishes to you and your loved ones for a happy and restful weekend.
Jay Rainey
Head of School
This week’s addition to the “Refrains for Rams” playlist: All My Love by Coldplay (Apple Music / Spotify)