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CopperCicada · M
I’m just going to say this.
Most men are stuck in the cracks between the tectonic plates of our cultural wars.
Where does “being a man” get to be something that’s not distorted or maligned?
Where can I expect to go and talk about that, when there isn’t even a “thing” called “being a man”? and when “being a man” is like the first rule of Fight Club— you don’t talk about “being a man”?
One of the guys I visited as part of my hospice volunteer work was a Vietnam war hero. He fought off book around the time of the Tet Offensive. It wasn’t until he was dying in hospice and he was recognized for his service because it was just then declassified— that his wife had any clue what he did.
Tet was ‘68. 55 years he said nothing. The thing is he did things. There was something he could have shared. What about your average guy who isn’t a war hero. Or athlete. Or GQ model. Or CEO. The guy who is working against his betterment, his health, his happiness, to just that. Work. To survive. Or to have his family survive. Maybe through the grief of divorce, alienation, separation.
There just isn’t a place for it.
The only people in my life that have given two shits— the women in my life. My lovers. Female friends. Partners. Not other men.
Most men are stuck in the cracks between the tectonic plates of our cultural wars.
Where does “being a man” get to be something that’s not distorted or maligned?
Where can I expect to go and talk about that, when there isn’t even a “thing” called “being a man”? and when “being a man” is like the first rule of Fight Club— you don’t talk about “being a man”?
One of the guys I visited as part of my hospice volunteer work was a Vietnam war hero. He fought off book around the time of the Tet Offensive. It wasn’t until he was dying in hospice and he was recognized for his service because it was just then declassified— that his wife had any clue what he did.
Tet was ‘68. 55 years he said nothing. The thing is he did things. There was something he could have shared. What about your average guy who isn’t a war hero. Or athlete. Or GQ model. Or CEO. The guy who is working against his betterment, his health, his happiness, to just that. Work. To survive. Or to have his family survive. Maybe through the grief of divorce, alienation, separation.
There just isn’t a place for it.
The only people in my life that have given two shits— the women in my life. My lovers. Female friends. Partners. Not other men.
fun4us2b · M
@CopperCicada I read about Tet in "Hue 1968" If it was me, I'd want to just forget those memories - just put them out - how is a young man supposed to process something so far out of the realm of normal? Quite a bit for a person to carry with them all the way to the Hospice...
Maybe there isn't a place, because that's just the way we roll - just leave us be and let us work it out?
Maybe there isn't a place, because that's just the way we roll - just leave us be and let us work it out?