Standing up for someone has long been a lesson that fathers have imparted to their sons. There is an idea that confrontation is part of being a man. Standing up means a great deal to a lot who subscribe to ideas that to be a man, or a boy of any worth, you must be ready at all times to stand up for the weary and the weak.
This idea has been built up to be a “noble cause”; something of a chivalrous nature.
We have taught boys that they need to be spring-loaded to confront or fight others, which also teaches them that they can fight anyone as long as they can justify it with their masculinity.
When a boy or man stands up for a woman and is ready to fight about it, it continues the cycle of male dominated thinking.
“I’ll punch you in the face for calling her a name” = “She clearly cannot fend for herself, so I’m going to step in and save her.”
What if she did not need saving? What if she can make that decision on her own?
We know that destructive masculinity is rooted in aggression, dominance, and violence. When raising boys, we’re masking these tendencies as the righteous good when we teach boys to stand up for others.
I was taught this lesson by my father and it was reinforced by all other male figures in my life: a man stands up for women or those smaller than himself. I learned that this was a man code for those “weaker” than myself, which was everyone, except the bully I was going to have to beat down.
This would come to fruition several times in my boyhood, into adolescence, and even as an adult.
The most galvanizing moment was when I was an adult at a grocery store and I noticed a woman and a man clearly arguing about an issue that seemed to be escalating as it drug on. The man appeared to be visually much larger and hulking over the woman who was physically unassuming.
My male-monkey, masculine programming kicked in and I immediately stepped up next to the woman and listened for approximately 1.5 seconds before butting in. In my process of “white knighting” this human and coming to her aid, I inadvertently stepped in front of her and took away the conversation, letting the man know he was overstepping his bounds.
The man took his shopping cart, and unkind words, and vaulted himself in the opposite direction. I looked toward the woman and asked if she was OK. To my surprise, she had a look on her face that was less than gracious, as if I had stepped on her foot and not stepped in to help.
She made no bones about letting her feelings known regarding my perceived superhero move to save her. She asked who I was, and then before I could answer her, she very poignantly asked why I did what I did. I paused, baffled by the question. Then, she very clearly and calmly stated what she felt about the situation that just transpired. Her words hit like a punch as she stated,
“I didn’t ask for your help!”
Before I could say anything, she went her own way. I left the grocery store that day thinking how ungrateful she was to have my help and then poo poo on it! Didn’t she know I was preventing her from certain doom from the hands of one of the bad guys?!
It wasn’t until years later (because my programming is that ingrained) that I got it, as I was confronted by a similar situation as a father.
My son came home from school one day and told me a story about a young girl on the playground. He had perceived that she was being picked on by another boy, and without asking he jumped in a pummeled the other boy, landing him in trouble by the recess monitor. When I asked him why he jumped in, he said it was his duty….
Because I had taught him to stick up for those that needed help.
When I asked him who he thought he had to help, he simply answered “everyone”. I had effectively made my son the recess vigilante where he thought it was his duty, and more importantly his right, to help whoever he viewed needing his services. Inadvertently, I created a paradigm where my son was following the same male, monkey, masculine patterns that keep everyone else down who is not qualified.
I reflected back to my own experience in the grocery store and realized I had done the same to the person I felt was my duty and right to help. She did not ask for my help and did not need my help. By stepping in and overshadowing her with my overly masculine presence, I took away her power and control of her own life and inserted myself as the savior.
I realized as a father if things were to change, I had to change, and I had to show my son what that change looks like.
Putting things in the box of masculinity and expecting that a boy, any boy, is equipped to stand up and be ready to confront others is expecting a boy to conform to a very rigid idea of masculinity.
Standing up for others often turns into physical aggression and socially is accepted as one attempted to step in a protect the other. Standing up for others is often painted as stepping in; stepping in between the aggressor and the vulnerable and being the champion of the just. This is a romantic notion of something just and noble.
The belief is that all things inferior need to be saved. The inferior = all thing not male.
Breaking the cycle of perpetual misogyny is breaking the cycle of thinking that everyone needs saving. What we need to be teaching the boys, all boys, and specifically white boys, is that “standing up” means taking someone’s power away. “Standing up” means standing in front of and making the person you’re standing up for disappear in your shadow.
Standing up, standing in front of is not the answer.
Standing by someone’s side means asking them if you can help. It means asking how you can support them. These questions allow the person to maintain their personal power and feel supported.
Instead of teaching boys to “stand up” for those in need, teach them that they do not have the right to step in and take control of another person. Instead, teach them to stand WITH, stand NEXT TO, and if asked, stand BEHIND others who need support.
