Masculinity Mondays: 18

 

As part of my progression into the Magician archetype, I have come to understand the need to incorporate my class history into my journey, because my experience of class is, at its heart, the experience of magic.

I am working class - but rural working class.  That has meant, as the UK, and the world, urbanises, that I have become classless - not in the way that allows social mobility, but in the way that precludes any real progress at all.  I have to make this transition from Warrior to Magician successfully, because disability means I can no longer effectively fight, and my experience of classlessness means I have no access to community support, and the social capital that lends.

Working class, as defined by urbanised experience, is, as a recent exchange on Instagram revealed, and as my own current situation in a fundamentally working class street in a working class town confirms, defined by "drama",  "people being loud in public",  "chaos",   "dysfunction"  and "avoidable errors of judgement."

Rural working classness, however, is the very opposite of that.  It is a quiet carefulness - carefulness with people as well as things.  There is drama, but it's the quiet drama of gossip, not the loud drama of declarations and accusations.   In the rural working class, we don't scream in peoples' faces, damage their property, or physically assault them - we quietly observe that they "don't always behave how you'd think people should in their situation."   We hold meetings they're not invited to, greet their applications to join committees with polite derision.  I know all this because it happened to me and my family - because we hadn't always lived in the village, or even the county. Because my mother had "notions" - her own father's condemnation of her,  and the perfect description of a woman who, though firmly working class, endeavoured to present herself and her family as otherwise.  I still feel resentment that the village I had to leave when I would have preferred to stay treated a peer who was a criminal and drug addict better than I was treated, because his family were a proper village family; they were established, they had history that my family would never have.  He was given a council bungalow; I was told it was "improper" for me to even enquire about a one-bedroom house with a small garden, because "gardens are for families."  I didn't even have the words to describe being trans fully at that point, I certainly didn't know it would be possible for me to physically transition - but everyone in that village, everyone around me, recognised I was not going to be someone who had a family - because the working class, especially the rural working class, consider "family" to exclusively mean "children." (Another reason for my family to be politely excluded - I am an only child. There were only two other only children in my village when I was growing up, and their families were equally viewed as "not really part of things here."  In the urban working class, this fixation on children, plural, has resulted in an attitude that it doesn't matter how many children you can afford to support - you have as many as you can, because your children buy your place in community...being someone who has never wanted children, and will certainly never have them, I've heard both the slamming and the locking of enough gates against me because my family is my wife, and the close friends I have particular regard for, and a sense of duty towards.)

I stand adrift from British class - I come from generations of people who lived in working poverty, with occasional dips into absolute poverty.  My education has been something I have had to pursue informally, ad-hoc, and entirely without support.  I was raised to believe that you "have to work hard to get what you want" - but without any kind of map as to how that effort should be directed, which has resulted in me wasting over two decades working to the point of exhaustion at the wrong things, never getting ahead, but rather running full-tilt into dead end after dead end.   The men in my family worked in factories - but factory hours no longer fit with bus routes.  I can't see well enough to work at the speed a modern factory line demands.  I'm completely night blind, and factory work means shift work. And the factories are closing rapidly in any case.  My competence at administration and organisation has previously got me into middle class businesses - but I've never been allowed to progress beyond the entry-level, minimum wage levels in those businesses.  Increasingly, the shift to "female focus" - meaning indirect communication, extensive consensus-seeking (ie, endless meetings), rather than decisive, action-focused leadership, and the rise of AI and automation, means those roles are declining, and the attitude is that my "energy" is not appropriate any more.

Working class energy is, at its heart, masculine energy, even when it's held by very feminine women. It's the energy of getting things done, rather than talking about getting them done.  It's the energy of "use the resources you can see", rather than identify the exactly right and proper components.  It's the energy of "me first" rather than "there is no 'I' in 'team'".  It's the energy of survival.   And the Western world is being deafened by people who point to dysfunctional men who should be in prison, away from decent society, and howl that "masculine energy is toxic! We can't allow it in our businesses!"  Middle class people can and do have very masculine attitudes, but they also have the means to be chameleons - to spend time learning to disguise and dissemble. To immerse themselves in other identities. To buy the right clothes, the right cars, the right club memberships. Houses in the right areas. The right holidays. The right hobbies.  They can feign the acceptable energy, whilst holding another energy in reserve, ready to switch back seamlessly as and when society shifts.

Working class people survive because of our masculine energy and focus. Because we need to survive, we can only afford space for that one energy, regardless of our gender and gender expression.  We have to stand ready to be violent, because we are not able to afford to simply move away from violence in the way middle class people can.

We become the indecent people who do violence at the command of decent people whose designs and desires demand violence, but who refuse to dirty their hands.  And no army is ever fully trusted by those who employ them.

"Working class" is being increasingly discussed - but, like "trans", the reality of what it means to be working class, rather than merely "identify as" working class, is being ignored, in favour of including everyone who "feels that the term resonates for them."

Masculinity Mondays: 17

 

I recently got a helix piercing, part of a reclaiming of an identity I lost for 20yrs behaving and presenting appropriately in highly corporate settings. In that whole time, I removed my earlobe piercings (which had been done for so long they fortunately didn't close up), and kept my sleeves down.

I have eighteen tattoos, and, now, 3 piercings.  The piercings are all in my ears, and my plan going forward is to stick to my ears, as they're easier to manage care for by touch.  However, I've previously had a labret piercing and an eyebrow piercing, both between the ages of 17-19, before I started corporate work.

With my most recent piercing, I'd been feeling very run down, anxious, and depressed prior; almost as soon as I got the piercing, I felt better. This is a common experience for people who are into ink and piercings - almost as common as the intense negative reactions against both ink and piercings from those who aren't into them.

Tattoos, piercings, scarification - things that our current society deems "extreme" have actually been part of routine human experience for most, if not all, of our existence.  Wounding in order to heal into community, a sacrifice of comfort for the payoff of belonging.

And that's what frightens the anti- crowd into aggressive hostility about tattoos and piercings; they are afraid of people who are comfortable with sacrifice. They don't know how to handle people who honour ritual in a world that claims nothing is or ever was sacred.

As I move into the Magician archetype, I will be moving away from regular, PAYE employment, and into full time freelancing - something I've previously only ever done alongside a full time job.

I am afraid.
But I am not beholden to my fear.
I have rites and rituals to work through the feeling of being afraid.

And yes - part of those rites will be getting new ink, and more piercings.

Masculinity Mondays: 16

 

Depression and masculinity.

Two things that are supposed to be mutually exclusive. Depression's PR campaign is stereotypically attractive, acceptably young, white women - beauty trapped in the cruelty of compassionless capitalism. Something gorgeous with the light drained out of her by this terrible curse.

Men who experience depression are told we're weak.
We're told we're "just making excuses."
We're told we're selfish.
We're told we're lazy.
We're told to "man up."
We're told to "get over it."

The option of having a lovely, affirming conversation with your manager about "needing a mental health break" is off the table for men - we're told that "everyone is stressed here."  We're reminded of how much our absence would affect the team.

I'm not talking off the cuff here; I've actually experienced this in every single job I've ever had when my mental health takes a dive - which is something I have to account for in my work, as it's part of living with schizophrenia; my brain doesn't co-operate with "Hey, let's just stay on the chill out track, and ignore all the negativity out there" (which is very much how I would prefer to be living my life); even if I keep myself away from all possible sources of concerning news, drama, whatever? My brain will just create that stuff out of literally nothing, and cause more problems than anyone wants to deal with.  

Part of this journey from Warrior to Magician is also learning how to handle not just my physical disabilities, but also my mental health.  That's a challenge for me, because my understanding of "rest" is "take a break from the work I'm paid for and work on stuff I might get paid for one day, or look for more options for work I'll definitely be paid for.  I am very literally restless;  I can't settle to "just doing nothing". That clashes quite badly with the fact that, on bad mental health days, I can't maintain focus - so, I end up task-jumping the day away, because I can't just do nothing, but I also can't focus on just one thing.

Going fully freelance is what I need  to do for my mental health and my physical disabilities, but it's also the worst of all possible world. Not knowing where the money's coming from isn't good for my mental health. Feeling that resting is just wasting an opportunity to find more revenue streams isn't good for either my mental or physical health.  

But the reality is that magic is ultimately creative energy, and creativity needs a lot of downtime. Growing up in a rural community, but being someone who does their best work in creative spaces, I often don't feel I've earned rest - I haven't been walking fields all day. I haven't been throwing hay bales around. I haven't been setting fences.  I haven't been out on a construction site. I haven't even been stacking supermarket shelves - I feel that I shouldn't need to rest.

One of the major steps - and stumbling blocks - on this journey for me is coming to genuinely know, on a guiltless, instinctual level, that rest is sacred.

And the problem is, that sounds too feminine, because women have rushed to claim sacredness - women are lapping up the idea that they are innately goddesses, so of course sacredness belongs to them, because they're goddesses, so who else would sacredness pertain to?

But sacredness pertains to gods, too.  If women are embracing their goddess energy, then men are gods, because for most of human history, spirituality placed a god and a goddess as equal partners in the spiritual landscape.

What does it mean to be a god? It means to hold space for the heartbreak, despair, and rage of those who believe in you.  It means to know what those who believe in you need, even when that doesn't seem to be what they want, and it means to know how to bring them to accept the thing they need when it isn't what they want. It means to do what is necessary even when it isn't popular. It means to be consistent even as belief in you and worship of you shifts, waxes and wanes.

You don't bring trivia to your god. If you can handle something yourself, you handle it yourself. You don't take the blessings from your god for granted - you are thankful to them. You don't cheap out your god - you give them the best of yourself, even if you can't make offerings of anything other than your time; you prioritise them  in the way you allocate your time. They are a commitment, not an afterthought.

It is not unreasonable for men to claim their godhood, and expect to be treated in these ways, just as it is not unreasonable for women to claim their goddesshood, and expect to be treated as such - but you need to understand that a god or a goddess isn't human. They don't have human concerns or human responsibilities.

Getting past the idea that having standards for how I'm treated, and how I treat myself, is entitlement and arrogance is going to be a challenge.  And accepting depression is going to be part of that element of this process - because learning to treat myself as though I am close to godhood in the way I respond to days like the past week, where  my mental health has been absolutely horrific,  is key to learning to be comfortable with rest, which is central to learning how to transition from Warrior to Magician.

Masculinity Mondays: 15

 

March - mad hares, and the point where it really starts to feel like spring. The perfect analogy for masculinity, especially masculinity in transition; spring "just happens" - on its own timeline, but with predictable signs and pacing. It doesn't matter how wild the winter has been, how dark, cold, and wet the previous weeks have been, spring shows up. There's never any doubt about it, it pays no attention to the kind of weather that's been before, or how people feel about it.  It gently arrives, and settles into place.

Hares fight - the quintessential image in Britain of hares is their "boxing matches".  Spring gently puts what has been behind it.  Hares fight for what they want - but they don't fight all the time.

That's what masculinity often gets wrong; not knowing when to stop fighting, and when to just...arrive. Hares don't fight because it's spring - they fight because spring is when they mate. They don't fight for mates, in the way many people assume - animals which fight during their mating season aren't fighting for the right to be the male who gets the females; they're fighting to be chosen by the females.  Not all females will choose the victor in a mating fight between two males - but they fight anyway, because the process of fighting is what allows watching females to make their own choices. In a fight, something is shown about the nature of a male that cannot be seen at peace or at rest.

Fighting isn't about violence inherently; in non-human animals, the energy, dynamism, and range of movement that fighting requires showcases overall health in a way little else can. Teeth are put on display. Flexibility, speed, stamina, and focus, ability to recover from both exertion and injury, are all very clear signs of health.

What does health mean to non-human animals?  We're often operating on very human assumptions.  Non-human animals have been shown to provide and care for disabled species-members, in a way humans are increasingly turning away from, claiming it's "unnatural", citing "survival of the fittest."

Except "survival of the fittest" never meant the strongest, the fastest, the least unwell, the least disabled, the leanest - it literally meant the most adaptable. Those which could fit themselves to their environment, rather than expecting the environment to remain constantly in line with their best qualities.

In the human world, adaptability is more about mindset than physicality - overpopulation, reliance on buildings and vehicles, and employment, have created a world in which most of us cannot adapt to natural changes and challenges.  Instead, we prove our adaptability by responding positively to social demographic changes, by being ready and willing to gain new skills, and by being able to discern between which "reskill in this now!" demands are genuine, and which are just flashes in the pans of privileged people using other peoples' money to create hype around something that is neither necessary nor relevant.

For me, on this journey, I recognise that, while I am socially adaptable, I'm burned out from having had to pivot, skills and career wise, half a dozen times in 14 years. I've never been comfortable with pivoting in this arena; change feels like an existential threat to me when it centres around the way I'm able to make money, and the things people will pay me for being useful in.  I'm not someone who is able to predict trends, I've never had money to invest in anything, I've never had the necessary buffer to allow me time to wait and work on things, to give riskier changes time to set in.

But that adaptability, that ability to predict and dance with trends and rising areas of focus, is the epicentre of magic.

I've been the hare, fighting to showcase how well suited for the demands of life I am.  Now, it's time for me to be spring, to just arrive as I am, and draw all that is intended for me to me.

How am I going to do that?
. I don't have time to build up investments through stocks, shares, or a pension, and I also feel extremely anxious around illiquid assets; up until now, I pursued high-paying jobs, and have tried to build side hustles to low-wage jobs; for 20yrs, I assumed that one or both of those things would work out, and I'd be able to throw £700-800 a month into investments, and £200-300 a month into savings, and then live on £1,500pm.  But I've never been able to earn the £2,500 net which feels like it really isn't an unreasonable ask, despite repeated attempts - in an average year, I'll apply for over 250 £35k a year + jobs. In a year where I'm out of work, that rises to over 600 £35k+ jobs, and over 250 jobs at lower income levels.   With stocks and shares not being a realistic option, and time running out, I've made the decision, this year, to begin prioritising buying precious and rare earth metals, which can be sold relatively quickly.

. I've recognised that, when it comes to side hustles, I've previously made the mistake of trying to come up with as many options as I possibly can as quickly as I can, and then become overwhelmed by the volume of follow-through required; I've therefore shifted to a focus of coming up with just TWO ideas which COULD generate at least £15k a year every Sunday morning; those two ideas get followed up through the week, then I move on to identifying two new options, pursue them, having automated chase emails for the previous two ideas.  Two ideas a week is manageable. £15k a year feels achievable.

. I've recognised that, other than money, I already live the life I want - I'm not ambitious about travel, I don't want brand items, or luxury housing or cars.  I don't do "rest" well, therefore retirement wouldn't suit me.  I've been told to anticipate losing the remaining 40% of my sight in the next 15yrs, but, even when I can no longer see, I'll be able to talk to people. Text to speech exists now, and is only likely to improve, meaning I'll still be able to work with plain text documents. Speech to text means I will still be able to write.  I own my house outright - thanks only to my father dying, and having been responsible enough to maintain a life insurance policy; I inherited half of that (£80k), and, in 2014, my house was £69,950 - it now needs major repairs, which insurance has refused to cover (because the original damage was caused by "vermin" - otherwise known as seagulls - and resulted from "negligence" - my being unable to convince an aggressive, dysfunctional neighbour to not amuse her grandchild by throwing breadcrumbs onto my flat roof, so that they could "watch the birdies" from their window...), so at best I'd only get the purchase price back if I sold the house tomorrow, as I'm having to piecemeal the repairs as and when I can afford them.  I wouldn't qualify to rent (Minimum rent for a literal studio flat - ie, a bedsit - in my area, which is very low cost of living, is £465 a month. You have to be able to prove 3x rent as regular income - I do not currently earn £1,395 a month.) My local authority - most local authorities in the UK - is more than willing to let people without kids die in the streets. When I was homeless before my marriage, I was literally told "we're not obliged to house single males - there's no real risk to you on the streets."  And that council worker was also aware I was trans, as that had been a contributory factor to my homelessness. (I was unable to live with my mother, as she'd previously attacked me at knifepoint...I got told that it was "understandable that she would have strong feelings about something like that" by this council worker...so much for the online trolls' claims that "trans people will only ever be seen as their biological sex!"  So much for "male privilege" - men have some privilege over women, sure - but there are ways women are privileged, too); I don't need to retire. I don't want to retire - I believe I can work for 3-4 days a week until I literally die.  I used to feel resentful of my wife for that - her disabilities and health challenges are the reason we only have my income, just as my sight loss is the reason I'm shut out of a lot of gig economy side hustles, and a lot of better paying jobs (because I can't drive, and will never be able to drive); the recent realisation that I don't really do well with "resting", and that, other than the challenges with the condition of the house, I already live a life I'm happy with.  I can run this life until the very end - and the type of work I'm best at can literally be done from bed, so ill-health and older age decline aren't really an issue.

. While I know content creation isn't a realistic "career" for me - I need a slower pace than social media allows, I don't have enough contacts for anyone to notice anything I do, I can't afford to buy followers, I would need to use AI editing software to create halfway decent videos, and I'm not clear on whether that would result in a major hissy fit on social - I also know it would be challenging for me to access that potential revenue; in 2010, when the ability to make money on social media really started to become a thing that was accessible for ordinary people, I was taking home £989 a month from a job in finance admin (it's depressing to realise that, even my best paid job in the past three years saw me taking home an equivalent income to that 2010 salary, and that I'm currently earning less than that £989 would be worth today); I was working 50hr weeks, with 2hrs a day of commute (on a bus), and I could only afford pre-paid internet on a dongle, which I could afford to top up by at most £20 a month - being chronically online, much less posting videos, wasn't an option. My laptop at the time didn't have an integral webcam. I didn't have a phone which could record video.  I couldn't get in at the ground floor then. During the 2020 spike in content creation potential, I was deep in the weeds of the extreme anxiety of being a carer for a clinically vulnerable spouse. We were a shielding household. My job just...stopped, because the company couldn't see how to pivot to remote work. We didn't get any government support.  I remember having to pay £8 on ebay for 2 packs of pasta, so we could actually have food. The first six weeks of lockdown were brutal.  I didn't have the mental space for literally anything "quirky and fun".   I'm also not naturally wired to be good at video - I communicate better in writing, and I also don't have the equipment to create glossy video content.

But I'm currently planning to do one video a week. Mentally, that's manageable, and it helps me build verbal communication skills, which are going to be increasingly necessary.