My Dad and I had a strange relationship.
He loved me and was also mystified by me. Like many men, he didn’t know how to express how he felt. Feelings were a thing to deal with, not leverage.
He was often prone to bursts of anger and relished his stubbornness. At the same time, he was gentle, kind, and always loving with people in pain.
He struggled to accept my being gay. He said he never knew what it was to be a man, more or less a gay one. He didn’t have many male friends. He was different, and so was I, his only son.
As he was nearing the end of his life, he sent me a letter with a huge manuscript. He’d written about his life in the war and how it changed him. He said this in the letter:
You have said many times that you don’t know me very well. I suggest that you read my book. I did not realize until I had completed it that so much of my war experience molded my adult behavior.
One of the most important personal achievements I realized from my combat experiences was that I had the golden opportunity to test myself in the most adverse situations to see if I was a ‘man.’ I came out better than most of them.
What society, or our male counterparts, determine what is a man is very vague and not very well defined. So, we have the opportunity to define it in ourselves and measure it against our drumbeat.
If I have a credo, it is Thoreau’s statement: “If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the muse he hears, however measure or far away”. I practice it every day. Think positive and remember that the glass is always half full.
Love, Dad.
I say to all the men I work with: Define what being a man is for yourself and measure it against your drumbeat.
Think about the virtues you feel describe you as a man.
If you were raised by a father (many of us were not - I’ve heard loads of absent father stories) very openly question what attributes you say are ‘just you’ because you come from that man and ask if you want to keep them. They are not, Luke, your destiny.
We’re not our father’s son by default. We don’t have to be who they were (or are).
It’s difficult to create a new identity that works for us because our minds are preoccupied with past thoughts.
Know this, and rewrite it with new thoughts.
A few pointers:
Decide what virtues your father has (or had) define your version of being a man, and discard the rest.
You must know how you act, speak, feel, and behave to do this.
You don’t have your father’s temper because you’re your ‘father’s son.’
The hardest work of your life is to be here now—not in the past, not future forecasting, but now.
Watch yourself in traffic. Do you lose your shit and honk? Why are you so impatient?
Do you speak from anger and not take a 3-second rule before speaking when pissed off?
Do you feel depressed? Did you know depression is unexpressed rage?
Do you always tell the truth? Are you forthright in business deals? Are you always taking care of yourself first and others second?
Do you believe in chivalry? Being a gentleman? This one is tricky today.
I have found my faith in my father's advice to always see the glass as half full. I use that feeling as the basis for what it means to be a man. As Henry Rollings said, “My optimism wears very heavy boots.”
Certain parts of the world have very vocal options about what a man needs to be. As my father noted, this is great for the collective. This means there is now an opportunity for radical self-identification and individualization.
Tune in to the feelings of drive, virtue, and masculinity as you define them. Be clear on how they show up in your career, love life, and daily interactions.
Listen - I’m the kind of guy who can go to Wicked on a Friday and Gladiator 2 on a Sunday and love both (although I think Gladiator is better).
When you know who you don’t want to be, you know who you do want to be.
Define the want from the unwanted, and you’re free.
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