RewindResetRedefine

I often talk about what it means to “be a man”. It’s not like I truly know so it’s more pondering then expounding on the topic. Gender roles have evolved (in a good way) over the past few decades but I wonder how has the notion of “being a man” evolved? It feels more encompassing. Is it a greater, broader version of what it always was, always has been? Or has it evolved too?

Growing up, much like many other fortunate people, my first encounter of a man was my father. A traditional man. A quiet man. A simple man. Not the kind who would understand the evolved gender equations but the kind who sort of found his way; either by accepting it or just choosing not to fight it. I would never know. His upbringing and ideas were simple: he earns the bread, deserves a plate of warm food at night, doesn’t need to know which grades his kids are in (just when his daughter is ready for marriage). His wife runs the home, takes care of the kids and teaches his daughter to cook. Fair? Maybe not. Simple? Yes. Did I, the youngest of three, admire it? No. However, it wasn’t until much later, that I realized, all I knew of him was what he expected of us. I didn’t know his dreams, his fears…his pain. Did he feel fulfilled? What did he feel proud about and what did he consider his failures? I never saw him cry — hell, I don’t even know if he ever did. I cried my eyes out when his mother died, I don’t even what he went through. Was there grief or just like everything in the olden times, a part of life? He never told, never showed. And I suppose in his world view, this was what we expected of him. What society expected of him. Don’t show your grief, don’t bitch about your financial troubles, your struggles, your broken dreams, don’t overshare your happiness. I didn’t learn of many of his emotions until he was no longer with us. Like how he hid from me the mental strain and physical toll it took on him to send me to the US to study. Or how he had vowed to head to Shirdi if I got a job at XYZ company (I did and he did too).

So why does this matter? It just sounds like a separation of concerns, no? Mom takes the physical and mental toll of the household and Dad of providing for us. True. And it also makes sense that we know the emotions of the person (Mom) who spent more time with us, took care of us. But herein lies the rub: with the evolved gender roles, has this really changed? Sure, my kids do know me a lot better because I do take care of them, spend quality time with them. But I still wear that same mask. The mask which betrays stability and “I am in control“, when really I am barely holding on. And I am not even the “stoic”, “still water runs deep”, manly Man. I am an emotional guy who isn’t afraid to show his tears or do a little dance with his kids on the last day of school. Why, then, didn’t I cry until I was alone when the first man in my life left too soon? How did I hide my grief the entire year that my marriage (and life) fell apart? When there were days I would wake up not knowing if I’ll be heading to the office or a mental health clinic because I couldn’t stop my dark thoughts. And it’s not just the mask either. The same hold trues for this sense of duty. I maybe physically & emotionally drained but you got to do what needs to be done. And there’s no softness at the end of it, no “I am proud of you for pushing through”. At best, it’s an acknowledgment that I did my job. If I dare let that mask down, I need get over it or just be a man.

This post isn’t to complain about evolving gender roles, or mens rights: I hope you would believe me when I say this that I strive to operate with equity with the women in my life. This is just me screaming in the void asking, I am the only मर्द (man) who thinks it’s natural to hide our दर्द (pain)? Not compelled to do so, just that it’s the natural order. Can we ask ourselves again, what does it mean to Be A Man?