How My Father Escaped From the ‘Act Like a Man Box’ and Saved His Life
By: The Good Men Project
Tags: Fathers, Mental Health, Gender Roles, Masculinity, Mental Illness

How My Father Escaped From the ‘Act Like a Man Box’ and Saved His Life

How breaking the standards of masculinity liberates men.

Photo credit: iStockPhoto

By Jed Diamond Ph.D

If you’re male, sometime in your life someone has told you to “act like a man.” I heard it from my first wife when she got mad and screamed it at me after I had refused to confront a guy who had sold us a faulty appliance. I heard it again from a friend who wanted me to leave this same woman after she had taken her anger out on me…again, and punctured the tires in my car.

Most of us grew up with certain rules that required men to act and be a certain way that were different from the way women were required to act and be. Growing up I knew that a man must fight anyone who disrespects him, his mother, or his wife. I learned early that a man must be the breadwinner and support his family, no matter what.

Writer and activist Paul Kivel described these manhood mandates as putting us in the Act Like a Man Box. As I grew up I found my life work helping men and women break free from the restrictions that keep us locked down. I came to see that the Act Like a Man Box and the Act Like a Woman Box were mirror images of each other.

When I read Betty Friedan’s book, The Feminine Mystique in 1963 I realized “the problem that has no name,” which is the title of Chapter 1, highlighting the dissatisfactions that women were feeling, also stirred similar feelings in me. The book begins with these words:

“The problem lay buried, unspoken, for many years in the minds of American women. It was a strange stirring, a sense of dissatisfaction, a yearning that women suffered in the middle of the twentieth century in the United States. Each suburban wife struggled with it alone. As she made the beds, shopped for groceries, matched slipcover material, ate peanut butter sandwiches with her children, chauffeured Cub Scouts and Brownies, lay beside her husband at night — she was afraid to ask even of herself the silent question. ‘Is this all?’”

If I had the insight into men that Friedan had in women, I might have written. “The problem lay buried, unspoken, for many years in the minds of American men. It was a strange stirring, a sense of dissatisfaction, a yearning that men suffered in the middle of the twentieth century in the United States. Each suburban husband struggled with it alone. As he went off to work each day, busting his balls at a job he didn’t love in order to bring home the bread to support his family, always terrified he might be laid off, forever trying to climb the ladder and compete with other men who were also fighting for the few jobs at the top. When he lay beside his wife at night — he was afraid to ask even of himself the silent question. ‘Is this all?’”

It took me a long time to realize that the same things that society was telling women they must be, were the same things they were telling men they must not be, and vice versa.

For instance, growing up I learned that men must be and women must not be:

The primary breadwinner

Physically strong

Good with tools

Logical

Hairy

Aggressive

Muscular

Tough

Hard

Decisive

The reverse was also true. I learned that women must be and men must not be:

Home with the kids

Gentle

Good with feelings

Emotional

Smooth skinned

Passive

Curvy

Tender

Soft

Yielding

My father didn’t fit well in the Act Like a Man Box. Unlike his brothers and sisters who all went into business or became insurance salesmen, my father wanted to be a writer. He was a gentle soul, tender, kind, and emotionally expressive. Yet, when I was born and he struggled to make a living, he became increasingly angry and depressed. It’s still heartbreaking for me to witness his struggle and suffering as I read his journals, which I only discovered in recent years.

Summer, 1948:

“The heaping up of many failures unbalances a man’s worth and I often lose complete faith in myself. The feelings of inferiority are overwhelming. I must constantly be reminded of my accomplishments, no matter how small, to keep my self-respect and belief in my intrinsic worth.”

September 14, 1948:

“How much can my wife stand? When in this world will I ever have a piece of bread that isn’t encrusted with fear and doubt, with all those moldy devils turning my blood to water and my stomach to mush. I feel like a gutless zero.”

October 10, 1948:

“Oh, Christ, if I could only give my son a decent education — a college decree with a love for books, a love for people, good, solid knowledge. No guidance was given to me. I slogged and slobbered and blundered through two-thirds of my life. I can’t make a decent living and it’s killing me.”

December 8, 1948:

“Your flesh crawls, your scalp wrinkles when you look around and see good writers, established writers, writers with credits a block long, unable to sell, unable to find work, Yes, it’s enough to make anyone, blanch, turn pale and sicken.”

January 24, 1949:

“Faster, faster, faster, I walk. I plug away looking for work, anything to support my family. I try, try, try, try, try. I always try and never stop.”

June 8, 1949: