Not the Man they Wanted Me to Be

Memories of my time in Niger still flood my mind (I know I keep talking about this, and it's probably getting old, but it is still important to me). In dull moments at work, or while sitting on the metro bus, or, most often, while lying in my bed trying to fall asleep, they visit. A frequent theme that keeps recurring, and that I am trying to sort out, is how many Nigeriens seemed to want me to act as a Man. I will detail what they seemed to expect of me as a Man, my reactions, some of my general thoughts on manhood and end with a great poem (not mine!) on masculinity. If this doesn't sound too navel-gazing, read on!

As many of fellow volunteers were female (hey ladies!), I found myself often hangin' with the girls. Which is awesome. This was especially true during training on "language immersion," where I lived with 2 beautiful and wonderful women, Vida and Esther (miss you girls!), and our Language Instructor and all-around awesome fellow, Sangare. During our 2 weeks together "only speaking French" (not so much!) we sauntered around the lovely roadstop town of Guidan-Roumdji. We had a variety of objectives to complete (all in French) that included speaking to the mayor, teachers, school administrators, mat-makers, villagers, and others, asking many questions about life in Niger. Vida and Esther were better at French and more confident at speaking than me, so I sat mute while they chatted. We mostly met with Nigerien men, and as our meetings went on men kept asking me why I was not speaking. A few of the men seemed rather amused that the women were talking and the man was not. Some of them told me that I should be speaking more, and not the women. Cross-culture exchange!

In my life most people know me as "quiet," and this is often true when I am in situations that are outside of my comfort zone. Of course, everything about being in Niger was outside of most of our comfort zones. These men's wishes for me to speak up brought to mind memories of other times in my life where people wanted me to "man up." For me to get the us to our destination, to ask the girl out, to drink my fill, to win and want to win, to build the fire, and so on. When I did not complete these tasks, I often felt disappointment, even if unspoken, from myself and others. And even when I did complete these tasks, living up to people's ideas on What A Man Should Be and Do, the satisfaction I got was not pure. I did not always feel pleasure from "Manning Up." Instead I felt mixed.

On the other hand, when I do accomplish difficult deeds, when I push myself hard, when I support people and know they can depend on me, I do feel strong. I feel good. Are doing these things a sign of "manhood?" Do Other People know how best I should act, or do I? It's probably somewhere in-between.

Defining myself as a man, as a human, as an American, as a global citizen, is an ongoing process. Who am I and what am I? And when I am I different from what I am? In my own journals, and in this blog, I keep looking for these answers. Self-definition is a long road.

Finally, I want to end by posting a poem (stop groaning!). This a great poem, and a great look at masculinity, by one of the best American poets. This piece eloquently and musically speaks volumes about the difficulty, pain, and confusion of achieving "manhood." Here is Robert Hayden's "Those Winter Sundays." Enjoy!

"Those Winter Sundays"

Sundays too my father got up early
and put his clothes on in the blueback cold,
then with cracked hands that ached
from labor in the weekday weather made
banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.

I'd wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.
When the rooms were warm, he'd call,
and slowly I would rise and dress,
fearing the chronic angers of that house,

Speaking indifferently to him,
who had driven out the cold
and polished my good shoes as well.
What did I know, what did I know
of love's austere and lonely offices?

-Robert Hayden (1913-1980)