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DCEU v Masculinity

EDIT: This post was originally published on Creators.co on June 12th, 2017 - since then the site has now closed down.

The DCEU films to me - Man of Steel, Batman v Superman AND Wonder Woman - are actually everything that's right with the DCEU. Its narrative. How it's told, both visually and in story. It wasn't until I experienced Patty Jenkins's Wonder Woman, however, that I truly came to understand Snyder's intentions of the DC Extended Universe at large, beginning with Man of Steel (2013) and culminating with the anticipated Justice League (2017).

Have you ever wondered why Warner Bros - the same studio that gave us Mad Max: Fury Road (2015) not too long ago - placed Wonder Woman where it is in the DCEU slate, why it followed BvS and came before Justice League? Have you ever thought to realise that hiring a female director for Wonder Woman was intended from the moment Snyder laid the groundwork for the DCEU? What does 'dawn of justice' actually mean?

All the DCEU films are intricately linked and connected by masculinity, in more ways than one. And I don't refer to just male masculinity but female as well; not just white, but black; American and non-American (read: Atlantean); and human and non-human (read: Kryptonian). Even Rick Famuyiwa’s The Flash could have explored young masculinity, race and societal expectations in a culturally relevant piece of cinema.

Like what George Miller managed and succeeded with in Mad Max: Fury Road (2015), it is my belief that Zack Snyder is using the DC characters to deconstruct and challenge cinematic masculinity within the action genre, to draw attention to the consequences of unchecked toxic masculinity / traditional white [hyper]masculinity, and address the importance and power of women - mothers, wives, sisters, friends, daughters - in our world and in the lives of the men they walk.

There is no "trilogy" in the DCEU. There is, however, an interconnected transition from male masculinity to female masculinity and leadership throughout the four films and an increasing focus on the power of emotion and love, passion and compassion, diversity and, well, humanness and human kindness. All traits that, as Diana (Gal Gadot) states, are worth cherishing.

"I used to want to save the world. This beautiful place. But I knew so little then. Because a land of magic and wonder is worth cherishing in every way. But the closer you get, the more you see the great darkness simmering within. And mankind? Mankind is another story altogether."

To arrive at a destination we must first make the journey. We must make the hero's journey ourselves. We needed the darkness - needed to literally fight our way through it - to get to the light. We needed to be divided to understand what it meant to stand together. Diana says that the Amazons "are the bridge of a greater understanding between all men. Snyder, through Patty Jenkins's direction and Allan Heinberg's screenplay, implies that Wonder Woman herself - a representation of the female body - is that bridge for men in the Hollywood industry, for men in pop culture, for men in today's society and across the globe. Wonder Woman's success is a win for all - it's a win against traditional masculinity and patriarchy and it's a win for women and the marginalised of our society. Wonder Woman is not just an origin for Diana but so much more!

I intend to illustrate how my claim is supported with evidence from the literature pertaining to action cinema and the hard bodies of Hollywood from the 1970s and the Reagan Era (it's going to get very political!), followed by a discussion of how masculinity is portrayed and deconstructed throughout the DCEU films (these films are far more political than people have given them credit for!), and concluding with how this could all play out in Justice League.

Tonally, the DCEU films are right. As George Miller asks but not explicitly states in Fury Road, "Who killed the world?" we understand the answer is, "MEN!" However, Zack Snyder takes it a step further: we perceive the destructible, bleak world of men, a world without much love, without much hope. It is why on all the promotional posters, the Justice League above and the Trinity further below, it is why there's a light behind Wonder Woman (edit: although with Justice League post-Snyder marketing probably had no idea). It is why, in Wonder Woman, Patty Jenkins opens the film on Themyscira, a land so different, lush, thriving, surrounded by glistening water and built on stone. We open on planet Earth, an object we could hold in our hands like a snow globe and we hear Diana's voice.

Bare with me here: before we can get to Wonder Woman we have to discuss how Zack Snyder and Patty Jenkins have addressed masculinity within the DCEU, and to do so you, the reader, must first have an understanding of how Hollywood has handled masculinity in the past and its relationship with American politics. (Prior to my research, I have never been more fascinated with US politics.)

The 1980s saw action film after action film being produced by Hollywood, with movies such as First Blood (Kotcheff, 1982), Terminator (Cameron, 1984) and Die Hard (McTiernan, 1988) showcasing a complex interaction between narrative and spectacle while addressing societal concerns of masculinity (Ayers, 2008). These films were largely based on visual attractions, with an emphasis placed on the bodies of the white male heroes and their weapons and vehicles as much as, if not more than, the dramatic violence and hyperbolic action sequences (Gjelsvik, 2013). According to Gjelsvik, the foregrounding of the male protagonist’s hard and sculpted muscularity represented the hero’s “almost invulnerability” and their capacity to cope and overcome any obstacle or challenge they're faced with. This was your typical action hero.

It is not surprising then that this hyper-masculine heroic depiction is associated with what continues to be described as “traditional masculinity”, an ideology that found prominence in the 1970s requiring a man to be capable of withstanding dangerous situations and be resistant to weakness (Beasley, 2009). To achieve this masculinity, men also needed to be powerful and authoritative, aggressive, and willing to take physical risks where violence is involved or necessary. This traditional masculinity influenced the films Hollywood produced and the heroes they presented, reflecting and representing an ideal American hero and nation.

Action films have found popularity leading into the 1990s and remain a drawcard for cinema-goers today, however it is important to consider when this body of film started, and more precisely, why.

The 1970s, from the Vietnam War’s eventual cessation in 1975 after twenty years of conflict to the Iranian Hostage Crisis in 1979 that lasted for four-hundred and forty-four days, saw the threat of death loom over the American people and negatively affect their way of life (O’Brien, 2012). A fear, hatred and aggression rippled across patriotic America following these traumatic ordeals. The then President was Jimmy Carter, elected for being a figure outside the mainstream landscape of American politics. He was optimistic, hopeful and untainted by the Vietnam War or the Nixon-involved Watergate scandal. Despite cultivating the image of the everyman and a set of strong values, Carter grappled with the complexities of the world and the country he was expected to lead and defend. His presidency was ultimately undermined by the hostage takeover, which headlined the news and media and subsequently influenced the American people to perceive his administration as weak, negligent and incapable of leading the nation (Priest, 2009).

With the turn of the decade, however, O’Brien suggests the threat of death moved on from American society to the actual body, and according to Susan Jeffords, this move was in part propelled by the ideals and policies of Ronald Reagan’s presidency.

In her seminal work on cinematic masculinity, Jeffords (1994) asserts that there is a strong relationship between the representations of masculinity in Hollywood and Reagan’s America, a reflection of the cultural zeitgeist of the 1980s. Jeffords posits that the male bodies of Reagan’s idealistic self-projection and Hollywood’s “hard bodied action heroes forged an interdependence between actions of the nation and those of the individual” - a nationalistic crisis evolved into a crisis of masculinity and male identity.

Therefore, many people were effectively excluded from the national body by characterising them as part of the “soft body”, which included women, people of colour, homosexuals, children, refugees and academics. According to Carrier (2015), women were targeted as the cause and benefactors of the anxieties and fears experienced by American men due to their lost privileges, which were in fact more broadly caused by globalization and capitalism. Jeffords suggests that, like President Carter, these marginalised and often underprivileged sections of society were perceived by white nationalists as an internal threat to the well-being and autonomy of America, whereas the Iranian students taking control of the United States embassy in Tehran, and even Vietnamese and Soviet enemies during the war, were foreign entities who have terrorized American citizens and the nation from outside its borders.

Ronald Reagan became the hero for traditional, white America; he self-projected himself as being like the hard body heroes of the Hollywood action films, a paternalistic figure who defended and separated America’s vulnerable and voiceless from foreign, non-white bodies. The characteristics of traditional masculinity and the hyper-masculine action hero - aggressiveness, authoritativeness, a resistance to weakness, lack of emotion, individuality - were inextricably linked with Reagan’s values, presenting Reagan’s body and administration, and therefore the entirety of the American national body, as invulnerable as Arnold Schwarzenegger’s hard bodied and determined Terminator (Beasley, 2009; Carrier, 2015; Jeffords, 1994).

This invulnerability of the national body had been explored to a degree in action films involving the Vietnam War. Hard bodied heroes like Sylvester Stallone’s Rambo and Martin Sheen’s Captain Willard in Apocalypse Now (Coppola, 1979) became representations and reflections of the 'true' American heroes of the Vietnam War, as claimed by Jeffords (1994). Through cinema, Americans were finally allowed to achieve the victory and strength that was unobtainable because of the weak and ineffective government administrations prior to the Reagan era. Jeffords points out that Ted Kotcheff’s First Blood involves a dire reclamation of the masculine body by rejecting the soft, overweight body as presented by Rambo’s judge and opponent within the film. Both films mentioned involve an excessive amount of violence too; Neale (1983) expresses that male audiences repress erotic desires for the masculine male hard body by displacing the eroticised gaze upon the weapons, vehicles and choreographed scenes that create the spectacle nature of this genre. Neale further specifies that these desires are not marked by an inclination towards violence and pain, but rather a want for violent acts to be unleashed on the enemies out of hatred and fear. Additionally, the pain experienced by the protagonists, self-inflicted through training or enemy-inflicted through torture, are a means by which male viewers can distance themselves from the male body and remain traditionally masculine, keeping homoeroticism at bay (Ayers, 2008). Most importantly, however, the heroes of these films, strong and capable like Reagan’s administration and America, would rather confront and oppose enemy states and fascist empires than submit and allow them to invade and take over (Jeffords, 1994).

Action films of the science fiction genre have used invasion narratives not only as a means of entertainment but to speak about both internal and external threats towards the American way of life and autonomy. The science fiction genre has often sought to ask what it is to be human (Kac-Vergne, 2012), and like the action hard body films, this fight to stay human (or alive) can be reconsidered as a fight to retain or reclaim masculinity, specifically to answer what it means to be a “man”. This genre treats obvious fictions as existing realities to support what Combe and Boyle (2013) describe as a social normal, with the abnormal represented by the monsters, the zombies, the robots and aliens in these films. Kac-Vergne acknowledges that the genre had become a mode for hypermasculinity in Hollywood, a vehicle for addressing what’s acceptable and normal. Tasker (1993) refers to alien invasion films, The Thing (Carpenter, 1982) and Predator (McTiernan, 1987), as being part of a hybrid genre - while engaging with science fiction conventions these films balance the tropes of action cinema, which emphasise masculinity and spectacle (Johnston, 2013). Moreover, in science fiction cinema femininity remains marginalised and not “real” (Beasley, 2009); the same can be more broadly said for action cinema.

If I broke this literature down for you straight to its relevancy to the DCEU's heroes it would go like this:

In Man of Steel, Kal-El (a Superman-becoming) represents the everyman, who struggles with the power he has (and a power he even struggles to use), and this continues into Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice - politically, his ideals and character is like President Carter.

Throughout most of BvS, Bruce Wayne/Batman is essentially the traditional hypermasculine hero, a man charged by fear and anxiety due to internal/external threats on his way of life and on the lives of the vulnerable and defenceless he has promised to protect and watch over - he embodies President Reagan's hard bodies.

Wonder Woman and the 'others', as she calls them at the end of BvS - Aquaman, Cyborg and The Flash - non-male, non-American, non-white, and non-masculine (or is that highly intelligent?), represent the supposed 'soft bodies', as dictated by traditional masculinity.

Now that the background around Hollywood, action cinema and their treatment of masculinity and of any non-white, non-male, non-American or "effeminate" person (with some exceptions such as Sarah Connor or Ripley, and more recently Furiosa) has been laid out, it's time to enter the DCEU and discuss Snyder's/Jenkins's fight against traditional [hyper]masculinity and the push for more women and diversity on screen at length.

You can bet that any criticism Snyder and Warner Bros. have received about Man of Steel or Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice about character portrayals or spectacle, as well as the reviews of Wonder Woman by mostly white, straight men who've objectified and exotified Gal Gadot's appearances, has played into the DCEU's deconstruction and expression of masculinity as well as society's expectations and perceptions of masculinity and the action genre. The DCEU acts like a social experiment, an attitude measurement test, and audiences (and critics!) don't realise they're being experimented on. (Having previously studied psychology before film, this makes me as intrigued in the audience's attitudes as I am appalled at the behaviours of male critics.)

Masculinity in the DCEU

"I will honour the man you once were, Zod, not this monster you've become."

In the opening five minutes of Man of Steel we see the dichotomy of man. Russel Crowe's Jor-El, alone in front of the Council and armour-less, peacefully argues that although Krypton is doomed there is still hope, that he has held that hope in his hands (i.e. Kal-El, a child born by love and not by the machinations of a society). General Zod (Michael Shannon), on the other hand, storms in geared with guns and soldiers. He shoots the woman in power who questioned his male authority and claims that he can save the Kryptonian race by making them stronger, more assertive, by extinguishing the weak, internal degenerates that have threatened their planet.

After Zod's unchecked toxic masculinity destroys Krypton we cut to Kal (Henry Cavill), who, as an adult named Clark Kent, is a tough-looking, blue-collared everyman. Almost immediately Snyder captures Clark's selflessness on the fishing trawler - Clark doesn't watch out for himself. His masculinity, his manliness is questioned by the fisherman who keeps him from being "crushed" by a falling basket. And then when the trawler heads to the exploding oil rig, Clark has an opportunity to reclaim his masculinity. Reminiscent of the hard body action films of the 1980s Clark's body is bared. As he holds the rig to allow the chopper to escape, the camera pans down briefly to highlight Cavill's muscular body.

In a flashback to a younger Clark (Cooper Timberline), Clark's Kryptonian 'powers' suddenly dominate his senses; his X-ray vision forces his young male self to perceive his female teacher and classmate as bodies to fear, and this fear of his powers represents a fear of a hardening masculinity. This male emasculation, this emotional vulnerability even at such a young age, causes him to be othered by his peers. And when he is bullied as a teenager (Dylan Sprayberry) in front of Lana Lang, a girl he likes, she is the first to notice Clark after he saves the school bus. This approval by Lana propels him to save his bully Pete.

"There's more at stake here than just our lives, Clark; there are the lives of the people around us. When the world finds out what you can do, it's going to change everything: our beliefs, our notions, what it means to be human, everything."

Of course, Jonathan Kent is concerned about Clark's powers being known, but it more importantly connotes a form of masculinity that will be feared. Pete's mother's anxieties may be religiously motivated, but it's a fear of a potentially uncontrollable and destructive masculinity that will threaten her way of life, conservative or not. The "choice" Clark must make is not whether he should use his powers to save the human race or not, it's whether he should remain pure of heart, represent the goodness of humanity or let the hate and anger, the violence inherent in man consume him.

Man of Steel not only addresses traditional masculinity's harmful behaviour towards women, but the effects it has towards other men. In the pub Clark calls out a man for his inappropriate behaviour towards a waitress. The man, lacking Clark's stature, resorts to physical and verbal intimidation. His behaviour is approved by the other men - even the army men smile, remaining silent. The waitress steps in, keeping Clark's masculinity in check, and rather than resorting to violence Clark walks away. Instead Clark pummels and destroys a vehicle - the truck - that has played a significant part in shaping the aggressor's male identity, representative of a culture with toxic attitudes towards women. Clark, as a teenager and as an adult, is criticised for not living up to the traditional ideals of being a "real" man - authoritative and dominant, resistant to weakness and emotion, assertive and... violent.

When audiences call out Clark for being "mopey" and too emotional, they are in fact calling him out for being too feminine and not masculine enough. When Clark dons the Superman garb, it is still just a costume, nothing more. Clark understands that it is not how he is perceived that makes him a man or a hero, but how he behaves and what he uses the image of Superman for. Clark didn't give himself the name "Superman"; it was the media and the people who did. It was the people who claimed him as their hero, as their Superman, in much the same way that America elects and chooses their President.

Superman has shaped young boys' concepts of masculinity for decades, in both film and in the comics: what is ideal and what isn't. So when a cinematic portrayal of the man of steel is presented as being conflicted, unable to handle the complexities of the world he has been "called" to save against an external threat (similar to President Carter during the Iranian Hostage Crisis) then he is not their Superman, then Snyder doesn't understand - and will never - understand Superman.

This attitude is wrong.

"Be their hero, Clark. Be their angel, be their monument, be anything they need you to be... or be none of it. You don't owe this world a thing. You never did."

Superman is not a person. It is an image, a representation of something better, of what makes us good, of what makes us human. Snyder's portrayal of Superman is one of a masculinity kept in check - respectable yet respected, able to express love and yet be loved, able to be an emotional man yet be an assertive one, using his "hard body" for the right reasons, to make a change, to make a positive impact on the world. Holding onto a past Superman because of nostalgia is to be a sponsor for traditional masculinity and all that is wrong with today's conservative patriarchy. Cavill's Superman doesn't replace Reeve's Superman, he just enhances a character that has remained stagnant with old beliefs and ways of expressing. He is the Man of Tomorrow, not the Man of Yesterday.

Clark is not Superman in name alone. His suit is also apart of the Superman image. For Clark, though, that suit is associated with his Kryptonian ancestry, a demeaning representation of masculinity. For him to smile as Superman, teeth glistening, would be a fake display of happiness. The smile he produces as he saves people is one in which he must pretend to be assertive, dominant - a leader. By contrast, Clark shows his teeth when he's out of the suit, when he's just Clark Kent and in the company of Martha or Lois. There's a genuineness. Clark doesn't need to look like a leader in these moments, e.g. when Clark returns home to Martha in Man of Steel or when Clark arrives home with a bouquet of tulips for Lois (and then Lois brings up Superman and the smile fades).

Even for Trump teeth are not so freely given, as suggested by a psychologist earlier this year: “Although Trump instinctively recognises the demeaning potential of smiling, there are occasions when he is prepared to throw caution to the wind and give a full-blown smile, with his teeth on display and wrinkles around the corners of the eyes - the latter being the feature that defines a genuine as opposed to a fake display of happiness. Trump tends to produce these beaming smiles when he is in a convivial setting and when he doesn’t feel the need to look like a leader, or when he is with people whose company he enjoys.”

Don't misconstrue my intentions. I'm not insinuating that Trump is a hero or even a leader, nor do I believe Superman shares the ideals of Trump. But there's a difference between smiling with sincerity out of love and comfort and being forced to give an artificial smile because people demand it of you or because you think you're worthy of respect.

Holding onto a past Superman because of nostalgia is to be a sponsor for traditional masculinity and all that is wrong with today's conservative patriarchy.

MacInnes’s (1998) statement about masculinity as a concept is equally as relevant to Superman (and Batman and Wonder Woman etc.), that they are “shaped and expressed differently at different times in different circumstances in different places by individuals and groups”.

I jumped ahead earlier: The entire first half of Man of Steel is Clark discovering what he was sent to Earth for, learning that he's a force for change, for good. When Clark wears his suit and discovers his powers of flight, it's a self-affirmation or -confirmation that he has become someone good, not just as a man but as someone who could be a hero.

Clark then learns that Zod probed inside Lois's mind and then finds Zod threatening Martha shortly after - two women most important to Clark, two people who keep him human - Clark uses his strength against Zod. The destruction of Smallville, and then Metropolis, in the latter half of Man of Steel challenges Clark's masculinity.

When Zod's suit is damaged and becomes susceptible to Earth's atmosphere, he is disoriented. Seeing through his own armour and muscles, seeing the bones that make up his body, Zod is forced to question his invulnerability and mortality. "What have you done to me?" he asks. "My parents taught me to hone my senses," replies Clark.

There's no denying that there is A LOT of destruction, but it is caused by uncontrolled masculinity - there's no thought for anything other than the opponent. What made Zod feel powerful and assertive was having Kryptonians obey his orders. That's what made him masculine. In the end, Zod forces Clark to give in to the ultimate form of violence, the darkest act of humanity: killing. Yes, it meant saving Earth, saving the vulnerable family in that station, but to Clark it meant so much more.

With Lois there, however, Clark's violent act was justified. Lois's love, her empathy, her acceptance subsequently allowed Clark to reclaim his humanity, his individuality, the good masculine ideals instilled in him by Martha and Jonathan Kent, a final push against the toxic, immoral masculine ideals projected by Zod that would continue to consume him. Only one could survive and it was the choice Clark was meant to ultimately make.

Finally, in Clark becoming a journalist at the Daily Planet by the film's end, it provides Clark an opportunity to use words (not fists) to make the world better. He wasn't able to use words with Zod; Zod knew only violence and aggression. Like Jor-El at the beginning of Man of Steel Clark would attempt to reason through words, verbal and written, well into Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice.

Recently I’ve been reading a book by Bryan Doerries, The Theatre of War (2015), about what ancient Greek tragedies can teach us today and the relationship between story and human experience. It has also brought up many significant points for how relevant Batman v Superman is and how it is a tragedy like these Greek plays in it’s own right. But he brought up President Jimmy Carter who, in 1977, became the first American president to acknowledge that the nation’s resources and capacities had its limits. Carter said: “We have learned that ‘more’ is not necessarily ‘better’, that even our great Nation has its recognized limits, and that we can neither answer all questions nor solve all problems ... we must simply do our best.” A couple years later, Carter stated that the nation’s problems were due to a crisis of confidence due to tragedies and events, damaging the national spirit.

Argo (2012), an adaptation about the hostage takeover in Tehran, was written by Chris Terrio, so it's no surprise that he came on to rework David S. Goyer's initial draft of Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, and with Snyder they further explored the dichotomy of masculinity as started in Man of Steel.

Clark's embodiment of masculinity, as expressed through his actions and ideals as Superman, continue to threaten the men of his world. The media, the people, government bodies and even Batman question his existence and "otherness" - who he is, who he should be, and what he should stand for (in other words, an image homogenous with the President).

Clark maintains his belief in words through the Daily Planet. Instead of confronting Batman head on about his uncontrolled behaviours as Superman, Clark intends to do it in a civil manner through the power of the press. And when he is called upon by Senator June Finch (Holly Hunter), to question him on the validity of his actions, Clark walks in civilly, hands together in front of him - unlike in Man of Steel he marches alone and not handcuffed by the military. He intends to talk, which is reflective of Jor-El before the Council at the beginning of Man of Steel. The same can be said for when he confronts Batman after learning that Lex Luthor (Jesse Eisenberg) has manipulated them both - Clark wants to reason, to talk. But Bruce is far too gone....

Backtrack: After witnessing the Superman/Zod fight from the streets of Metropolis, Bruce Wayne becomes fearful about the threat Superman imposes on his way of life and the lives of the vulnerable and defenceless he has promised to protect and watch over. Although he resides in Gotham, Metropolis and its citizens are as equally as important to him, to his business, to the business his father built. Wayne Enterprises and the wealth it has generated have played a hand in Bruce's masculine identity, particularly in his identity as Batman.

Bruce/Batman, like the hard bodied and tough, hypermasculine action heroes of the 1980s, embodies Reagan's ideals. As shown in the early moments of the film, Bruce is seen as paternalistic, helping school children across the rubble and then comforting a young girl whose mother was in the Wayne Enterprises building. And so, throughout BvS, with twenty years of crime-fighting in Gotham behind him and as a witness to plenty of familial losses (his parents and Jason Todd to name a few), Bruce exerts the traditional characteristics of masculinity - aggressiveness, authoritativeness, a resistance to weakness, lack of emotion, individuality. He acts alone; his losses have hardened him and his violence knows no bounds from here on out. These traits are not only seen in his branding of criminals (internal threats) but in his attitudes towards Superman (a foreign, external threat [i.e., powerful immigrant]). Bruce believes he, himself, represents the human population and that it is only him - a man with power, status, strength, weapons and experience - who can bring down the Kryptonian.

If you think about the action films of the 1980s you would have seen Rambo and Captain Willard bleed, feel pain, stitch themselves up again but not falter, keep going, keep persisting to their goal. In just three words - "Do you bleed?" - Snyder and Terrio (and I guess Goyer) interrogate hypermasculinity. Batman, in his powered exoskeleton armour (a means to make himself more formidable), questions Superman's ability to bleed because, well, he never seems to bleed (and yet a 'nationalistic hero' like Rambo bled). Bruce defends his masculinity by attempting to oppress a figure who seemed far too masculine - Bruce wants to know if Superman is weak, if he feels pain, if he has felt pain to the degree Bruce has.

"Breathe it in. That's fear. You're not brave. Men are brave. You say that you want to help people, but you can't feel their pain... their mortality... It's time you learn what it means to be a man."

To Bruce, Superman is a fake embodiment of masculine heroic ideals, much in the same way that patriarchal, white America perceived President Carter as being. Bruce has let toxic masculinity and traditional ideals blind his world view and his perception of Superman. Masculinity to Bruce became entirely about the exterior; his inner emotional weakness suppressed deep beneath the hard body - the suit and the weapons - he has forged.

That is until Bruce connects with not Superman, the image of a [masculine] "hero" mythologised and perpetuated by the media, no, but with Clark, a person who has also experienced loss and who is about to again, someone who has been displaced, someone who demonstrates selflessness even when he is dying. It was a connection beyond the superficial, on a level Bruce never knew was possible. Bruce is reminded of who he has lost, who he loved, of someone he almost forgot because of a masculinity he hadn't controlled. In killing Superman, Bruce would have given into the darkness, the rage, consumed by a toxic masculinity as defined by a traditional world view and conservative ideals. Therefore, to find reconciliation and with the approval of a purer man - Clark (as Lois had with Clark in Man of Steel) - Bruce gets to reclaim his identity, his masculinity by rescuing Martha Kent.

Lex is unlike Clark or Bruce. He is a male wanting entitlement, power and authority, wanting to feel masculine despite his scrawny appearance (his "daddy's fists" made him emasculated). He tries to be assertive. He attempts to be authoritative. He's a person with no moral code. Senator June Finch, as well as the metahumans, are a threat to his manliness, his masculinity, so he disposes of them the only way he knows how: manipulation. The manipulation of Wallace Keefe, a man who even himself has been emasculated ("I can't even piss standing up"), to wreak havoc at the Capitol and the manipulation of Zod's body, failed masculinity, to birth Doomsday - these are the consequences of when toxic masculinity goes unchecked.

Although Man of Steel indicated that one type of man (masculinity) must die for the other to live, in BvS Superman sacrifices himself to kill Doomsday because he has learnt that there are people that love him (Lois, Martha, and men who approve of him, like Bruce) and to truly destroy the consequence of unchecked masculinity he must push through the pain, his ultimate weakness (the Kryptonite) - to bring hope, light and be reborn. But when that toxicity kills a man pure of heart, when Doomsday pumps his black blood into Superman, will Superman return in Justice League as himself, guided by ideals nurtured by the Kents and Lois, or as a Kryptonian bound by blood, as Zod said he would.

Will his good nature and ideals win out? His humanity? Or will his body determine what sort of man he becomes? His blood?

It harks back to the scene in Man of Steel with Clark and Jonathan arguing, Martha in the back seat of the car observing:

Clark: ... I just want to do something useful with my life. Jonathan: So farming and feeding people, that's not useful? Clark: I didn't say that! Jonathan: Our family's been farming for five generations, Clark -- Clark: Your family, not mine. I don't even know why I'm even listening to you. You're not my Dad. You're just some guy who found me in a field.

As much as I like to see traditional masculinity attacked in film, it's also extremely powerful and heart-rendering to see female masculinity grace the screen as well, with a strength or set of powers and character that have been attributed to traditional masculinity, or in the least not seem less feminine simply because they're taking on or adopting traditional societal norms of men. We have experienced a powerful woman before in Man of Steel, but while Faora was produced through the machinations of Krypton to serve for war, Diana was created by Zeus to defend mankind against war.

From Diana's heart-pumping introduction as Wonder Woman in Batman v Superman to her gladiatorial combat in the mid-point of her origin film with No Man's Land, she exerts her strength as a warrior and her determination as a person, never showing weakness - she was taught to be all these things on Themyscira. To speak to today's gender norms around "male" sports, activities or expressions, Hippolyta only doesn't want to lose her daughter, but she fears that her daughter will be unable to remain pure of heart if Diana becomes "masculine" and susceptible to the corrupted hearts of men. When Diana discovers some of her power for the first time when battling Antiope, Hippolyta isn't fearful of the powers; she's fearful that Ares will learn Diana has powers and a strength that only Ares believes is inherent in the gods - men - but that she still holds onto the values of love and compassion, duty and equality that have forged her as an Amazon, the true powers of women. What No Man's Land and the second act of Wonder Woman shows is that Diana can be both: she could be naive yet be strong, she can love and be compassionate yet express fury, she could be a warrior and show emotion.

In these moments I cried. My gender doesn't come into play, nor does my sexuality; rather it's seeing a reflection of my sisters, of my mother on the screen. I saw myself in Wonder Woman as much as I have seen myself in Superman.

Like Furiosa to Max, Wonder Woman is more experienced in combat and war than Batman and especially Superman, but she fights alongside them as an equal. The final fight shows that for society to break down social gender norms and traditional masculinity there will only be success if we work together, and that mankind (men and women) will need to sacrifice what makes them masculine but also use that masculinity to show true humanity and make the world better (Superman, Antiope and Steve Trevor present this physically). It's why Wonder Woman leaps at the end of her film - in her life Steve was the only man who showed that... until Superman. She departs the plane in BvS because men cannot defeat what they have created.

As the more feminine Diana Prince in BvS, she threatens Bruce's manliness, in much the same way Finch threatens Lex's. "Oh, I don't think you've ever known a woman like me." Bruce's assertiveness and dominance doesn't concern her; she's fought against the same toxic behaviour and traditional masculinity with Ares, the same kind Finch has most likely come up against in her own career.

But even then, people have complained about how Diana dresses as Wonder Woman. Why can't women be able to express their femininity yet wield masculine traits? Why can't she be beautiful and assertive? Why can't she bare skin, such as her thighs when men's hard bodied musculature bodies have dominated action cinema? To these people, Diana is not being traditionally female, much in the same way that Clark as Superman has been called out for not being traditionally male.

Masculinity is not only attributable to men, but women, too. As is femininity.

In Wonder Woman, Steve and his band of misfits, comprising of Sameer, Charlie and the Chief, all struggle with the masculinity they've traditionally meant to express. Charlie, for example, is haunted by ghosts when he sleeps, and when Diana goes to comfort him he pushes her away and storms off with his gun. It is after they experience Diana's strength and power, do they share their feminine traits: Charlie sits at the piano and sings, Sameer shares his desire to be an actor, the Chief denies the offerings by the Veld townspeople... and Steve learns to love.

I could have distilled all of the above, but I needed to address everything. I'm most likely forgetting about a number of other ways that masculinity is challenged in the DCEU - such as, which I will discuss below in regards to the importance of women in these films, following Jonathan's death and Clark's becoming of Superman, it was up to Martha to care for the farm, it was up to Martha to fulfill both motherly and fatherly roles for Clark. Even within Suicide Squad, masculinity is addressed by the characters of Amanda Waller and El Diablo, for example.

The Importance of Women in the DCEU

The DCEU's fight against traditional masculinity begins on Krypton with not Jor-El, but Lara (Ayalet Zurer). Man of Steel opens with her face, giving birth to a child that will become all that is good. It is Lara who becomes the bridge to a greater understanding between men, launching the pod. When Zod is ordered to spend eternity in the Phantom Zone it is to Lara, standing with the Council, that he yells, "I will reclaim what you have taken from us", in other words, reclaiming masculinity. In hard body terms, if Krypton is the national body, then Kal is the individual body who was to save them.

Lara's final words before the consequences of unchecked masculinity implode Krypton: "Make a better world than ours, Kal."

Jumping to nine-year-old Clark at middle school who's fearing his powers (and therefore his masculinity), it is his human mother Martha Kent who helps him understand that if he ever gets caught up in the perceptions of the world, in a society dictating how he should feel or act, that who he is is more important to those who love him. Martha is that person who will guide him to being a better self. Interestingly, as Clark became a teenager the advice came from Jonathan; yet following his death, and then well into BvS, it is Martha who advises Clark on what to do.

Although Martha remains the compass of Clark's journey into selfhood and manhood, it is Lois throughout Man of Steel that wants his identity, his type of masculinity to be known. Lois becomes Clark's guide for how to express his masculinity as an adult. Both Lois and Martha are the only two people who keep Clark from giving into the darker side of man, into the toxic masculine ideals forced upon him by Zod. It is these two people that he shares his genuine smile with.

There have been complaints about Lois's role in Man of Steel. For example, why does Lois board the scout ship when ordered by Faora on behalf of Zod? I used to think it was for plot convenience, to fulfill the screenplay's beats, but now I believe it's because Zod wanted to learn what it is to be human from someone connected to Kal, so that Zod can crack Kal's resistance to the Kryptonian way of life - the dominant way of man. Lois keeps Kal from giving into his Kryptonian blood, from a potentially destructive side simmering within. Jor-El understands this as well; when Lois's pod is damaged and hurtles for Earth, Jor-El says to Kal: "You can save her, Kal. You can save them all." Lois is as much apart of Clark's masculinity as Martha is, and it is them in which hope will shine through, not the man himself.

There have also been complaints that Lois and Martha as being convenient to Clark's narrative or that they're always portrayed as damsels-in-distress. But in the context of masculinity, in a world dominated by men and in a world being destroyed by men, Lois and Martha do the best they possibly can with what they have available to them - which is their love, their peacefulness, their use of words. When Lois is persuading Perry to allow her to investigate the bullet she looks at Clark who catches himself from speaking for her, but Lois manages to finish herself - she was her own white knight. Neither Martha nor Lois are threatened by men - Martha did not feel threatened by Zod nor was she in distress with Anatoli Kynazev (she doesn't scream, which is why Clark would be unable to hear her voice). It is the consequences of unchecked masculinity that stop them from doing what they've set out to do and accomplish: Lois's quest to help Clark prove his innocence or Martha wanting to raise a morally good son regardless of his power. To elaborate, Lois puts herself in danger and 'enters' the domains claimed by men (e.g., travelling to Nairomi to interview a terrorist) so that she can alleviate the public's fears back in Metropolis around Superman - even the CIA don't trust her relationship with Superman by sending a male in 'James'. Lois constantly puts herself in "man's world", such as the men's bathroom to speak to Swanwick; when Swanwick's authority and the state's actions are questioned by Lois, Swanwick resorts to questioning her reliability as a woman and her relations with Superman. Lois is willing to risk her job to discover the truth; Swanwick would rather keep his position of power. When she reaches the Capitol or goes to retrieve the spear, it is the consequences of Lex's uncontrolled actions that obstruct her goals, first the explosion and then secondly Doomsday.

Since his parents' deaths, Bruce has always lacked a stable female figure in his life - he insistently talks about his father yet can only dream about his mother. Bruce had a fatherly role model as he came of age in Alfred, but never a motherly one. His father's ideals - assertiveness, aggression (as seen just before Thomas is shot or the fact that his ancestors were hunters) - feeds into Bruce's masculinity. Unlike Clark, Bruce only matured with the male masculine. He sleeps with women and forgets about them. He even tries his ways with Diana but his attempts are ignored by her.

Diana, on the other hand, is more balanced than either of them - she came from an island of women who demonstrated both feminine and masculine traits. What Themyscira shows is the harm social gender norms play in the shaping of our ideals as humans, and that within a patriarchal world of traditional values it is women who will pave the way forward to a brighter, more balanced future.

On a related note, it was revealed by the Hollywood Reporter towards the end of May that Zack would be stepping down from finishing Justice League following the death of his daughter, Autumn, in March.

If Martha and Lois mean to Clark what Deborah and Autumn mean to Zack, then...

Zack believed he could overcome the despair, the loss of his daughter, in his work. Yet the pressures of his job as a director and producer, as a leader, got the better of him. With his films showcasing the importance of women in the men's lives and the love and comfort they bring, it would have been impossible for Zack to ignore the very messages he has been conveying. He almost gave in to the traditional masculine ideals he worked hard to break. Toughness. Resistance to weakness. Lack of emotion. Endurance and strength.

So like with Clark, it is Zack's family - Deborah and his children - that give him the strength to continue making these films, even through all the criticism and all the hate.

Zack has become my Superman as much as Patty is my Wonder Woman and Patty is my Superman as much as Zack is my Wonder Woman.

The DCEU films matter to me. These characters matter to me. Zack and Patty's tireless work matters to me. They matter to who I am; I may not believe, even still at 24, that I'm masculine physically (I've never been physically aggressive or assertive; I've never acquired masculine confidence because I've never received approval for my masculinity from other men; I'm not muscular, not tall, have short legs and wears glasses; I read, I write, love theatre, have danced, hate the gym) but these films have taught me it's how I act, how I behave, how I am towards others that define my masculinity, not as a man but as a human being.

These films have highlighted the importance of my mother and sisters in my life. BvS made me think about my mum and Wonder Woman made me think about my sisters - I cried during both. And although I may have matured without a stable male role model, I've become who I am today because of these women, not because of some traditional social ideals.

We have a Batgirl film in development, as well as Gotham City Sirens and a sequel for Wonder Woman, but what could we expect from Justice League if all the above is true?

Mad Max: Fury Road barely broke $400 USD million worldwide. Yet it was still successful because of what it held. For Miller to go from producing a little independent Australian film with unknowns in the '70s to a modern Hollywood masterclass in masculinity and action cinema, do you really think Warner Bros. is concerned only about how female characters perform at the box office? It's a good incentive alright and definitely an achievement - as I write this, Wonder Woman is tracking well better than Fury Road did overall in just its second weekend - but a film's worth, its messages and who it inspires, are far more important than the worth it accumulates.

What does this mean for Justice League?

Man of Steel gave us a glimpse of what may happen if Kal lets his Kryptonian blood take hold. Zod showed him that.

In Batman v Superman the Knightmare sequence shows us a post-apocalyptic future if Superman became what Zod wanted him to be. It's a possible future of Kal giving into the blood and rage because of the loss of Lois, who is his hold on humanity. Even at the end of BvS, even after Clark dies, he is fighting to hold onto that humanity. Lois is the last person to throw dirt on his coffin, which then rises.

I don't believe we'll see much of the black suit in Justice League, but what there may be is a final push for Clark against the dominant masculinity as dictated by the Kryptonian blood flowing within him. However, Lois may not be the only person who will help him - Wonder Woman, The Flash, Cyborg and Aquaman will fight for him and believe that he can change. These other 'heroes' are individuals who represent sections of people in society that have been oppressed or othered by a patriarchy and would understand Superman's plight - displacement, isolation, loss - as if it were their own (edit: in Justice League Kal El uses his heat vision, which harks back to young Clark at school unable to control his abilities). It is they who will finally make Clark feel like a leader. For so long he was ostracised for what made him different, but to then have others who are also different but ultimately remained good would make Clark feel like he finally belonged. He will then smile, teeth glistening.

To add to this, in the official Justice League trailer and even the first look presented at San Diego Comic Con last year it is Bruce who goes and recruits Arthur Curry and Barry Allen. Bruce lets Arthur use his dominant, threatening display of masculinity and it is through words - "I hear you can talk to fish" - instead of strength that may make Arthur come on board. With Barry, on the other hand, Bruce uses his money and gadgets to compel Barry to join. In the comic con footage it seems that, although Bruce brings the league together, it is actually Diana that orchestrates it all. As for Victor Stone, I believe Diana will be the one to convince him, using her compassion and love.

If we bring Hippolyta's (Connie Nielsen) tale of the war of the Gods from Wonder Woman into play it is pretty much a representation of the invasion to come - it actually is the tale of the first invasion as she then goes on to tell Diana that it was just a story (edit: Ares was not “bad” at first and it was he who had the final blow on Steppenwolf, but was then used as a pawn and someone to fear by Zeus to protect the Mother Box).

Therefore, looking at the broader picture of the DCEU, Diana will lead the 'others' - Batman, Aquaman, The Flash and Cyborg - against the invasion of Darkseid's parademon army in Justice League and to stop Clark/Kal from losing what makes him human and compassionate and good. This is why Wonder Woman is not just an origin for Diana.

It's why the only word Zack Snyder could say about her success is 'proud' (source). His true intentions of the DCEU became its success. Audiences will come to see Diana in a ground-breaking turn as the leader of the #JusticeLeague.

I'm gonna bet there'll be many great female-driven moments in Justice League and Wonder Woman has already had white, straight men complaining. If this understanding of Zack Snyder's magnum opi (with powerful work by Patty Jenkins) is any indication to go by, a heck of a lot of damage is going to be done to the patriarchy come November. Justice League will be a superhero, action film for the ages - a film for everyone.

References

Ayers, D. (2008). Bodies, bullets, and bad guys: Elements of the hardbody film. Film Criticism, 32(3), 41-67.

Beasley, C. (2009). Male bodies at the edge of the world: Re-thinking hegemonic and â€œotherâ€ masculinities in Australian cinema. In S. Fouz-Hernandez (Ed.) Mysterious skin: Male bodies in contemporary cinema, (pp. 57-76). London: Palgrave, Macmillan.

Carrier, M. B. (2015). Men and the movies: Labour, masculinity, and shifting gender relations in contemporary Hollywood cinema. Retrieved from Ohio University Thesis and Dissertation Services, https://etd.ohiolink.edu/!etd.send_file?accession=ohiou1430322393&disposition=inline

Combe, K. & Boyle, B. (2013). Introduction: Of masculine, monstrous, and me. Masculinity and monstrosity in contemporary Hollywood films (pp. 1-26). New York, NY: Palgrave Macmillan.

Deakin, P. (2012). Masculine identity in crisis in Hollywoodâ€™s fin de millennium cinema. Retrieved from Manchester eScholar Services, https://www.escholar.manchester.ac.uk/item/?pid=uk-ac-man-scw:172532

Gjelsvik, A. (2013). From hard bodies to soft daddies: Action aesthetics and masculine values in contemporary American action films. In K. Aukrust (Ed.) Assigning cultural values (pp. 91-106). New York, NY: Peter Lang AG.

Jeffords, S. (1994). Hard bodies: The Readgan heroes. Hard bodies: Hollywood masculinity in the Reagan era. New Brunswick, New Jersey: Rutgers University Press.

Johnston, K. M. (2013). Science fiction film: A critical introduction. London: Bloomsbury Publishing.

Kac-Vergne, M. (2012). Losing visibility? The rise and fall of hypermasculinity in science fiction films. InMedia, 2, 1-15.

MacInnes, J. (1998). The end of masculinity: The confusion of sexual genesis and sexual difference in modern society. Philadelphia, PA: Open University Press.

Neale, S. (1983). Masculinity as spectacle: Reflections on men and mainstream cinema. Screen, 24(6), 2-17.

Oâ€™Brien, H. (2012). Action movies: The cinema of striking back. London: Wallflower.

Priest, A. (2009). From Saigon to Baghdad: The Vietnam syndrome, the Iraq war and American foreign policy. Intelligence and National Security, 24(1), 139-171.

Tasker, Y. (1993). Masculinity, politics and national identity. Spectacular bodies: Gender, genre and the action cinema (pp. 91-108). New York, NY: Routledge.

Film References

Berg, J., Johns, G., Roven, C., & Snyder, D. (Producers), & Snyder, Z. (Director). (2017). Justice League [Motion picture]. USA; Warner Bros. Pictures.

Coppola, F., & Aubry, K. (Producers), & Coppola, F. (Director). (1979). Apocalypse Now [Motion picture]. USA: United Artists.

Feitshans, B, (Producer), & Kotcheff, T. (Director). (1982). First Blood [Motion picture]. USA: Orion Pictures.

Foster, D., & Turman, L. (Producers), & Carpenter, J. (1982). The Thing [Motion picture]. USA: Universal Pictures.

Gordon, C., & Silver, J. (Producers), & McTiernan, J. (Director). (1988). Die Hard [Motion picture]. USA: Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation.

Hurd, G. A. (Producer), & Cameron, J. (Director). (1984). The Terminator [Motion picture]. USA: Orion Pictures.

Kennedy, B. (Producer), & Miller, G. (Director). (1979). Mad Max [Motion picture]. Australia: Roadshow Film Distributors.

Kennedy, K., & Wilson, C. (Producers), & Spielberg, S. (Director). (2005). War of the Worlds [Motion picture]. USA: Paramount Pictures.

Miller, G., Mitchell, D., & Voeten, P. J. (Producers), & Miller, G. (Director). (2015). Mad Max: Fury Road [Motion picture]. USA: Warner Bros. Pictures.

Roven, C., & Snyder, D. (Producers), & Snyder, Z. (Director). (2016). Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice [Motion picture]. USA: Warner Bros. Pictures.

Roven, C., Snyder, D., Snyder, Z., & Suckle, R. (Producers), &. Jenkins, P. (Director). (2017). Wonder Woman [Motion picture]. USA: Warner Bros. Pictures.

Roven, C., & Suckler, R. (Producers), & Ayer, D. (Director). (2016). Suicide Squad [Motion picture]. USA: Warner Bros. Pictures.

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iambraiden-blog · 10 years ago

Text

Why we need more men like Andrew Smith.

Boys are less likely to share their feelings and emotions during adolescence, preferring to hide them or withdraw.

Boys are afraid to be honest.

Boys are afraid of admitting outwardly that they’re sad or that that they fear something, whatever that something may be.

Boys are afraid to admit that they like certain girls or that they like other boys.

Boys are afraid to admit that they’re wrong, that they’re right, that they have no fucking idea.

Boys are afraid to admit that they’re failing.

Boys are afraid to admit that they just don’t know how to express what they’re thinking, what they’re feeling, and even why.

Boys are afraid of admitting, of sharing, of believing for fear of being ostracised.

By friends. By schoolmates. By brothers and sisters, by parents. By colleagues and strangers.

For fear of being treated differently.

For fear of doing something wrong, for saying something wrong.

For fear of looking weak.

Of being ridiculed for what they do or say.

Society and popular culture reinforces the behaviour that men should be self-reliant, heroic. Men should be fearless, resourceful, strong. Men should face whatever’s in their path alone.

That is the ideal male.

That is the type of male boys want to be, to become.

Many boys have experienced gentle fathers who were emotionally distant growing up, who rarely, if ever, cried or expressed affection outwardly.

Other boys have experienced abusive fathers growing up, punished for expressing their feelings and thoughts because boys should be men.

Fearless men.

Resourceful men.

Strong men.

And other boys have not had the presence of a father figure growing up.

Yet boys still look up to them as we look up to the heroes that grace the comic strips.

So boys, in most cases, act, pretend, keep everything bottled up, even well into adulthood. This withdrawnness could very well lead to catastrophic circumstances, unable to seek help when they most need it.

Boys fear a multitude of things.

But what many boys and men fail to do is take the risk of showing vulnerability, of sharing their weaknesses with people who they feel safest with.

And now this is where I get to Andrew Smith.

Andrew, in an interview of a number of interviews and articles and promotional material for The Alex Crow, was asked rather ignorantly a question that quite blatantly made a divide between books for boys and books for girls. Moreover, that Andrew’s books are missing good female representations (this is where I say to get yourself a copy of and read Stick or 100 Sideways Miles).

Andrew agreed that he was trying to do better. He admitted that his work was missing strong female characters because he simply did not understand women.

But the fact of the matter here is:

Andrew Smith revealed ALL – his painful youth, his rollercoaster journey as a published author, his love for the kids he teachers, and more – in a wonderfully written and responded Entertainment Weekly article by Anthony Breznican.

He discussed the themes inherent in The Alex Crow:

“It’s not only that idea of control, but the control that it’s so masked behind this façade of compassion, but ‘the real reason that we’re doing this is because we’re really nice,’ and really that’s not it at all,” Smith says. “The book is really about the failure of male-dominated societies. Every single one of these male-dominated societies is really misguided, a failure—the survivors on the boat, too. They just think that they’re doing something that’s good and really, they’re not. They’re just steering themselves off the edge of a cliff somewhere.”

He shared his life’s journey with us, something that the article stated he rarely ever did – and I, as a supporter of his work and the person that he is, have even experienced that in the way he expresses himself over social media and how I perceived Andrew in various videos he did.

Andrew gave himself permission to be human, to bring himself closer to others, to bring a sense of relief. He felt he was safe enough to share.

He shared because he felt apart of a supportive and kind community.

In 2011, Wall Street Journal columnist Meghan Cox Gurdon caused an uproar in the YA world by publishing this scorching essay that singled out one of Smith’s fantasy novels as particularly dangerous.

That was The Marbury Lens.

Smith wasn’t alone among YA authors criticized in that piece. But he felt alone.

The Wall Street Journal article sparked myriad blog posts, became a topic for conversation at places like NPR and Salon, and was overwhelmingly rejected as pearl-grasping alarmism by many librarians and readers, young and old alike. But Smith, who had spent his life trying to be a good parent – at least, a better one than the ones he had – and trying to improve the lives of the young people in his classes was crushed by the accusation that he may actually be hurting his readers. He didn’t believe it, but that didn’t matter. It still hurt.

“That was a thing I definitely lost a lot of sleep over, and I got really depressed about it,” Smith says. “I was ‘damaging young people.’” Some of his supporters didn’t help his state of mind. “The thing that bothered me just as much was the reaction on social media from other people, from writers and stuff, that was just mean,” he says. “They were using obscenities, they were calling her terrible, terrible names, and, again: We need to elevate our discourse sometimes, especially if we want to have an actual academic discussion about something that probably is deserving a good, open discussion.”

His publishing career had lasted three years. That’s when he decided it should stop. “I was so fed up, that I was going to quit at that point,” he says. Winger was not yet released, but had already sold. Smith decided he wouldn’t quit writing, but he would quit publishing. “I left the agency that was representing me,” he says. “I just came back home, went up into my office that summer … and that’s when I wrote Grasshopper Jungle.”

Andrew wrote The Marbury Lens as a means of expressing himself and the world he grew up in, feeling that his work would hopefully be accepted for what it held but not what it was.

He was writing for the kid he was, writing for the boys (and girls) he felt are or were in similar circumstances.

But he and his work were ostracised (along with a number of other authors).

I’m glad that wasn’t the last of Andrew, of his writing. and I’m glad that he wrote Grasshopper Jungle as a means to escape from the pain he was experiencing, the ridicule for writing something that was labelled wrong and dark and painted out as hurting the very kids he adored – Andrew’s a teacher after all, that loves teaching.

And then we look to the barrage of decry over Andrew’s response to a badly worded and thought-out question.

And Andrew answered in the only way he knew: by being honest.

He was honest.

A virtue he has instilled in his novels, from his debut novel Ghost Medicine all the way to Winger and now The Alex Crow.

Andrew did what very little men do:

HE ADMITTED.

He admitted that he struggles.

And then a horde suddenly manifested out from a community he felt most safest in.

THAT is the very fear that boys have.

THAT was the very fear that I had.

THAT is the fear Andrew now has.

Once again.

This is only an assumption due to Andrew distancing himself away from social media.

(And this is where I, at 11:30pm Australian Eastern Standard Time in writing this, began crying.)

Throw around how sexist the comment was. It was very clearly a man feeling safe to admit that he needed to do better.

Andrew’s name was definitely NOT thrown around lightly, too.

It was everywhere.

And he became someone – through people’s own misconceptions and self-perception – completely different to who he is, who he was, who he believed he was.

To take a couple lines of an answer and have it interpreted on that alone, does affect his character in the eyes of people who ONLY read those lines quoted and whatever is being attributed or misattributed to it, including from people who don't know him or his books,

He became a scape goat for feminism in literature to be heard.

And if that means crushing how someone expresses themselves in their work and as a person, I want no part of this world.

Feminism is meant to be positive. It’s meant to equate to change.

But how do you make change when you only see everything from a singular point of view.

This is not political.

This is not a debate.

This is a matter for us as a collective to discuss, as a community, no matter what we promote individually. This is a group effort.

Literature is an art form like any other about expression, expressing how we individually (and collectively) see the world, see the people around us, see the strengths and weaknesses that make us human, to reflect on the past and build a better future.

Expression is the very thing that is being forgotten here.

if ONE MAN is not allowed to express themselves for fear of being called out by women for doing something wrong, and vice versa, then how are we as a community able to move forward?

If ONE MAN is unable to write a book about the failure of male-dominated societies, and still be criticised for being a MAN, than how are we to move forward and change?

I’m still learning how to express myself. I have yet to feel happy with anything I write.

Nine books in and Andrew is still finding ways, however inventive and clever and well-written, to express himself.

If you’re a woman and have a husband or boyfriend or son and you ask them how are they feeling and they shrug their shoulders and give you a one-worded answer, it’s because they don’t feel they have the support they need to express themselves and say how they feel.

But Andrew gave us much more than a word.

He gave an answer.

He shared his life.

And that’s why we need more men like Andrew Smith.

I can write female characters if I want to. Nobody says I can't write excellent female characters. I live every day of my existence with females. I went to an all-boys private school and I don’t have even one close male friend (only females). My father moved interstate when I was 13 and I never felt like I had someone to look up to.

I still don’t have the courage to say ‘I love you’ (to my father) because I still feel like I don’t matter in the larger picture and have not found a way to express my anger, or my affection, too.

I know I’m distant when we’re together. That is something I try to fix.

I write to express myself, to express my own need to feel that male friendship or bond I never felt I had. And if there’s a lack of females that’s a problem I see but subconsciously omit. Because whatever I write is from a natural source, the source of emotion and expression, and I’m male, your female, we’re humans, so what.

But that doesn’t make me blind.

I observe and I write. That's all we do to make sense of the world around us, in a fictional or real setting. We're always learning. Forever trying to understand.

But as a bookseller, I write books DIRECTED for boys (there's no STRICTLY FOR there) because I feel that more is still needed to be done. And Andrew Smith was an author who came at the time - now more widely recognised - who managed to not conform to any expectations. He wrote what he believed he needed to write to improve his craft and what would be different enough to attract readers of any nature.

Thankfully it was boys he was writing for the most (once again no STRICTLY FOR).

To boys who felt that they could not experience happiness again, to boys who feel like they do not belong, to boys who like both guys and girls, to boys who feel unwanted, to boys who feel different.

We all matter, some more than others (doing special needs work in Tanzania has always been on my list of things to do).

Boys and girls.

Expression is universal.

Expression is life.

Don’t take that away.

We are all trying to be better, to do the best that we can do; we're not all perfect, and we're not all good guys.

-------

After I witnessed Andrew’s dismissal from social media I wrote an email to him:

I miss your presence. You inspire me to be better, to believe in myself, to believe that my writing is worthwhile. It wasn't until I read the Marbury Lens at the end of 2010, the first book I read of yours, that I realised there was something seriously missing in young adult fiction: content that challenged teenage readers beyond what was just strictly there on the page. You showed me through your stories that not conforming to society's standards was okay, that I could write whatever I wanted, write whatever stories I wanted to tell. To not let anyone dictate what I can or cannot write, can or cannot think, can or cannot say. From then on I've looked up to you, respected you, seen you as a guardian for the type of work you produced. And I still do. You've never let me down with your stories. I hope that doesn't stop. I believe in you and your work.

I’ve read a number of posts from both sides, but I felt like the inherent nature of men and women is significantly missing.

I’d like to add something else: the publisher and editor of Grasshopper Jungle and The Alex Crow is a woman. A wonderful woman at that.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

UPDATE (3:45 a.m.):

I’m losing sleep.

So I thought I’d give an update, one that unquestionably gives a reason to why I had to write this post in the first place.

No one sees the problem. Because there are too many problems. And they all blur. And the lines leading between the problems blur even more.

I’ll tell you that I cried.

And cried.

Because I was feeling the exact same way that Andrew had. I had a difference of opinion, I spoke it, I wrote this god-fucking-awfully-personal post, and I get crapped on.

I get bullied.

Personally attacked like I don’t give two cents about women.

I am made to think that I am worthless. That my opinions don’t matter against hers.

It’s hypocritical at best.

I have never been that student to raise their hand to answer a question or share my thoughts on something. I have a fear of being called wrong, of being made guilty for thinking a certain way.

And I know I’m not right. I never said I am. It’s impossible to be right.

But to be attacked?

No. Not in my books.

Having been bullied in school, especially in my older years, it stings just a bit more, especially with the bullying permeating through social media and into the physical school environment.

I found myself mocked shortly after by Rebecca Schinsky, affiliated with Bookriot, on Twitter - many of the tweets are now removed.

(I must add I also work in a female-dominated environment. I attend publisher roadshows and I wouldn’t even need all my fingers to count how many men there are as booksellers.)

Ms Schinsky said to Justina Ireland something along the lines of, “maybe if some of their friends are women [some awkward smiley face]” in response to men not understanding what constitutes as a good female character.

Now that was a clear mockery of the social environment I, as an individual – a male individual to add emphasis – had no hand in creating. It just happened that way. I socialise with girls more. My mum even knows that. She hates that I don’t have a group of male friends.

I hate that too (but I’m lucky to have the female friends I do).

But to mock me? To ridicule me? That was just cruel.

And then I point it out to her:

Justina Ireland just got in the middle of it at that moment. Unfortunately you don’t see Ms Schinsky’s tweets but I have what she barraged me after this:

The fact that it pertained to my feelings, she made it an attack. And @’ing me? Clearly, she was trying to shut me down.

And I never, not once in this whole debacle, approved of any threats being made. It’s unfortunate that it has happened from both sides.

She says she gets it and then tells me to get some perspective.

Would she say the same thing to people battling with depression and other forms of mental illness, in some cases leading to suicide because no one is listening to them, as their feelings are made insignificant because people like Ms Schinsky are telling them to get some perspective? I don’t know. That’s what baffles me.

This is how people come to the point where they don’t know how to ask for help.

They abandon their existence.

I paraphrased the above from an Australian YA novel coming out from Random House Australia next month titled The Pause by John Larkin. It involves suicide and the sadness that not being brave enough to speak out brings.

I’m wrong for listening to women? What/Who does she want me to be? I’m confused. I’m tired.

A coworker of mine at the bookstore is a feminist. I listen to her - she calls them rants. I listen to it all. We discuss. I agree. I disagree. I agree. I disagree. And then the next day I ask her for her opinions on something else. And the whole cycle starts again.

So, you know what, I’ll accept Ms Schinsky’s failed attempt at snark.

At the end of this I felt defenceless, vulnerable, and unworthy of so many characters in a tweet.

in my state, I had a passing thought of wishing that perhaps I could be someone else. Start anew.

Be a perfect man.

But perfectionism is not what I strive for.

I strive for tolerance, for kindness, for honesty.

Facebook post 1 hr ago:

just feel like I have this weight on my chest now. That whatever I say has no meaning. That whatever I feel means nothing. It's not a great feeling.

Facebook post 1 hr ago:

And here I am at the kitchen bench now saying 'Fuck, Braiden. Get it together.' But I can't. I can't get it together. Because I was singularly made worthless.

My initial post was meant to resonate with anyone that has been made to feel lesser, not just by men or women, or by other children, or brothers, or sisters, husbands or wives and any other possible type of person there is including politicians and other people with authority.

The update is an example of what will happen if you speak out, for expressing your feelings, male or female. And that’s something I’m not afraid of now.

I haven’t done this to be vindictive. I’m not that kind of person.

I haven’t done this to play the victim. Because being the victim sucks.

I’m just appalled.

I’m appalled that no one has won and that no one will ever win.

Feminism is good. Feminism is a movement for equality. But don’t forget what Equality actually means. It means the inclusion of all voices and all opinions of all types of people across status, rights, and opportunities.

That was the real thing that was missing. There was no equal.

I want equality. But don’t shame me for being male. Don’t shame anyone for who they are.

UPDATED END (5:40 a.m.)

#keepyakind #keepyaweird #andrewsmith #boys #expression #men #thealexcrow #grasshopperjungle

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