I really must switch books soon, I really must. All the books I am reading, the men heroes, as young boys, their fathers lie to them, imbue them with horrifyingly strange mythology about women and sex, abandon them - behaviour guised and written off as teaching them how to be a man - as in I will cheat you because the world will cheat you. From the men I love and know and the men whom I sit in doorstoops smoking and talking with, I know this is the truth, how it happens much of the time. These men in my life, really, they are good men, they are brothers in struggle, they are good feminists. But they are deep down afraid women will steal their souls, they cannot cry even when they are broken in two, they feel incredible silent social pressure to make more money because one day they will be expected to provide, they drink alone at home most nights with the TV on shrouded in sex-guilt and emptiness, they date down in order to preserve a power-paradigm and never have to commit. They are scared as the rest of us.
The three books where I have found this all-sad, harshing, making my heart melt sad and soft for all the wrong ways men are learned-up in this world, all the bad ancient-fear juju daddies are bestowing on babes and adult boys hungry for navigation: Augusten Borrough's Running With Scissors , Saul Bellow Collected Stories and the ultimate father/son travail of all time, The Holy Bible .
Yesterday, on the news, it was all about the triple homicide here in town, a man murdering his girlfriend and her parents, a week after she pressed rape charges against him. Today, it was more about the Wisconsin woman's fiance throwing her baby out on the freeway ( the baby is fine). They showed the footage twice on the national morning news. I could not watch.
I wish sons eventual upon the good men I know, so there can be more little men knowing of goodness and not brutalism.Posted by Jessica at September 14, 2004 04:03 PM | TrackBack