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A Man's Experience of Seeking Manhood

For a few decades I could never properly admit to myself that I might be a little afraid, just a little you understand, of women.

I was a man. I had all the advantages and so did not have to go through the mess of puberty, the down time each month occasioned by a menstrual cycle, the pain of childbirth or the constant carping and criticism of men who knew how to run your life better than you.

And yet, and yet as I aged - alas not always matured - I saw women achieve an inner confidence and a knowing denied to me and to most of the men I knew. True it wasn’t in all women, but it was in many, many more women than in men and I wanted to know why.

So I watched and listened, waited and sensed, and in the comparison of time with men and time with women, I noticed a difference so profound I doubted the conventional wisdom and the apparent certainty that I was better off as a man.

Many men I knew appeared shallow. Lacking the certainty of their manhood they struggled to prove it with looking cool, with casual violence of word and gesture, with dismissive relationships and pointless challenges that didn’t satisfy when they were supposedly successfully accomplished. In short the men, mostly, did not behave as, nor experience being men.

By contrast I never met one woman who doubted her womanhood. I met many who didn’t like it, some who wanted a change and many, many who inhabited their womanhood with a power I could only dream of. Not the power of physical might, not the power of the gun, just the simple power of knowing who they were.

I wanted that, and as I explored I knew it could not be won alone by effort and gestures of ‘manhood’, nor could it be won by becoming more like a woman by discovering and developing a supposedly feminine side.

It had to be won in arenas I was ill equipped for which almost nobody spoke of. It had to be won by me, bestowed by other men and seen by women. All three were required. This was not an exam where a majority score was enough, it was all or nothing, and yet there was no vehicle I could use or ride towards that knowledge. I had to make it.

The first part was done in the men's movement of the eighties. Warrior programmes, men together bonding, sharing and being seen. The traditional winning was a necessary beginning. It is difficult to experience manhood as a failure. The sharing, bonding, hearing and caring for one another opened those more feminine skills to the cauldron of manhood and allowed gentleness based in strength. Older, wiser men devising rituals and recognitions which moved me towards that Holy Grail - but it wasn’t enough and I struggled with my feminine and became weaker.

In the final piece I had to be seen and to be truly witnessed not as anything false, but simply and completely as I am.

That needs time and space to stand, and for others to look. Living in love and honour provides a place to stand and to be, where we allow others to look and ourselves to be seen. Where we drop the masks of cool and dare to open our hearts.

Once seen, we can never go back to boyhood. We can play and laugh and be child-like but never go back because now it is time to be who we are.

Once we are truly seen, truly deeply acknowledged for who we are then we move forward to the responsibilities and joys of men who know they are men. Men who can stand with Woman. Who can see and acknowledge her power. Who can be in its presence without fear or judgement.

Men, who can serve without servility, and surrender without shame; it is a glorious place.

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