LITTLE BOYS
An Essay on Men and Vulnerability
Once upon a time, there were little boys. And they were meant to transcend the once-upon-a-time story of The Man.
By Dip B. Mariposque (Quezon City, Philippines)
February 22, 2022
Once upon a time, there was a little boy who was born in a dark cave. His father is a shadow who taught him that the outside world is cruel and therefore he must be cruel too. He must conceal his true feelings. He must hold his head up high and treat the world with an iron fist. He will rule.
When the little boy was ripe of age, he went outside the world and unleashed his cruelty to the world. The outside world, fearing him, called him “MAN”. The man was acknowledged by the world, he ruled it for centuries and from then on, more little boys followed in his footsteps. They all lived in the dark cave, taught that the world was to be ruled by them with cruelty, they too must conceal their feelings.
When the little boys were ripe of age, they went outside the world and unleashed their cruelty. They ruled it too, the world fearing them, called them “MEN” and the story lives on.
I clearly remember my first writing workshop. Our mentor told us that ‘’order’’ is embedded in the human DNA. We see things in sequences of events, and this is primarily the reason why we gravitate towards stories.
Order has kept the human civilization intact for hundreds of years. Our society is a hierarchy of many things, and in this realm exists two kinds of power. Those that dominate and those that submit.
History tells us that the male species has occupied the dominant power for many years. According to Gerdna Lerner the author of ‘’The Creation of Patriarchy’’ published in 1986 such existence of a system can be traced back to a secular definition, that men were always dominant. But even without the notion of divine creation, ‘’male-dominated family is co-extensive with human society, that even its very beginnings ‘MAN THE HUNTER’ held sway in the social world and instituted co-operative and productive relations while his wife tended the home fires; and that this basic situation has quite naturally continued ever since (The Creation of Patriarchy by Gerda Lerner pp. 368).
But the definition of such powers only occurred 12,000 years ago with the advent of agriculture and the need to settle down.
‘’The acquisition of properties and our need to defend its power shifted to physically stronger males hence it’s passing down and the erosion of female autonomy.’’ (Source: NewScientist.com by Anil Ananthaswamy and Kate Douglas)
Patriarchy is a convoluted narrative to follow, and we must accept that this order was there because of survival. Men were taught to be apathetic, not show feelings, to be conquerors, and many more so that society can be the way we see it today.
Does that mean that patriarchy is the natural course of human beings?
“I was studying hard so that people would notice my intellect and not these things associated with femininity, constantly concealing my feelings on many occasions.”
I remember again the many lessons of my mentor in this writing workshop. He told us one of the most important components of storytelling is change. ‘’Change’’ is embedded in our DNA.
The survival of human beings doesn’t only depend on this prehistoric narrative of men being the head of the household. History also tells us that change is also a vital part of survival that pushes us to evolve.
Now the question is where do we go from here? How do we get out of the dark cave?
~ THE BOY WHO CRIED… TEARS ~
Once upon a time, there was a little boy who could not control his tears. His father told him to close his eyes forever. The little boy obeyed and closed his eyes for a hundred years. One day he hears a whisper, it was his father, crippled and weak. “Son, open your eyes. I am thirsty.’’ Once again he followed the orders. A bucket of tears started to fall and quenched the thirst of his father. “Son, go out into the world, many are also thirsty.”
The boy followed his father’s command and went out to see the world. His tears quenched the thirst of more people. Soon, barren lands and desserts were filled with saltwater. Rivers began to flow, waterfalls and streams were created, ponds were filled from the tears of the boy. Since then, everybody has lived and survived.
Patriarchy taught us that crying is not for little boys. It wasn’t only an order; it was a way of life. Crying has been associated with weakness and for many years men didn’t shed a single tear because they needed to survive.
When we cry, we are an open house, easy targets for thieves. That’s what they told us. What they didn’t tell us is that an open house gives us an avenue to invite people into our house who will protect us from thieves. That we don’t have to be alone in this.
I come from a small island province where men with multiple mistresses are protagonists and are hailed as conquerors while little boys who cry are told to shut their eyes for a hundred years. Coping was hard, especially if you’re gay. I had to conceal my open house thinking that thieves were out there to get me.
There were two memories that never left me as if they were scars. On a sunny afternoon. I was a young boy back then probably around the age of 10. I was holding my umbrella while buying something in a store when an old man came up to me and shouted ‘’Bakit may payong ka? Bakla ka ba?!’’ (Why are you holding an umbrella? Are you gay?!). It lingered in my mind - this very object, an umbrella, was now tarnished in my eyes. From then on, I refused to hold an umbrella when I am alone, or if it was not raining or not that sunny. The old man was like a thief who stole something from me.
The second memory, my sister and I bought a tea set toy, it was in the color pink. We wanted to play like normal kids. A young man approached me and with a malicious tone, he said: “Ay magte-tea party kayo? Bakit tea party??’’ (“You’re playing tea party? Why?”) He was implying something.
“This was the order of life I was born into. This was the narrative that slowly shaped me not because I wanted to, but because I needed to survive. Years, I have been thirsty for something.”
So, I closed myself. This house no longer invites people.
My father left us at a young age. So as a child I already have an issue with men in authority. When my mother together with my sister and I left the province, this idea was a baggage that I carried heavier than those that contained my clothes and toys.
Coming to Manila reinforced this idea, seeing that there were many of the men like my father and those that I have considered as thieves of my vulnerability. I was on the way to becoming like them. I was studying hard so that people would notice my intellect and not these things associated with femininity, constantly concealing my feelings on many occasions.
This was the order of life I was born into. This was the narrative that slowly shaped me not because I wanted to, but because I needed to survive. For years, I have been thirsty for something.
But just like any other story. Change is inevitable. And this happened when I met the men who conquered the cave and the men who shed their tears. Only then, my thirst was quenched. It tasted something like…
…freedom.
~ THE BOY AND THE MAGICAL ROSE ~
There was a little boy who was the son of a poor farmer. In his family, boys are taught to not speak. They were told that to become worthy farmers, one must train his body to become strong. So the little boy spoke no words, he trained for days and night, mostly carrying heavy stuff.
One day drought hit their small farmland. No water came for months and soon crops, and animals died, leaving them starving and sick. The boy realizing, he could not do anything, went outside to seek water and food. In a mysterious forest, where trees have died. The boy found a magical rose who speaks.
‘’I know why you came here. You are seeking water and food. You won’t find it here or anywhere. The sky and the earth will no longer produce anything ever since men became silent.’’
The magical rose handed him a seedling, the last of its kind. ‘’Plant this seedling. Talk to it three times a day. Give words of affirmation and the earth will bless you with crops. Once a plant emerges, talk to the clouds, and ask for water, give words of affirmation. Do this three times a day and the heavens will bless you with rainfall.’’
The little boy heeds the advice of the magical rose and plants the seedlings. He trained himself to speak words of affirmation. Soon a plant grew. He then started talking to the clouds to bless them with rainfall and soon the rain started to pour.
The single plant gave birth to more seedlings. The little boy harvested them, planted them, and did the same thing day and night until this barren land was once again green.
Joko (not his real name), who is in his early 20’s, works at a government agency. He is in a long-term relationship with his girlfriend, probably around 7 years now. My friends and I are expecting that they will be the first couple to get married in our circle.
Joko is not the type of person who says his feelings often. But sometimes, when he feels something, he isn’t afraid to express it. When we were still in college, he and his girlfriend were going through a rough patch. You’d expect that in these moments the girl is the one who will openly talk about the relationship’s condition. But Joko is the one who talks about it in a way that he mindfully tries to keep himself intact from vulnerability.
“Service is a love language that is unknown to me, coming from a broken family. The patriarchal culture was the recurring theme of my life growing up. I don’t see the men in my family as examples of lovers with passionate service. They think it’s too soft. So, seeing it firsthand is something worth emulating.”
Joko and I met way back in high school. I joined the parish youth ministry in my local church. Organizations like these tend to be patriarchal in the sense that the catholic church is run by males. In this group though, the head was female with a motherly approach. We call her ‘’nanay’’ (“mother”) while the rest of the members are like your siblings.
When I met Joko, he had this aura of a boy next door who dances to ‘’teach me how to dougie’’ types of jam and might tease and bully girls around. Not really someone I’d befriend. But when he entered the ministry, he was surrounded by flamboyant gays. He is also the one closest to them.
And 10 years have passed, he is still a friend and one of my closest, at that. He and his girlfriend bought a house in Bulacan. My friends and I would go there from time to time to drink or bond. He’d sometimes kid us that we need to prepare for their wedding. In my observation, he’s more excited about that event and he’s not afraid to be open about such excitement. Joko is so far from my father or any man in my family. He has a vision, and he celebrates it with us. I was used to men being mum about their plans with their partners. It was possible, after all, through Joko.
He also possesses diligence at work that is typically associated with women in a traditional sense. He cleans, he cooks, and he fixes stuff. I find this funny because the girls and gays in my circle are usually the ones who just sit around.
In our barkada (group), the guys are the ones who are busy with the chores. They’re not only busy with it. They’re good at it!
Like Joko, Darwyn (in his early 30s, not his real name) possesses the characteristics of the “good wife.” In his 7-year relationship with Rona (early 20s), he had been a great support system. I’ve never seen someone like him in my life. He’s the type of person that would wake up early to fetch his girlfriend. He’d wash her clothes, he’d cook for her, he’d do everything a good husband will do. He is willing to buy Rona tampons in a store and not be ashamed of it.
Recently, Rona caught COVID-19 and he was not afraid to stay with her in quarantine to take care of her for 14 days.
This characteristic is shared in my circle.
Darwyn is a generous soul who’d pick me up or my “Ate’s” (a term of endearment we use to the gays and girls in my circle which means big sister) with his motorcycle when we’re running errands or if someone needs to be fetched when public transportation fails us.
Although he came a little late in the circle, we could feel his willingness to share this one-of-a-kind love language called ‘’service’’ outside of his relationship with Rona.
Their dynamics are also something so rare. Rona is the one who is the most vocal and usually commands the direction of the relationship. Darwyn is the submissive voice who comforts and loves silently, but oh so, truthfully.
Service is a love language that is unknown to me, coming from a broken family. The patriarchal culture was the recurring theme of my life growing up. I don’t see the men in my family as examples of lovers with passionate service. They think it’s too soft. So, seeing it firsthand is something worth emulating.
“Love for them is bendable, it doesn’t adhere to the power dynamics that taught men how to survive. Their survival is dependent on love, and they show it.”
I always say this. When my father left us. There was a hole that can never be filled. A wound, so deep it gives you nightmares. But when we left that small island province into this concrete jungle, I never expected that my friends would give me so many examples of what love looks like. That it was possible to fill the hole.
Love for them is bendable, it doesn’t adhere to the power dynamics that taught men how to survive. Their survival is dependent on love, and they show it.
These are not the men who’d call me out for holding an umbrella. These are men who will not make fun of their children maliciously for simply playing with a pink-tea set toy. Imagine if there were many of them.
Just this week, my friends and I went to the campaign rally of VP Leni Robredo. Included in this event were Jake and Darwyn. Tatay Jun (as I’d like to address him; not his real name) is a close friend, in his early 30’s too. He works at a government agency in Quezon City.
I consider him as a spiritual father, adopting me when we were still new in the youth ministry. Tatay Jun’s closest friends when he entered the ministry were gays. So, it was easy for me to build a rapport with him. Not only that he is a funny person who loves theater and acting, he, too, has a long-term relationship with his girlfriend.
In this political rally, he had the loudest screams when the presidential candidate passed right in front of us. I was laughing because he was so passionate I’d never expected that he’d be so thrilled like that. In my province. men who shout like that are called out. It’s too feminine for them to act that way.
It made me remember my uncle, years ago. I love figure skating as a sport. I’d always watch it. He told me that figure skating makes me look like a sissy. He’d call me out for watching it. That’s why I haven’t officially come out to my family’s father's side because of this reason that there is already a preconceived judgment of my true identity.
When I started training for figure skating. I’d drop by this milk tea store, Tatay Jun was there and would see my skates. He’d ask questions about my training and the sport. I’d explain it to him with eyes full of wonder and I could sense that he was very much interested in how my day went and why I love the sport. He never called me out. He listened.
The men in my family, mostly, don’t listen. They just talk. But Tatay Jun was different. He was more like a father to me. Even in situations involving emergencies, he’s always on standby not only for me but for everyone in my circle.
When the father of a close friend needed an ambulance. Tatay Jun and Joko were the first responders.
When one of our closest friends died, these men were the first ones to mourn.
When things get tough, it wasn’t my biological father whom I draw strength from or even from any of my male family members. It was them.
With them, there is no need for silence or shame. With them, survival was possible without having to eliminate my feelings. They are the guests who knocked on my closed house and invited more people to protect me from intruders who want to smash my truth and authenticity… and the safe space they provided allowed me to realize that there is nothing wrong with me from the get-go.
And with that, I started to plant these little seedlings everywhere…
…seedlings that speak of affirmation.
“These are not the men who’d call me out for holding an umbrella. These are men who will not make fun of their children maliciously for simply playing a pink-tea set toy.”
~ THE BOY WHO CONQUERED THE LIGHT ~
Once there was a little boy who was born in a dark cave. His father is a shadow who taught him that the outside world is cruel and therefore, he must be cruel too. He must conceal his true feelings. He must hold his head up high and treat the world with an iron fist. He will rule.
When the little boy was ripe of age, he went outside the world but got distracted by the light. The light was so bright it illuminated his whole body. He then saw… that he has a beating heart. Thus, he learned to harness the light. And everywhere he goes, he’d bring that light to the people he encounters and shares it so that others may see that they, too, had a beating heart.
He did this for many years.
He never ruled, nor conquered anything. He never went back to the cave. The world never feared him, he was loved. And from then on they called him “HU-man”.
The survival of human beings doesn’t only depend on this prehistoric narrative of men being the head of the household. History also tells us that change is also a vital part of survival that pushes us to evolve.
Now the question is where do we go from here? How do we get out of the dark cave?
The answer is, we’re already out of the cave and we must push harder so that we don’t go back there.
