I was looking through social media when I found a photo of a standard stick shift with the caption of "If you man can't use one of these then you have a girlfriend." I chuckled, but not in the way you may think. I like the fact that I'm over anything like this. I'm happy that this doesn't have any affect on me, positive or negative.
I'll explain.
My son is staying with us now and he's this 19 year old kid who is mature for his age, yet a bit childish. Either way I'm happy that he has that childish side since he lived things rough back east, living in Detroit. There was a point where he was on his own and he learned some hard lessons on who people are, what they can be, and what they show you. It's given him a hard look to him, but just enough. Nothing permanent.
That hard look.
Overall, he's doing well here and he's on his way to starting life well. He's confident, kind, and above all not threatened. He knows what he is, who he is, has a sense of his strengths and weaknesses and understanding of what he wants to do. Thankfully he escaped the trap if MANHOOD (should be read with a flaming erection and ejaculating cars.....see the Fast and Furious for reference).
My father and I had a conversation over him one day and how comfortable he is in his skin when the question of when we felt comfortable came up in which we spoke sbout patriarchy and it can even have a negative aspect on the lives of me, believe it or not. Especially in the Latino community where the size of everything has to be big: your junk, ego, car, shoes, girlfriend's tits, your baby son's junk and so on. There is a strong abd often time heavy weight where you have to be all man all the time like some sort of Spike show with flaming tits and cat ejaculate. You get the point, brought to you by Axe body spray.
And yet, I reminded him of our line. My son plays music and is thin, vegetarian, and very non threatening. I practice several martial arts, have fought on the street and dojo, have numerous injuries to my practice and know that I may walk my later years with a cane. My face looks very thuggish from my broken nose and I carry a ln aura, if you will, of hostility and fear when in truth I'm quite the intellectual softy.
My father has been in the military, an athlete, boxer, a bouncer, bartender, gang leader back in the greaser years where you settled it with fists and with the bigger guy or "if he's shorter than you, him and his friends", and over all badass. He has an air of a Mafia Don and his ringtone on my phone for him is Sabbath's Devil's tone.
Yea, he's huge in a daunting way.
My grandfather has done much more, yet nothing expresses this loving and kind man more of the lethal predator of his age like simply stating that he was a veteran of the Mexican revolution and when my father would get in trouble his remedy was to hand over a loaded 45 and remind my father that the desert has no memory.
Yea... my sweet grandfather had a heavy hand and a no nonsense outlook to survival.
And my father hold an anger and resentment to this day. And he asked me if I hated him. I told him I used to. Not because he was a bad person, but because it seemed that is what is supposed to happen. Fathers make their sons into men and instill that hatered they need to do the same with their sons.
I didn't want to continue that cycle. I love my father. I knew we were caught in a cycle that questioned our manhood, yet I remembered waking in my crib and wanting to see him as he came back from work at midnight. I remember him raising me while my mother worked also. I was raised in a kitchen where women had no place and meals were made with love. I remember running home from school to catch him driving off so that I can wave goodbye. He left warm food and post it notes with messages that read, "study after you eat."
Even the moments when he wasn't physically there he was. And he was loving. He inspired me to break the cycle. I raised my son and daughter with not heavy hand and hugged both. I cooked and bathed and did hair in sometimes acceptable braids. I've pushed strollers, changed diapers, told bedtime stories and hid behind hands with them in scary parts of movies.
In no way would we fit into the model of manhood. So that should change. I taught the value of saying and listening to NO as well as including within the talk a section on concent and when is sex love and love sex. I told them that sexuality us broad, love is love as long as no one is hurt, and nothing would stop me loving them.
I didn't want them to use my rough and angry parts as a standard so I displayed other nurturing and kind aspects while wrestling with my demons. I wanted them to have freedom of expression, anger, and intellect while observing proper mediation ceremonies. I wanted the to question all and doubt everything until evidence proves true, including and especially me and all authority.
I wanted them to never hate me or to make excuses on my I had a cruel side. That cycle dies with me. So seeing my son embrace his creative side and pull mine out has been blissful. Finding a kinder side to me and helping me to be open to being loved and open has helped me greatly. It has brought life and hope back to my life.
So.......yea, I can't operate a stick. I tried and I'm sure I can learn if needed. Or I can just be some luck woman's girlfriend.
Either or. Whatever is best.
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