In patriarchal culture males are not allowed simply to be who they are and to glory in their unique identity. In an anti-patriarchal culture males do not have to prove their value and worth. They know from birth that simply being gives them value, the right to be cherished and loved.
― bell hooks, The Will to Change: Men, Masculinity, and Love (2004).
In the latest Barbie (Greta Gerwig, 2023) movie, America Ferrera gave a powerful monologue echoing in every girl’s heart: “it is literally impossible to be a woman.” In a patriarchal society, demands of binary gender performance are putting women in an excruciating leash of subordination―impossible to break free, and yet impossible to fit perfectly. And at the other end of the leash, the one who barks the demands, we believe, is (cisheterosexual) men.
Oh, sure, men are grossly benefitted from patriarchy, we are not to deny that. But to reap such benefits, they are, too, to pledge allegiance with such demands of gender roles they have to fulfill. Gender is, after all, a performance. A troubled one at that, as shown by queer theorist Judith Butler in their book Gender Trouble (1990). Men are to perform a certain masculinity to be at the top of the hierarchy, dubbed as “hegemonic masculinity”, an idealized version under prescribed characteristics of masculinity men have to perform. By sociologist R.W. Connell’s initial identification in her book Masculinities (1995), hegemonic masculinity has two primary mechanisms: the subordination of women, and a hierarchy of intermale dominance.
At first glance of Pitbull (Fabian Leon, 2022), we might ask: why pitbull? We are shown shots focused on the pitbull itself, as if he was the protagonist. But as we delve deeper, the pitbull comes across as serving a kind of symbolism―a too blatant, almost banal one. Pitbull serves as a very masculine visual cue, symbolizing the overall theme of this short film. And the (actual) protagonist, Manuel is able to be affectionate with his pitbull dog in a framework of intermale hierarchy relations. It’s a “bros before hoes” type of relation where he seems to be able in expressing affections to (only) his dog as his “masculine companion”, but only because he is the owner of the dog, and as the owner, he has authority over his dog. Manuel is only seen affectionate with the pitbull, and not with the woman he has sexual encounter with; it’s only a deed to be done with, and not an expression of intimacy. A performance of benefits to commit, to exchange, and to win, even, with that smug grin he gives the woman after performing cunnilingus on her.
And then Manuel’s performance of hegemonic masculinity breaks when the woman interacts with him sexually in his anus. He seems to enjoy it, but not without psychological turmoil. When he goes to the bathroom and the woman follows with reassurances, it does not seem to help: he has to say “I’m not gay” to a man he met at the store. He has to say it. He has to make it clear. Maybe he’s even saying it, making it clear, for himself. He has to say it out loud, to convince himself that he’s not gay. In front of someone, to have a feedback validation. And all he gets is a punch―deservedly.
When he cries, he cries alone. Boys don’t cry, not in front of others, so he cries alone. Manuel is so shaken to tears of what he is capable of: a pleasure. What do these tears speak of? That cisheterosexual men’s masculinity is so fragile that simple pleasures by anal sex are enough to make every masculine fronts fall apart? Yes, yes, of course. But What is the cost of this pleasure that is too heavy to bear that men would rather not have?
bell hooks (American feminist scholar, author, and activist) proposes this answer: “no male successfully measures up to patriarchal standards without engaging in an ongoing practice in self-betrayal.” (The Will to Change, 2004) The cost is, apparently, their ability to perform to patriarchal standards. Hegemonic masculinity is oppressive and all-dominating, and yet it is built on harsh standards that, actually, no man on earth is capable of fulfilling. Not without betraying their needs of love, affections, intimacies, protections, care, and pleasures―the vulnerable, human parts of them―and masking it behind frail masks. To deny their vulnerabilities is to deny themselves of their humanity, and of course, it’s such an impossibly fragile thing to do, as a human.
What if we start telling men that everything they ever want and need in life is free? There is no cost to have love, to have pleasure, to have unlimited joy of all nice things in the world. There is no cost to tear their frail mask and be vulnerable. And one thing they don’t need is, actually, to be at the other end of the leash. They need not to dominate. They need not to place themselves above anyone. They need not step on or cost anyone else in the pursuit of their worldly wishes. What they need is a will to change: to tear down patriarchy inside out, within and out of them.
Women and queer folks have been at the front of the anti-patriarchy movement. As we untangle the knots of patriarchy, we have discovered that femininity is not one-dimensional. Femme folks are not helpless damsel in distress in need of protection. They are not always submissive and voiceless. They can be, and have always been fierce, unyielding, and persevere in their resistance against oppressive masculinity. But as we start to reimagine femininity as strong and unyielding, can we reimagine masculinity as something tender and vulnerable? The one that is worth receiving soft pleasures and vulnerable intimacies. The one to be protected from gross patriarchal violence that corrupts them into that viciousness. The one that does not have to always prove their manhood, their masculinity, and their worth of being.
There are other forms of masculinity other than the hegemonic one. Gender non-conforming (GNC) folks within the masculine spectrum of gender identity and expression have always been performing subversive masculinity. They, too, surely, have been punished for it under patriarchal hegemonic masculinity―for being not masculine enough, for being too masculine. What if we nudge them to see these other forms? To be brave in tenderness. To be strong in kindness. To be tough in vulnerability. To be resilient in interdependence. To tie solidarity with subversive masculinity and with full intention choose not to fulfill the harsh standards patriarchy imposes upon us. To realize that nobody’s free until everybody’s free. To have the will to change.
Does Manuel, in the end, have the will to change? Sadly, Fabian Leon does not have a say on that. I personally don’t get what the protagonist, or even Leon, is trying to say with that wink. But the will to change requires an arduous process of unlearning and relearning structural indoctrination worth a lifetime, and one anal sex is not all of it. Maybe that’s what Leon is trying to picture in his frames, a short film of hegemonic masculinity faced with its own fragility through pleasures. A Trouble in Paradise. A gendered one.
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