On Masculinity
People of the Twentieth Century: Group VI, Portfolio 38, Photograph 7
(August Sander, c.1930)
TW: This post contains passing reference to body image issues and abusive relationships.
My masculinity is not something I think about particularly often. I take it for granted that I am a man, and do not divide my actions and behaviours into masculine or feminine. I know men who actively self-police and self-monitor to try and present themselves as masculine and as manly as possible at all times, which to me always ends up looking or sounding rather cartoonish. That is not to say that I do not have values that I try to live in accordance with in order to be the man that I would like to be. There are two refrains close friends know I repeat when asked about masculinity - “protect and provide”, meaning that I try to ensure all the people close to me and that I care about feel safe, seen, heard and cared for; and “a man is his word”, meaning your words and actions should always align. I do not believe these are inherently masculine qualities, but simply a philosophy I try to live by.
Throughout my life I have had a number of people tell me that I was not masculine enough, and that I was not a man, as a way of insulting me. There have been three main contexts for these claims - two of which have made me feel sorry for the person voicing the claims, and one which does hit deep at an insecurity that I have yet to work through fully. Now, if you are wondering why I am discussing this on a fashion blog, please bear with me, I hope it becomes clear.
The most common comment I get about my masculinity is mostly down to the community and environment I grew up in - a man having an interest in art or fashion was seen as inherently feminine. The question I got most as a teenager was always “Aren’t you afraid people will think you’re gay?”, which tells you all you need to know about where I grew up in South London. I have never been ashamed of having an interest in art and fashion, it is simply part of who I am. Those sorts of comments have never bothered me, because it just speaks to outdated ideas of masculinity and the insecurities that person carries with them because of what they were or were not exposed to growing up.
A more pernicious comment I have heard a few times, specifically from women in my life, has been that I was not masculine enough because I am not quick to anger, or because I do not get physically aggressive when I am angry (if a woman ever says you are not a man because you do not hit her back after she strikes you, walk away if you can - if you stay and do nothing, it will only get worse). These comments have made my heart break for the women voicing them, because in each instance it came from an abusive or dysfunctional past, but at the same time - make sure you stay safe and remove yourself as quickly as possible from situations, friendships and relationships where you are treated poorly. You absolutely do not have to put up with that, nor do you owe that person anything.
The only comment that actually gets under my skin is when I have been told, again strangely primarily from women, that I am not manly because of my body weight. I have an autoimmune disease that means I have spent the overwhelming majority of my life clinically underweight, and lose weight rapidly when I am in a flare or under stress. It is something that I feel incredibly self-conscious about, particularly as I am on the taller end, meaning I end up looking thinner than I actually am. I have spent much of my life feeling like my body keeps me prisoner, and I am unable to do much about my weight, so for people to target something out of my control as evidence of a supposed fundamental lack of masculinity, does really rub me the wrong way. As unfortunately seems to have been the case several times in my life, once you tell someone that it is something you are uncomfortable with them making comments on, they know exactly what to say the next time they want to attack you. Again, I feel like I ought to add that if someone repeats comments you have already explained to them you are uncomfortable with, especially with the intention of hurting you, you really have to look after yourself and get out of that situation because that person does not care about you.
Although my weight has always been an insecurity for me, I have never consciously felt that it makes me any less masculine. Anyone can have an autoimmune disease, and it does not make them any less than what they are. I am insecure about it from what I describe as a more intimate place, tied to my sense of self, beyond any notions of masculine or feminine. And yet, it is perhaps one of the most important factors when it comes to my personal relationship with fashion. This is something I want to explore more in my next post on uniforms, but there is a simple reason I gravitate towards designers like Yohji Yamamoto or Ann Demeulemeester - the clothes work with my body and I enjoy and feel comfortable with their visions of masculinity.
With Yohji, the menswear is sized more for height than anything else - meaning you can wear whatever size is long enough, and your weight is not so important, because almost all the trousers are designed to be belted up and indeed some have several inches of excess at the waist. There has always been a comfort in that for me, because it means that I can wear my clothes regardless of what my weight is doing. I also find physical comfort in that excess of fabric a lot of the time, feeling armoured but cosy at the same time. Playing with military uniforms, suiting and other masculine motifs, Yohji always has a playful nature to the way he presents his men, that really appeals to me.
When it comes to Ann, I remember putting on a shirt by her some ten years ago and it was the first time a shirt had fit me in a way I felt comfortable in. Because of my height and weight most shirts tend to have sleeves that are too short for me unless I size up, at which point I have to contend with the body and collar swimming (intentionally oversize pieces are a different matter). So for me to put on a shirt and for it to fit exactly as the designer intended, made me feel like there was a designer who actually saw and understood my body. There is a sad but beautiful notion behind that really - the emotional validation of a garment fitting. It sounds like such an insignificant thing, but for me it felt almost like a sense of belonging.
To tie this back to masculinity, it is perhaps fitting that I most enjoy work from designers who treat masculinity with a more romantic notion, working within a framework of traditional men’s clothing, but playing to the outcasts of poets and vagabonds - the men who make their own way in the world. Yohji and Ann (apologies if I speak of her as if she is still designing) both work beautifully with tailoring to use traditional menswear motifs in a far more nuanced manner that veers it away from hypermasculinity. They often subvert masculine stereotypes and posit what is to my mind a far more inclusive and elegant proposition for what masculinity can look like. It is something I find truly beautiful and which aligns with how I wish to dress and present myself to the world.
xxxx
