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Boys to Men Newsletter
Mother/Son Relationships
January 2011
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May 14, 2011

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In This Issue...
A Word from the Executive Director

Writings by Mothers
     From the Boys to Men Mothers Advisory Committee
     Haiku of Boys
     Princess Lego
     Black Enough
     A Mother's Nighttime Confession
     Two Poems
     Letting Go
     The Miracle of You
     Real Boys Do Cry - And Play Dress-Up
     Mother and Son
     The Unplanned Path

Article of Interest
     Being a Mama's Boy: Good for Your Health?

Program Spotlight
     Boot Camp for New Dads

Events of Interest
     Alfie Kohn Presents...May 5, 2011
Executive Executive Director's Column

As I read the thoughts, hopes, reflections and two boys and a frogunbridled words of love that these moms have expressed, it became clear. I understand, as they do, that these children - our sons, grandsons, nephews and students - are precious beings. What happens when so many born with so much emotion, so much compassion, surrounded by so much love, find themselves struggling to display any emotion short of anger? How do we juxtapose the innocence, adventurous spirit, and warmth of these children with a world dominated by male violence? The words of these mothers should serve as a reminder that our boys come to us with an enormous capacity for love and emotion! The fact that this love and emotion is often stifled and overpowered by deep sadness, anger and sometimes violence is a reflection of a culture in contrast to a preexisting condition. The words of these mothers should solidify our underlying philosophy that boys are not broken, but rather we, as a culture, have much work to do! I hope that these poignant poems and essays will warm you and inspire you as they have me.

 

Many thanks to the Mothers Advisory Committee and all of the moms who contribute to this wonderful work.

 

Drew Wing

Executive Director

Boys to Men

MAC The Mothers Advisory Committee



Welcome to the January 2011 Newsletter of Boys to Men. This edition is published by the Mothers Advisory Committee. We were formed over two years ago by Layne Gregory, the founding director of Boys to Men, to be a sounding board for issues related to being mothers of boys and to give maternal input and inspiration to the work of Boys to Men in reducing violence. In May, 2010 we organized a conference for mothers of boys, and in November 2010 we held an evening session on aggression and young boys.

 

Boys to Men is looking for new ways to involve both moms and dads in making our work more effective and widely known. If you would like to  become more involved please contact Drew Wing, Boys to Men's new Executive Director, at drewwing7@gmail.com

.

Many thanks to the women who wrote for this newsletter. These pieces reflect the personal experiences of the authors, and do not represent the views of Boys to Men.

 

Margot Milliken and Anne Hallward, Co-chairs, Mothers Advisory Committee


Haiku Haiku of Boys

Haiku of Boys

By Barbara Ginley

I-pods hum and drone
my sweet dervishes whirling,
letting go of all

Hogwarts on the mind
feet off the ground, he flies
high on his nimbus

The smell of their hair
a fleeting hug, out the door
precious few moments

Barbara lives in a Portland in a house full of boydom with one husband + two sons + one good ole dog.
Lego Princess Lego

Princess Lego

By Eden Millecchia 

 

lego darth vaderWe are Lego crazy here at the monkey house. It is to be expected, given that two of the monkeys are five year old boys. Sam wants to collect all the new dice games. Leo is obsessed with Star Wars, but also likes to collect Space Police, Atlantis and Power Miners. And he is practically in tears waiting to get his hands on the brand new, just released Ninjago. Newsflash: There are no female characters in these games. No tough girls fighting alongside the men. Not even girls as prizes to be saved or won in battle.

 

When he was four, Leo was a Disney princess for Halloween. He spent all year collecting jewelry, dresses and mini dolls (all Disney characters). For a while the boys at preschool let him be princess Leia in their games. But he kept telling me the boys were bugging him about all the "girly" stuff. He told them "I have it because I like it," but he often complained that they just didn't understand. Then came the day when they wouldn't let him play anymore. I knew these kids' parents; they weren't narrow-minded, intolerant people--quite the opposite. One boy had two mommies. Yet those boys all knew that Leo's choices were not acceptable.

 

So Leo made a choice that worked for him. He wore only "boy" clothes to school and saved the pretty stuff for home. I was sad. I wanted him to feel comfortable exploring the masculinlego fairye and the feminine. But he's a little boy who wants to be liked and have friends, so he made a wise choice that didn't limit his options.

 

Last October his dad made him a fantastic costume: Lego Darth Vader. Yes, my five year old boy who has never seen a Star Wars movie or cartoon is obsessed with Darth Vader. Whatever the hook is about that guy, he's swallowed it. But he recently grabbed a pink fluffy hoodie on the way out of Target. And last week he asked me why there weren't any fairy Legos. I said that was a very good question. He said maybe everybody already bought them.

 

Eden Millecchia lives in Cape Elizabeth with her husband Drew and two monkeys. Twins Sam and Leo are five. Eden is currently a full-time mom who writes about Legos and gender identity issues. 




Black Black Enough

mom and son 

 

Black Enough

By MamaC 


I can't wait to tell you Sam,
that when you were just two
one of my very black students asked me
why I went
all the way to North Carolina
to have you.
I can't wait to describe to you the look on that student's face when I told him
that I didn't have you like his mom had him, but that your birthmother placed
you in my arms in the hospital in North Carolina on Christmas Eve as she smiled
bravely and kissed you.
Oh. What? He asked. And then,
It's not that I thought you were black black he proclaimed.
But I thought you were black enough to have him.
Black Enough.
Black enough?
True I wondered if I was black enough
to walk through the door of Cordell's barber shop that first time six months ago
to get your black and curly hair cut properly, what would they think of me?
And I can tell you that I am just
black enough to keep walking in that door, where all the men in that barber shop,
who have never asked me my name Call you by yours- Hey Sammy my man- and What's
up boss?
They ask you
as you strut
right
up
to Cordell's chair to demand
a lol-i-pop
for a line-it-up
and black enough to notice
as they stare at me
and stare at me
as if by looking
just a little longer
I might become
black enough to them too.
Black enough to notice that
now I own
many more brown and bla
ck sweaters and shirts and brown corduroys too because I
must want you to think I am a little more black and a little more like you Black
enough Sam to know that I'll never be black enough and because of that I must
never forget that you are.

*Copyright May 2007 All Rights Reservedby Mama C

Catherine Anderson, mother of two boys age six and three, AKA MamaC, writes about adoption, race, and raising boys on her blog, Mama C and the Boys
Nighttime A Mother's Nighttime Confession

A Mother's Nighttime Confession

By Jenny Green 


sleeping familyWhen it comes to parenting my three year old son, Will, I have a confession. He sleeps in our bed. I didn't mean for it to be that way, but he has never been a good sleeper. As the second born, he's always been quite laid back and easy going in general about everything else, but sleeping through the night is just not his thing. My husband and I have not had our bed to ourselves for a full night since we can remember and sleep deprivation is something we are on a first name basis with. While struggling to figure out how to improve the quality of parental shut-eye in our household, I find myself torn between the popular advice of making him stay in his own bed ASAP and how much I secretly love when he snuggles up to me in the middle of the night and whispers, "Can I sleep with you, Mommy?" What can I say? I turn to mush! There is something incredibly wonderful about holding my precious son in my arms, kissing his forehead tenderly as he sleeps peacefully, and knowing this won't last forever because he's going to be grown up all too soon. For those simple reasons alone, I think I'll wait yet another night before I revisit ways to sleep "better."

Jenny lives in Cape Elizabeth, Maine, with her children ages 5, 3, and one on the way.
TwoPoems Two Poems

Yellow Cloak

By Catharine Murray 


The other day I was driving down a little street in the neighborhood, a
shortcut, I thought, in my endless quest to save a minute or two for
something
i don't know what.
And I saw a tree standing
branches upraised and entirely bare.
At its base around it in a spreading circle was its cloak of yellow
like a
woman's garment dropped suddenly
that had floated gently but so quickly to the floor.
the leaves, all the same yellow, were bright and soft
but completely hopelessly disconnected from their
mother, now naked and suddenly bereft.

In the rushing frantic kids-to-pick-up moment
when I saw that tree
I thought
That's how I felt when Channie died.
Arms lifted
naked
what happened
Where is the warmth and beauty
that I always had
where the wind whispered and
the light shimmered
where the tiny infinite
movements against my
skin interpreted the air
and darkness
now I am only bare and bony
bark wet and cold
in the wind and rain
Why am I still standing with
all of me exposed and winter
coming?

November 9, 2010


FIRST THING

By Catharine Murray 


In the morning darkness when I'm meditating
in front of your brother's picture
your brother, forever 6 and a half in our house,
the one you loved with a fierceness and depth
undented by any thought that he would ever leave you.
I hear your alarm clock, the tinny sound of silly music
that you set early because you like to have enough time in the morning
to
dress and eat and pack your lunch.

You come down and wordlessly climb into my lap
just like you did at one and two
quietly molding your warm body into
the curves of mine.
No matter that you're so much bigger now
and the place above your upper lip
is dark with the beginning of soft whiskers.
No matter that in just a few months you'll be
taller than me and driving a car.

You still let me hold you like the baby you are to me.
You know that it's right for me bury my nose in the back of your
neck and tell you how good you are.
Your yawns come steadily
as you relax into the solid mothering we all will always need.
I'm so glad you are smart enough to know you
still deserve to feel the immensity of your mother's love
on just a regular morning.

Catharine lives in Portland with her husband and their two sons. She is a teacher, tutor, volunteer
coordinator and importer of fair trade products. She is currently writing a memoir about her son's illness and death as well as a collection of poetry. She can be reached at info@loommoon.com
LettingGo Letting Go

Letting Go

By Jen Fox

     My son turns 14 this year- hard to believe. I vividly remember changing his first diaper at home without the watchful eye of the hospital staff. I desperately hung onto the nurses' every word and marveled at their diapering and swaddling skills. So there I was, 25, my baby at home and I have no clue. Am I really supposed to keep this little guy safe for the next 18 years? Oh lord, where is the instruction manual?
     Eli was a fussy baby. He cried six hours a day for four months straight. It goes without saying that he needed a lot of soothing. I was one of "those Moms." I co-slept with my babies and I nursed on demand. Oh, how wonderful to wake in the night, feel his soft body, his sweet breath, and like a magnet my lips would draw near his head and I would take a deep breath of that baby scent. I think if we could bottle it, world peace would prevail on Earth. In these moments I felt I could keep him safe forever. This was my heaven.
     Fast forward: Eli is six years old. Shy was an understatement when describing Eli.  We felt one more year would give him the "edge" a boy needs when facing the rough world of Kindergarten - those five year olds would eat him alive. God help us if his table mate couldn't share his crayons as I was not afraid to call a meeting with the teacher, nip it in the bud. I would later be known as the "Mom that never kept her mouth shut." I prefer to call myself a pro-active Mom, God forbid a "helicopter" or "a hovering gnat." How I stressed over these "trivial" interactions. I just wanted to keep him safe, free from hurt. If he wasn't invited to a birthday party, I could just take him to get ice cream and a movie. It was so easy then. I could fix it.
     I am entering a new dimension of Motherhood now. I walk on unfamiliar ground. My sweet boy, the one that used to hold my hand, reach for me when he was scared, look for me when he was hurt, has now started to travel within as he becomes a teenage boy. It is no longer me he reaches for; it's the approval of his peers. I'll stretch my arms out for a hug; he hesitates but eventually yields for a quick pat on my back. I say "I love you," and he answers "Yeah, uh... thanks, me too." This strange chasm is a distance very unfamiliar for a co-sleeping, hovering gnat. I stand back; he walks away as he morphs into a squeaky voiced man-boy.
     I know what is next; I've been there myself: heartbreak, staying out past curfew and the terrifying experimentation. I sit patiently like a watchful hawk on a limb wishing I could scoop him up and keep him safe. But it is not to be, the boy is now a part of the world. I pray my love and guidance keeps him walking the line, that he hears my voice when he has a tough choice. I hope he feels my ghostly hand on his gently guiding him away from harm.
     The world is awaiting him; he is a gift, a gift from God. First to me, and now to be shared with the world. My son taught me the meaning of love. I hope he knows and walks this Earth with the knowledge that he is truly a gift. Of course my parenting days are not over, just very different. Motherhood, I have found, is a series of letting go; I just wish it wasn't so hard.

monarch butterfly


Jen Fox lives in Freeport with her children Eli 13, Zoe 12, and Ava 8
Miracle The Miracle Of You

The Miracle of You  

By Laura Burrill


Did you know, little boy,
That you are my Beautiful,
My awakening to life,
My throwing caution to the wind,
My proof of purity and purpose,
My rose colored lens,
My timeless moments,
The fleeting years sliding through my fingertips.

You are my Teacher
My animal adventurer,
Traipsing through the woods,
Worms are squishy "Let me show you",
My brilliant astronaut,
Blasting off into the unknown,
The antithesis of trepidation, determined and aware.

You are my Hope
Watching you extend a hand to a friend,
as he starts to falter on his climb,
"Come here, friend, I will help you",
Splash your altruism and love,
On the world's harsh canvas,
People matter.

You are my Fears
Climbing higher and higher,
Out of reach you go,
A giant among your critter friends,
"Look at me, mom."
I'm watching son, always,
Keep reaching.

You are my Harmony
The rhythm of your clumsy feet,
My ears follow your journey,
Down the stairs, faster and faster
Racing through the hallway,
Running into my arms,
Your soft breath singing softly with the beating of your heart.

You are my Tears
Tidal pool explorer,
Net in your hand,
Hunting for treasures,
Feeling your nose hit,
Wanting those two seconds back,
So I can stop your fall.

You are my Beautiful
The brilliance of color,
Across my life's sky,
The love in my heart,
That keeps the glass half full,
Enveloped in moments that matter,
The miracles of you.

Did you know, little boy,
That you are my beautiful,
Son of mine,
A boy barely four,
Press your footprints deeply upon the sands,
May no tides erase your mark.
Your smile is everywhere,
In everything beautiful.

photo of son


Laura lives in Portland with her four-year-old son, Dylan Thomas, and her husband of thirteen

years, Derek. After ten years as an educator, Laura is currently taking a hiatus from teaching to spend her days exploring the world with her son.
RealBoys Real Boys Do Cry (And Play Dress-Up)

Real Boys Do Cry (And Play Dress-Up)

By Sarah MacLaughlin

     Last October 1.5 million people clicked on blogger Nerdy Apple Bottom's post, "My Son is Gay." The article, about her five-year-old son dressing as Scooby-Doo's Daphne for Halloween, made national news. As someone who wants to raise an emotionally literate, open-minded, feminist son, I read with rapt attention.
     You can read the post online, but the upshot was that the boy's costume was balked at upon his arrival at preschool for the annual parade. His attire was not called into question by the other kids, as had been his worry. No, it was the other moms who clucked their tongues and asked, "You let him wear that?"
     It begs the question: Why are we so afraid? I am not worried by the possibility of my son being gay, with one exception. Some people are so intolerant of homosexuality that they would purposefully harm him.
     Why do we continue to perpetuate the stereotypes that require our little boys to "suck it up" and "be a man"? If a child is gay, asking them to hide feelings will not make them any less gay. Don't we want our children to be at ease with themselves? I am comfortable with my son's honest expression of emotion. I want him to be fluent in the full range of human feelings.
     Recently, my son discovered a pair of my grandmother's old clip-on earrings. He was so excited to be able to actually try on a pair. I watched him shake his head back and forth-delighting in the sensation as they swung back and forth on his little ears. Even though they pinched a little, he refused to take them off until naptime. When he awoke, he asked to put them back on right away.
     Later, before we headed into the grocery store, I told him that dress-up time was over. I soothed my own cowardice with a story about how I wouldn't let a little girl wear such grown-up earrings in public either.
     Nerdy Apple Bottom has her son's back-she's got guts. Do I? Do you?

son with clip on earrings


Sarah is a parenting educator and author of the book What Not to Say: Tools for Talking with Young Children. She lives in Windham with her husband and two-year-old son, Joshua.

MotherAndSon Mother and Son

Mother and Son

By Anne Perley

my dear sweet boy
my little one
you swept me awayholding hands
stole my heart
showed me what true love finally is

my dear sweet boy
the love of my life
the life of my love
the light of my universe

such a little man
such a big burden
be a boy - be a man
it's just you and me

never leave me
always love me
take care of me
become the man I wish I had met years ago

Anne lives in Portland, with her 6 year son Izaac.
Path The Unplanned Path

The Unplanned Path

By Susan Stark

a walk in the woods


     I had always planned to have a daughter. I suppose I wanted a daughter because I thought she would be like another self: someone who would like to do the same things I liked to do; someone who would see the world the same way I saw it; someone who would understand me, and I her, perfectly. So deep was my desire for a daughter, that I even chose a name for her more than a decade before I conceived a child: I planned to name her after my two grandmothers, Hannah and Rose.
     Many years later, when I was pregnant for the first time, I was shocked to learn that my baby was not a girl, but a boy. How could this be, I asked myself? It seemed that the universe was not cooperating with my plan. Surely, I thought, my next child would be a girl.
     Once again, according to plan, I easily became pregnant when my first child was only 15 months old. A few months later, I was again surprised to learn that I was having a boy. The disappointment at this knowledge did not abate as quickly as it had during my first pregnancy. Nonetheless, we adored our children, and we had always wanted more than two children, so I consoled myself with the thought of having three or even four children. Surely our third (or fourth) child would be a girl.
     I found having two children to be far more challenging than having one. I worked hard to establish close connections with my children; I cultivated empathy and tried hard to understand them. I read and thought a great deal about being a parent, and worked to be a thoughtful, informed, and conscious parent.
     Even amidst the hard work of parenting, I found it delightful to be with and raise my children. But always, just below the surface, lay a sadness and even resentment about the gender of my two sweet, wonderful and exuberant children. Somehow I thought that I could not have a close connection with them because they were boys. I thought that I could not share with them my experience of being female. I thought that I could not understand their energy and their way of being in the world, because they were male and I was female.
     I was open about my feelings with friends who I knew would be understanding. Perhaps, I thought, I could move past these feelings and come to accept the gender of my children. But in my heart I knew that I did not really want to accept the gender of my children; I simply wanted to have a girl.
     After a few years, we wanted to have a third child. Again, I got pregnant easily. My compassionate friends were sure I was having a girl; one even gave me an unabashedly feminine pink outfit for my soon-to-be newborn girl. We decided not to find out the sex of the baby until the birth. But at 30 weeks, we learned that a problem with the placenta would require the baby's premature birth. We then decided to find out the baby's sex. I was again disheartened to learn that the baby was a boy. Having a premature baby is frightening and disorienting. But even amidst this swirl of emotions, my disappointment at not having a girl remained significant.
     We were fortunate that our baby, though small, was healthy. After a few weeks in the NICU, he came home and has had an otherwise healthy childhood. But over the next months and years, despite my profound love for my children, I continued to be unable to accept that I would not have a daughter. We considered adopting a girl and considered using reproductive technologies to choose the sex of a fourth child. Though these are wonderful options, both paths involve significant financial expense as well as some uncertainties. Simply our consideration of them enabled me to quantify the depth of my
desire for a daughter. At the same time, however, I was ashamed, because I had three wonderful children who I could not fully appreciate because of my inability to accept their gender.
     Then, when my youngest child was almost two, a friend died of breast cancer. She was my age exactly and had a son a few days younger than my second son. She had been diagnosed with cancer when her son was 18 months old and died only three and a half years later, a few days after her son began kindergarten. She lived and died with grace, somehow accepting this unjust fate with aplomb.
     As we travel through our lives, some of the truths we learn are trite. But their banality does not make them any easier to accept. Some truths stare us in the face for a long time before someone or something enables us to really accept them. I realized, or rather, I took it to heart, when this friend died, that life sometimes gives us terrible, unfair realities that seem impossible to accept. And I saw that mine was not one of them.
     I now feel grateful for the children I have. I appreciate them as individuals. And I appreciate their male-ness. I value it intrinsically, because it is part of who they each are. I also realize that I can be close to my children no matter their gender. I can teach them about what it is like to be a female; and I can understand their way of being in the world regardless of our different genders.
     Of course, I may never know what it is like to raise a daughter. And I cannot fully know what it is like to be a male. There will be things that I will never completely understand about my children - this is true not only of their gender but of a great many things. I accept these truths. But more importantly, despite what many of us were taught about the value of planning our lives, I now see that there is at least as much wisdom to be found on the unplanned path as there is on the paths we (think we) plan.

Susan lives in Falmouth, Maine with her husband, Frank and their three wonderful sons, Aidan (8), Bryan (6) and Soren (3). She also teaches philosophy at Bates College.
Article Being a Mama's Boy: Good for Your Health? By Eben Harrell
Time Magazine
August 27, 2010

Being a Mama's Boy: Good for Your Health?

By Eben Harrell

Being a mama's boy, new research suggests, may be good for your mental health. That, at least, is the conclusion of a study presented at the annual meeting of the American Psychological Association by Carlos Santos, a professor at Arizona State University's School of Social and Family Dynamics.
 

Santos recently conducted a study that followed 426 boys through middle school to investigate the extent to which the boys favor stereotypically male qualities such as emotional stoicism and physical toughness over stereotypically feminine qualities such as emotional openness and communication, and whether that has any influence on their mental well-being. His main finding was that the further along the boys got in their adolescence, the more they tended to embrace hypermasculine stereotypes. But boys who remained close to their mothers did not act as tough and were more emotionally available. Closeness to fathers did not have the same effect, his research found.
 

Using a mental-health measure called the Children's Depression Inventory, he also found that boys who shunned masculine stereotypes and remained more emotionally available had, on average, better rates of mental health through middle school. "If you look at the effect size of my findings, mother support and closeness was the most predictive of boys' ability to resist [hypermasculine] stereotypes and therefore predictive of better mental health," Santos says. He adds that his research did not examine why a close mother-son relationship differed in its effect from a close father-son bond, but he suspects that fathers use stereotypically male behaviors to guide their sons into adulthood. "It could be, men see close relationships with their sons as an opportunity to reinforce traditional gender roles," he says.
 

So what's wrong with learning to stop sniveling and "be a man"? Research has shown that stereotypically masculine traits such as autonomy and toughness can make men less likely to seek medical help when it's needed. At the same time, close emotional connections and relationships can provide a sense of safety and emotional security that can reduce stress and foster good health. In one famous study, participants standing at the base of a hill judged the hill's gradient to be considerably less severe when standing next to a close friend; the researchers concluded that humans find life's challenges less daunting when they have close interpersonal relationships. But adolescent boys tend not to take advantage of that fact.
 

"Boys have unbelievably deep relationships with other boys," says Niobe Way, a professor of psychology at New York University and author of the upcoming book Deep Secrets: Boys, Friendships and the Crisis of Connection. "But then at adolescence they feel this pressure to 'be a man.' That can be damaging. It's right at the age of 16 that suicide rates go way up among males. I say, somewhat tongue-in-cheek, Growing up can be bad for your health."
 

In Santos' research, he asked boys to rate the importance of statements designed to measured how much they value the qualities of autonomy, emotional stoicism and physical toughness. For example: "It's important to talk about my feelings with friends"; "Fighting others is something I have to do to prove myself"; "If I have a problem, I take care of it on my own." Participants were from different racial and ethnic backgrounds: 20% were African American, 9% were Puerto Rican, 17% were Dominican American, 21% were Chinese American, 27% were European American and 6% were of another race or ethnicity.
 

He found that boys from all ethnic and racial groups tended to adopt masculine stereotypes at roughly the same rate. "That was striking because even in the [scientific] literature, ethnic minorities are often portrayed as hyper-masculine versions of their white counterparts. That may be because the research has focused on delinquency and violence. But among ordinary boys, I found no differences."
 

Despite the growing popularity of evolutionary psychology - which argues that male and female brains may be wired differently - Santos believes male adoption of hypermasculine traits is influenced primarily by culture. Certainly, as Way points out, attitudes about what constitutes typical male behavior have changed drastically in the past century. "In the 19th century, male friendships, as evidenced through letters and historical documents, were explicitly intimate," Way says. "On middle-class honeymoons, it was not unusual for the man to bring not only his bride but his best friend along."
 

Sharon Lamb, a professor of mental health at the University of Massachusetts at Boston, believes she has identified at least one cultural influence that pushes adolescent boys toward hypermasculine traits: modern superheroes. At the same conference that Santos addressed, Lamb presented the results of a survey of 674 boys ages 4 to 18 that showed how deeply they were saturated with images of action figures.
 

"There is a big difference in the movie superhero of today and the comic-book superhero of yesterday," Lamb recently wrote in a press release about her research. "Today's superhero is too much like an action hero who participates in nonstop violence; he's aggressive, sarcastic and rarely speaks to the virtue of doing good for humanity. When not in superhero costume, these men, like Iron Man, exploit women, flaunt bling and convey their manhood with high-powered guns."
 

To Way, however, the action figure is just one part of a wider cultural embrace of hypermasculinity that is, she believes, paradoxically related to America's growing acceptance of homosexuality. "I suspect it's a backlash to the recent enlightenment surrounding the acceptance of homosexual men," she says. "There is an increased rigidity to gender stereotypes in the name of demarcating who is and who is not gay.
 

Both Santos and Way believe that such gender stereotyping is lamentable. Way says, "We have come to view fundamentally human attributes such as empathy, emotional skills and the desire for intimate relationships as being girlish or gay. They are not girlish or gay skills - they are human skills, or at least they should be." The more boys take that to heart, the healthier they'll be.


BootCamp Program Spotlight: Boot Camp for New Dads

image: Boot Camp for New Dads video

Boot Camp for New Dads is a three-hour class that brings together fathers-to-be, or "rookies," a coach, and "veteran" dads, who bring their three-to-nine month old babies to the class. In addition to discussing topics that range from pet safety to post-partum depression, the "rookies" are given the opportunity to get some hands-on experience as they learn how to hold and pass a baby, soothe a crying infant, and change a diaper. One Boot Camp participant said: "[Boot Camp is] the singularly best thing I've done to prepare for fatherhood."

EventsEvents of Interest

Alfie Kohn event