I think that men are looked at as violent creatures constantly engaged in a never-ending quest for power sex and beer. Jean Kilbourne expresses this idea through her essay titled “Two Ways a Woman Can Get Hurt ” a look at advertising and its relation to violence rape and gender roles.
Advertising always shows men kicking ass and taking names, while women cheer them on or hide in the corner. Then, after the man plays rugby against lions, he sits while she fetches him a sandwich and an ice-cold, frost-brewed, beer of some sort. It glorifies competition, aggression, and violence for men, and indicates that women are weak and fearful. The thing is, advertising plays a small role in competition among men. I believe it has more to do with natural instinct, or manliness. Men, like other mammals, will engage in competition, especially when there is no other choice. Harvey Mansfield describes manliness as follows:
Manliness can be heroic. But it can also be vainly boastful, prone to meaningless scuffling, and unfriendly. It jeers at those who do not seem to measure up, and asks men to continually prove themselves. It defines turf and fights for it—sometimes to defend precious rights, sometimes for no good reason. (Mansfield)
Manliness can be glorifying. “Manliness is best shown in war, the defense of one’s country at its most difficult and dangerous. In Greek, the word for manliness, andreia, is also the word for courage.” (Mansfield 452)
We all must experience the development of courage in our lifetime. It may not always be a simple task, but it usually takes place at a pivotal time. In middle school, I got along with almost everybody. It was a fairly easy time in my life, and being a man was still light years away. If only it were that simple. There were these three kids who pretty much just thought they were God’s gift to the universe. Using pranks, violence, and profanity, they spent nearly every minute of every day making somebody else’s life suck. That really didn’t bother me. I was busy writing articles for the school paper and doing homework and didn’t care what these morons did. Until one day, they gave me a reason to care.
The previous day, they beat a kid up on the bus. The kid was in pretty bad shape, and when the bullies were asked about it, they said I helped. This was totally untrue, and I was pretty mad. After letting them know my frustrations, I figured they would simply leave me the hell alone. Instead, they decided to be annoying. Before I get into that, I have to say this: in a way, I brought this situation upon myself. It started in fifth grade when we were assigned pen pals from the other elementary schools in our district. My pan pal, Steve, always said stupid things to be funny. One day, he wrote some stuff about being in love with the Teletubbies. In eighth grade, he was in my science class. I thought it would be funny to tell the class about his letters. He didn’t think so and felt he needed to gain revenge. And so, a war was declared. Earlier I mentioned three kids: Steve, the leader of the group, and his henchmen, Rob and Gary. They were best friends, and scavengers. They wanted a battle, so I brought a series of them.
The battles started pretty small. They would stand behind my locker and scream stupid things; I never really acknowledged them for this. I didn’t act like it was really that big of a deal. Inside however, I was getting angry. After a couple days, it escalated. Two of them were standing behind me, Rob and Gary I think, doing their usual screaming routine. On this day, I finally came back with a slight retaliation; I flipped them off. When I did so, without looking, I was pushed hard in the back, causing me to fly face first into my locker. My mouth was bleeding a little bit and I was pissed. I got up and pushed one of them through the bathroom door. Then a teacher came and we had to go to the office.
The two of them went into the office first and explained their side of the story. When I walked into the office, I was informed that I was actually kneeling down in front my locker, not standing. And I wasn’t attacked, no. One of them was tying his shoe; and the other, in a hurry to be on time for class, tripped over him and landed on me. Finally, I was given a half-assed apology and a powerful “It won’t happen again.” I left the office and headed to my science class, which I had now missed. Before I went to the office, I put my books in the room. As I neared the door, the bell rang. People poured into the hallway, and I was going to be late for my next class if I didn’t hurry. I fought through the crowd for a good minute before I was able to push my way into the room. I grabbed my backpack, had a quick conversation with the teacher, and walked back out.
Now the halls were almost empty. The only ones left were the rebels that stood in the hall until the final bell rang. I walked past them to once again be pushed in the back. I hit the ground and jumped up looking around just as quickly. It was Gary.
He came at me and swung, but I ducked and pushed him again. I was trying to get through this without getting into trouble. I thought about walking away, but by that time about 20 kids had gathered around. I couldn’t walk away. I was being challenged and I had to face it; otherwise, I would be a pussy for the rest of my high school career. With my manliness on the line, I had to fight.
He was taller than me, so I had to get him to the ground. I went for his knee, but he dodged me and kneed me in the face. I fell back but got up quickly. This time I just ran and tackled him. We punched each other like twice, then, another teacher. We were pulled apart and taken to the crazy assistant principals’ office. She screamed at and threatened us for forty-five minutes. We were told that the next time we got into an altercation, we would leave the building in handcuffs. For the time being, we were given 3 days of detention. To prevent more violence, we were assigned separate days; also, she made us agree to meet with a school counselor to attempt to resolve our differences. The next day, we did.
I sat in a small room across from my three opponents in this game. Between us, a calm little man in Dockers and a polo shirt gleefully explained that we should be getting along for the better of all parties involved. When he asked us what the problem was, none of us told him anything. He got a little annoyed and gave us one more warning not to fight again. I told him I wouldn’t, and planned not too. I was sick of getting in trouble. Unfortunately, they had other plans.
It took these kids a week, but they tried to strike again. This time, Rob tried to fight me. I didn’t feel like dealing with the principal again, so I was just like “no man.” I walked away to him screaming insults at me and a bunch of kids once again disbursing. No teachers came. No one said anything. It was all okay.
Through these two incidents, I learned to choose my battles. If I’m attacked, I have to fight. But, I shouldn’t provoke unless necessary. That just leads to pointless trouble. But the story doesn’t end like that. No, Steve, the main villain in all this, had yet to be involved. Eventually, after another week, that changed.
He was pretty up front about it. Every day, on my way to science class, he would punch me in the face. He wouldn’t say a word, he would just punch me. Then leave. The hall was short and narrow and usually empty. No one ever witnessed it. The truth is he punched like a little kid. It really didn’t hurt much. But it got old, so I was forced to engage in what I like to call the “Final Battle,” as it is the one to cease any engagement between all parties involved. The class we were both going to was Earth Science. The instructor was about 68 years old and had little to no idea what was going on. Usually, he was very late for class because he was slow to get up the steps. That was when I had to do it.
I went to my locker before class, like always. I put away all my books, except my science book. I turned the corner and BAM; he caught me with a blow to the head. I reached back, and with everything I had, I hit him in the face with my book. He flew onto the ground and I quickly followed up. I kicked him a few times and walked into the room. He followed and tackled me to the ground. I punched him in the head a few times and got back up. He jumped and hit me some more. Then he ran to a desk to catch his breath.
As I caught my breath, I looked around. People were excited! They wanted to see more, so I gave it to them. I chased after the kid for a few seconds, and when he decided to sit down, I flipped his desk over. He started to yell, and I brought up the whole reason this started: the Teletubbies letter.
Everyone started laughing at him. As a result, adrenaline took him over and he came at me again. He kicked me in the stomach and threw me to the ground. He slowly walked to me; I grabbed his leg and flipped him onto the ground. I punched him twice and stood up. I put my hands on a desk and sort of leaned on it. Moments later, when he rose to his feet, I picked up the desk and chucked it at him with everything I had. CRASH! The desk snapped into a heap over his chest and head. He was on the ground in a dumbfounded fit of rage. I felt glorious. I faced a problem and destroyed it with pure manliness and aggression, defending my “turf” and earning my place in the middle school animal kingdom.
Jean Kilbourne says that “Male violence is subtly encouraged by ads that encourage men to be forceful and dominant…” I truly don’t believe that applies to everybody. I think that most of the time, men commit to violence in intense situations. Like other mammals, men must defend their turf, and more importantly, their pride. If it is challenged, aggression takes over and violent behavior is expected, and for many, condoned.
When I made my decision to engage in a battle, I knew what I was getting into. My pride was challenged, and I had to defend it. This, over the effects of advertising, causes violence between men. This will not change; the human race will always have some need for violence, especially in a hostile situation. As long as we are able to keep these things to a certain degree, they should not become a serious epidemic. In the presence of greater power, manliness is forgotten and common sense takes over.