Joseph Gelfer Editor Masculinities in a Global Era International and Cultural Psychology

International and Cultural Psychology Series Editor: Anthony J. Marsella, Ph.D.

Series Editor Anthony J. Marsella

For further volumes: http://www.springer.com/series/6089

Joseph Gelfer Editor

Masculinities in a Global Era Editor Joseph Gelfer Monash University MCD University of Divinity Melbourne , VIC , Australia

ISSN 1574-0455 ISBN 978-1-4614-6930-8 ISBN 978-1-4614-6931-5 (eBook) DOI 10.1007/978-1-4614-6931-5 Springer New York Heidelberg Dordrecht London

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013934704

© Springer Science+Business Media New York 2014 This work is subject to copyright. All rights are reserved by the Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifi cally the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfi lms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed. Exempted from this legal reservation are brief excerpts in connection with reviews or scholarly analysis or material supplied specifi cally for the purpose of being entered and executed on a computer system, for exclusive use by the purchaser of the work. Duplication of this publication or parts thereof is permitted only under the provisions of the Copyright Law of the Publisher's location, in its current version, and permission for use must always be obtained from Springer. Permissions for use may be obtained through RightsLink at the Copyright Clearance Center. Violations are liable to prosecution under the respective Copyright Law. The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specifi c statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use. While the advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication, neither the authors nor the editors nor the publisher can accept any legal responsibility for any errors or omissions that may be made. The publisher makes no warranty, express or implied, with respect to the material contained herein.

Printed on acid-free paper

Springer is part of Springer Science+Business Media (www.springer.com) Contents

Introduction ...... 1 Joseph Gelfer

Part I Theoretical Models

New Directions in Gender Role Conﬂ ict Research ...... 17 Cormac Ó. Beaglaoich, Kiran M. Sarma, and Todd G. Morrison Will the Real Joseph Gelfer Please Stand Up: Multiple Masculinities and the Self ...... 53 Joseph Gelfer

Part II Masculinity and Stability

Youthful Warrior Masculinities in Indonesia ...... 69 Pam Nilan, Argyo Demartoto, and Agung Wibowo Men of Honor: Examining Individual Differences in Masculine Honor Beliefs ...... 85 Donald A. Saucier and Jessica L. McManus “Men Are Hard … Women Are Soft”: Muslim Men and the Construction of Masculine Identity ...... 101 Asifa Siraj

Part III Masculinity Under Negotiation

Making the Global Bhadralok: Bengali Men and the Transnational Middle Class in India ...... 119 Saayan Chattopadhyay

v vi Contents

Better Men? Gendered Culturalized Citizenship in Male Emancipation Projects in the Netherlands ...... 137 Iris van Huis Fluid Masculinities? Case Study of the Kingdom of Bahrain...... 159 Magdalena Karolak, Hala Guta, and Neva Helena Alexander Masculinity in Ambiguity: Constructing Taiwanese Masculine Identities Between Great Powers ...... 175 Ying-Chao Kao and Herng-Dar Bih Historical Sediments of Competing Gender Models in Indigenous Guatemala ...... 193 Brent E. Metz and Meghan Farley Webb

Part IV Sexuality

Hypospadias, the “Bathroom Panopticon,” and Men’s Psychological and Social Urinary Practices ...... 215 Stephen Craig Kerry Cannibals and Ghosts: Forms of Capital, Immobility, and Dependence Among Former Javanese Sex Workers in South Bali (Indonesia) ...... 229 Matteo Carlo Alcano Transgender Identity and Acceptance in a Global Era: The Muxes of Juchitán ...... 247 Alfredo Mirandé About the Authors ...... 265 Index ...... 271 Introduction

Joseph Gelfer

Globalization

I was born and raised in England, although haven’t set foot in the Old Country for a decade. I did my Ph.D. in New Zealand. I currently live and work in Australia. This introduction is for a book commissioned by a colleague in Hawaii I have never met, and administered from the New York offi ce of an international publishing company historically based in Berlin. And I don’t really consider myself that much of a “global” individual. These cursory facts alone give a pointer to what this book is all about: masculinities in a global era. But the global era—or globalization—is more than simply living one’s life in an international context. Arjun Appadurai ( 1996 ) offers a cultural take on globalization which he sees as an effect of the rupture between tradition and modernity caused by two interlocking factors: electronic mass media and migration. Film, television, and now the Internet have trans- mitted stories and possibilities around the world which inform the dreams, aspirations, and identities of people wherever they may be, bringing the global to the local, which are essentially two sides of the same coin. Just as such electronically mediated stories fl ow across the world, so too its citizens in unprecedented numbers, largely from “developing countries” to the “developed world.” This at once makes local, national, and regional roots less important, while at the same time privileging the roots of the drivers of globalization, thus the common—albeit fl awed—perception that globalization equates with homogenization, which in turn equates with Americanization. From a more economic perspective, Saskia Sassen (1999 ) identifi es the construction of “global cities,” largely characterized by those in the technology and fi nancial services sectors (think New York, London and Tokyo). Sassen argues that the needs of such global cities have wide-reaching socioeconomic effects. For example, immigration policies are impacted by global cities because they need

J. Gelfer (*) Monash University, MCD University of Divinity , Melbourne , VIC , Australia e-mail: [email protected]

J. Gelfer (ed.), Masculinities in a Global Era, International and Cultural Psychology 4, 1 DOI 10.1007/978-1-4614-6931-5_1, © Springer Science+Business Media New York 2014 2 J. Gelfer particular types of foreign labor to do business, and this encourages the kind of migration fl ow to which Appadurai refers. Global cities amplify the discrepancies between the haves and have-nots, not just between global cities and other locations but within global cities as women and minority workforces are required to service the technology and fi nancial professionals that drive the global city economies. And across all these issues, big business based in global cities results in a shift in power away from government and nations to transnational corporations. Clearly globalization results in winners and losers. Further still, central to the understanding of globalization is that it functions as something of a paradox, which will be demonstrated as the chapters in this collection unfold. As Zygmunt Bauman (1998 ) notes, for all its unifying elements, “globalization divides as much as it unites … what appears as globalization for some means localization for others; signaling a new freedom for some, upon many others it descends as an uninvited and cruel fate” (p. 2). And these paradoxes themselves are continually evolving in what Bauman ( 2000) has described as “liquid modernity,” where our sense of self is constantly shifting in response to ever-changing parameters and demands: for example, writing in 1998 Bauman could say with some certainty that “being local in a globalized world is a sign of social deprivation and degradation” (Bauman 1998 , p. 2), yet 15 years later “local” has become an almost fetish-like object among the environmentally inclined global middle classes. In this context it is not just those who are often considered “losers” in globalization who seek to escape its effects—such as conservative religions retreating into fundamentalism (Thompson 2007 )—rather those who have typically been “winners” in globalization but who nevertheless see “local” as “spaces of resistance through which agency and local institutional efforts can manage change in ways which more closely meets their needs” (Feagan 2007 , p. 32). There is a further aspect to all this that I believe has yet to be fully unraveled in the context of globalization and which I have described elsewhere as being “beyond a sense of place” (Gelfer 2009a). By this I mean not just the global nomadism that characterizes a particular type of middle class global citizenry who might be just as at home in Toronto or Hyderabad; rather, I mean the kind of individual who no longer has a concrete sense of place wherever they may be, except perhaps in the spatiality of their online presence and the identities they construct within it which remain largely consistent as they move between one place and the next (with all their cultural specifi cities). In this space both the global and local can be both regulated and resisted, yet the global–local binary is also problematized: liquid modernity indeed! This is all just the briefest of glimpses at what globalization means in the broadest sense. And so we come specifi cally to the role of masculinities and globalization.

Masculinities and Globalization

The study of masculinities and globalization exists as one of the more recent waves of the broader study of masculinities. Within the discipline of psychology— and indeed other disciplines—the study of masculinity had its common origins in Introduction 3 sex role theory, which questioned what defi nes men’s roles, and how individual men stood relative to that benchmark (Pleck 1987 ). Thinking of men in biological terms (being male) then largely gave way to greater emphasis on the social construction of gender (on our context, being masculine) (Hare-Mustin and Marecek 1990 ; Lorber 1994 ; Lorber and Farrell 1991 ; West and Zimmerman 1987 ), which highlighted the various forms of masculinities that function in specifi c historical and cultural contexts (Brod 1987 , p. 2), and how hegemonic masculinities operate by regulating both women and atypical men (Carrigan et al. 1987 ; Connell and Messerschmidt 2005 ). Masculinities and globalization as a theme is thus an example of how the study of masculinities continues to proliferate, from the biologically determined to the socially constructed, from the singular to the multiple, and the complex interplay between these sets of binaries. R. W. Connell’s (1998 ) discussion of masculinities and globalization mobilizes the image of globalization presented, for example, by Sassen, but notes that the international capitalist order to which she refers is not just a gender-neutral system in which gendered activities take place, rather one that is reached via an historical process which itself is inherently gendered; this historical process is divided by Connell into three waves. First, global conquest and settlement involved a specifi c masculine performance; this process was largely undertaken by certain types of men (such as soldiers) who tended towards violence and egocentric individualism. Further still, colonization and settlement required a frontier mentality that resulted in a combative relationship with the land and culture under colonization, and also a signifi cant undercurrent of sexual exploitation of Indigenous women. Second, once the process of settlement was secured, a specifi c form of masculinity was promoted in the process of empire building; this at once resulted in the regulation of Indigenous masculinities by separating more “manly” castes and tribes from the more “effeminate” but also an impact on colonizer masculinity which became increasingly defi ned around economic success. Third, in the context of postcolonialism and neoliberalism, masculinity is also embedded in the system where out of empire has emerged a discourse of the market and individualiza- tion which is largely one of hegemonic masculine dominance. From a theoretical point of view, Connell described this third stage as resulting in “transnational business masculinity” (1998 , p. 16). Connell and Wood (2005 ) explored this form of masculinity ethnographically in the context of Australian managers who at once highlighted connections and departures from more historically specifi c masculinities. Connell and Wood note, “some continuity with older bourgeois masculinities. The association with power and preoccupations with the techniques of money remain” (p. 361); however, the transnational business masculinity is less bound by cultural context to the point where there is “no rationale at all except profi t making,” a highly embodied value manifest in “pressure, long hours and tension” (p. 361). Of signifi cance too—specifi cally within the context of several of the proceeding chapters—transnational business masculinity is sustained through “systemic mutual scrutiny” (p. 362), which demonstrates that even among the “winners” of globalization, regulation is a continual process. 4 J. Gelfer

But even within the hegemonic North Atlantic countries, not all masculinities are winners in globalization. Michael Kimmel (2003 ) examines right-wing groups in both the United States and Norway in which young white men are disenfranchised by globalization. These men are often the sons of farmers or small business owners who have not fared well in globalization and who fi nd themselves on the margins of the workforce, looking in on the center which appears to be not only populated by the wealthy elite, but immigrant workers who have been moved in to service the elites. These groups “have responded to the erosion of public patriarchy (displacement in the political arena) and domestic patriarchy (their wives now work away from the farm) with a renewal of their sense of masculine entitlement to restore patriarchy in both arenas” (p. 606). Kimmel also notes a parallel to these men in the “terrorists” of 9/11, who were largely well-educated middle-class young men who were not prospering under globalization and who sought to restore their privileged masculinity in their campaign for a particular form of Islamist culture. And it is these non-Western masculinities that have been the focus of the majority of work on masculinities and globalization. Alongside a proliferation of journal articles on the matter, a number of signifi cant books have been published on global masculinities, central to which has been the Global Masculinities series from Zed Books. In this series, Bob Pease and Keith Pringle (2001 ) outline the three benefi ts of exploring the subject: to provide a critical analysis of men’s practices in various cultures, to provide comparative analyses for the main issues underpinning critical studies on masculinity (such as men’s violence towards women, how men perform across multiples sites of power, and how to offer a useful gender relational framework), and to identify transnational aspects to men’s practices (pp. 2–3). This series went on to canvass men in the global south (Jones 2006 ), young men (Seidler 2006 ), Islamic masculinities (Ouzgane 2006 ), policy development (Cleaver 2003 ), and men in southern Africa (Morrell 2001 ). A useful recent snapshot of international comparative studies on men and masculinities (Pringle et al. 2011 , p. 3) highlights a fl urry of other region-specifi c books addressing European countries (Hearn and Pringle 2006 ; Ervø and Johansson 2003a , b; Novikova and Kambourov 2003 ), Asia (Louie and Low 2002 ; Roberson and Suzuki 2003 ; Brownell and Wasserstorm 2002 ; Louie 2002 ), Africa (Lindsay and Miescher 2003 ; Ouzgane and Morrell 2003 ), the Middle East (Ghoussoub and Sinclair-Webb 2000 ), and Latin America (Gutmann 2002 ). A more recent Global Masculinities series from Palgrave Macmillan has been looking at the subject with a greater emphasis on the cultural specifi cities of Anglophone countries (rather than viewing them merely as normative within a discourse of globalization), including books about masculine performances in Irish cinema (Ging 2012 ), British literature (Horlacher 2011 ; Solinger 2012 ), the trans- and multinational arena (Ruspini et al. 2011 ), and the American west (Worden 2011 ). But a word of caution should be voiced here. Despite the worthy intentions of the editors and authors referred to in the trans- and international collections above (and, to be frank, my own intentions in this collection), one cannot help but notice that these endeavors to explore global masculinities still largely take place from a seat of privilege. As Ronald Jackson and Murali Balaji note, “despite the important work Introduction 5 exploring international or global conceptions of diverse masculinities, masculinity studies has generally become ghettoized by a Eurocentric paradigm of whiteness and its Others” (2011 , p. 21). It may be, then, that we never get a fair representation of global masculinities until we genuinely break this persistent Orientalist spell, and this will only happen when the economy of academic knowledge transfer and publications does greater justice to those who do not write in English as a fi rst language (Curry and Lillis 2004 ; Flowerdew 2007). At that point we will no longer have well- meaning researchers such as myself editing collections from the center and looking out; rather, we will genuinely problematize the center, which in turn will take our understanding of global masculinities in surprising new directions. This is just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to research on masculinities and globalization. Most of this research has been undertaken within the disciplines of sociology, anthropology, and cultural studies, and less so within the context of psychology. One notable exception is Chris Blazina and David Shen-Miller’s (2011a ) edited collection An International Psychology of Men. This collection is divided into three parts. The fi rst section—theoretical models—explores migration, violence in South Africa, health risk behaviors, multiple perceptions of self, and the pursuit of “positive” masculinity. The second section contains discussions about body image and sexuality. The third section—clinical innovation and programs for men—canvasses abusive men, archetypes, postnatal depression, “traditional” men, and the psychology of Russian men. The international element to this collection of articles is not necessarily foregrounded, but nevertheless when describing the text Blazina and Shen-Miller note, “the contextual nature of the authors’ work rose explicitly off the page” (2011b , p. xxxiii), a statement which holds true for the proceeding chapters. Blazina and Shen-Miller identify a number of challenges and benefi ts to their collection (2011b , pp. xxxiv-xlii). In terms of challenges they note two interrelated issues: fi rst, the limited utility of theories generated in explaining cross-cultural phenomena and, second, the establishment of generalizability from local constructs, measures, and so on. In terms of benefi ts they note the following: exposure to different models from around the world, increasing international dialogue among psychologists broadens the range of tools available to clinicians, an international perspective counters an assumed worldwide singular masculinity, the preservation of diverse masculinities around the world, and a better ability to understand inter- group and interethnic confl ict. Certainly, these challenges and benefi ts are important to point out, although these kinds of issues have been the bread and butter for various branches of the humanities and social sciences for many years. Indeed, a further word of caution may be due in relation to this particular discussion. While Blazina and Shen-Miller provide many appropriate caveats about how to think about men, masculinity and psychology within an international context in all its diversity, I remain troubled by an essentialist undercurrent. The whole notion of “the international psychology of men” seems somewhat singular and counter to a discourse of multiplicity that underpins the general study of men and masculinities in the humanities and social sciences. Indulge me with this little provocation: how do you feel when you read, 6 J. Gelfer

“the international psychology of Jews”? I suspect you would feel something odd was afoot, as clearly this misses the extraordinary diversity of Jewish culture; further still, you might think that some other—rather unsavory—agenda was being pursued. Similarly, “the international psychology of men” (as a phrase) does not do justice to the diversity of men and masculinities; further still, what agenda is best served by such singularity? The promotion of singularity with the context of masculinity serves a hetero-patriarchal agenda, and the fact should not be ignored that it was—an albeit populist rendering of—psychology that was mobilized to such problematic effect in the 1990s mythopoetic men’s movement which continues to have signiﬁ cant ramiﬁ cations even today (Gelfer 2009b ). So it is within this context of psychology that the book you are reading extends the conversation. However, the contents of the collection, which are outlined in the next section, are of an interdisciplinary nature: while various contributions are written by psychologists, others are not, although all have been written with the intention of informing how we understand the psychology of men and masculinities within the context of globalization.

Chapter Outline

In the chapters contained within this collection, we will see examples of the different ways masculinities and globalization manifest as outlined in the section above. Some of the chapters refer to the actual effect of globalization upon the masculine performances under consideration, while others refer to masculinities in different parts of the globe that may or may not explicitly speak to the issue of globalization. The chapters are divided into four parts: fi rst, theoretical models of masculinity; second, masculinities and stability; third, masculinities under negotiation; and fourth, sexuality. The fi rst—theoretical models—section comprises two chapters and begins with New Directions in Gender Role Confl ict Research by Cormac Ó Beaglaoich, Kiran M. Sarma, and Todd G. Morrison. In this chapter, the authors provide an extensive account of gender role confl ict, elements of which appear explicitly and implicitly throughout the remaining chapters. Gender role confl ict occurs when expectations of—in our context, masculine—gender result in negative consequences for the individual. The authors map out a number of limitations that have been identifi ed to measure gender role confl ict and test how to mitigate the limitations, specifi cally within the context of adolescent boys/young men in Ireland. Their chapter contains several recommendations on how to adapt the measurement of gender role confl ict that does greater to justice to the cultural and contextual specifi city of the individuals being questioned. The second chapter in the theoretical section is my own contribution, Will the Real Joseph Gelfer Please Stand Up: Multiple Masculinities and the Self . In this chapter I extend the notion of multiple masculinities within the general study of masculinities beyond different masculine constituencies and instead look at Introduction 7 multiple masculinities within the individual self. Via an autoethnographical examination of sexuality and style, I demonstrate that the “truth” of an individual requires holding different aspects of the self in productive tension. I also extend this to the whole study of men and masculinities, arguing that one must be able to move between the different schools of thought (critical studies on masculinity, men’s studies, and so on), in order to do the subject justice. Signifi cantly, the question of the local/global binary leads us down a rabbit hole in this chapter: an Englishman, speaking “from” Australia, mobilizing evidence of the textual self performed through both international print and online media. The second section—masculinities and stability—comprises three chapters and begins with Youthful Warrior Masculinities in Indonesia by Pam Nilan, Argyo Demartoto, and Agung Wibowo. The authors interviewed a number of Indonesian young men in order to surface the cultural infl uences that contribute towards their understanding of masculinity. Myths, heroic narratives, and legends from Indonesia were all seen to contribute to a masculinity defi ned by several key themes: the invulnerable hero, the jago (strongman), the quiet menace of the hypermasculine warrior, initiation, control, and recognition. The authors conclude by showing how these youthful Indonesian masculinities intersect and diverge from a common Western understanding of hegemonic masculinity. In their chapter, Men of Honor: Examining Individual Differences in Masculine Honor Beliefs , Donald A. Saucier and Jessica L. McManus unravel how honor is understood within the southern culture of the United States. This is particularly interesting in terms of locality in the context of globalization. In general, the United States is considered the source of the globalization narrative, with its local values spreading around the global (resulting in the common perception of homogenization). However, let us not forget that those local values are indeed local rather than generic and have as much cultural specifi city as any of the other non-Anglophone masculinities that are often privileged (even fetishized) within the study of globalization. In this chapter, the authors map out what defi nes honor in the south, how this contributes towards the construction of masculinity in that region, and how this goes on to impact the measurability of other issues such as war, security, and punishment. The fi nal chapter in this section is “Men Are Hard . . . Women Are Soft”: Muslim Men and the Construction of Masculine Identity by Asifa Siraj. This chapter examines how Muslim men in Scotland go about constructing their identities. Siraj shows how the participants’ identities are formed by an interweaving of class, ethnicity, and country of origin. Religion was also shown to be fundamental to the participants’ identities, reinforcing particular understandings of gender difference, marriage, and parenting. In contrast to expectations that the construction of masculinity is a complex negotiation, Siraj’s participants were secure in their masculinity due to their role within both the family and out in the public sphere. The third section—masculinities under negotiation—comprises fi ve chapters and begins with Making the Global Bhadralok?: Bengali Men and the Transnational Middle Class in India by Saayan Chattopadhyay. This is a particularly important chapter as it speaks explicitly to both the two main forms of masculinities and globalization: how masculinities are formed in an international corporate state and 8 J. Gelfer how masculinities are performed within a specifi c non-Western locality. Chattopadhyay shows how Bengali masculinity has been shaped through the colonial and postcolonial periods and how today this intersects with Connell’s transnational business masculinity (or whether we are looking instead at a transnational middle-class masculinity). Chattopadhyay also demonstrates how fi lm and popular literature, alongside a global neoliberal hegemony, contribute to the construction of the contemporary bhadralok . In her chapter, Better Men?: Gendered Culturalized Citizenship in Male Emancipation Projects in the Netherlands, Iris van Huis examines how migrant men have become a specifi c target group of Dutch culturalized citizenship politics via the establishment of “male emancipation projects” which offer migrant men the opportunity for self-refl ection. Van Huis shows how the emancipation projects appeal to men via certain essentialist masculine “codes” such as “doing stuff” and “learning practical things” as well as how de-essentializing spaces can be opened up through discussion of topics such as fatherhood. Globalization comes into keen focus as the participants must balance the perception of themes such as fatherhood as seen in both their countries of origin and the Netherlands. Van Huis suggests that the projects can be seen as a form of “new paternalism” in which the migrant masculinities in question are brought into line with mainstream Dutch values. In their chapter, Fluid Masculinities? Case Study of the Kingdom of Bahrain , Magdalena Karolak, Hala Guta, and Neva Helena Alexander provide a further example of how local understandings of masculinity are held in tension with more globalized (read Western) values. In this study, four themes emerged from the data gathered from interviews with Bahraini men: hegemonic masculinity versus Muslim masculinity, that which is not masculinity, masculinity negotiations, and societal changes and the perception of masculinity. The participants in this study at once aspired to normative and hegemonic masculine ideas but also identifi ed the limitations of these models and were inclined to hold them at a distance from their lived experience. In this study we see not just how masculinity is negotiated within an evolving Arabic culture but also between that Arabic culture and the globalized world it inhabits. Masculinity in Ambiguity: Constructing Taiwanese Masculine Identities between Great Powers by Ying-Chao Kao and Herng-Dar Bih draws a connection between the ambiguous sovereignty of Taiwan on the international diplomatic stage and the ambiguity of Taiwanese masculinities. The authors chart three common sites of masculine identity-making in Taiwan: aluba (a type of initiation process performed by some school boys in Taiwan), doing soldier (the military service experienced by most Taiwanese men), and fl ower drinking (a social and business activity in which men visit erotic entertainment venues). The social dynamics between these three sites create masculinities which problematize the binary of hegemonic and subordinate masculinities and which are characterized by ambiguity at the international, institutional, interpersonal, and developmental levels. Introduction 9

The fi nal chapter in this section is Historical Sediments of Competing Gender Models in Indigenous Guatemala by Brent E. Metz and Meghan Farley Webb who cast a light on Mayan masculinities. Demonstrating that there are always further layers to the onion, we are shown two different Indigenous masculinities performed in the Kaqchikel and Ch’orti’ language groups (the former being one of the largest and well-studied groups, the latter less known). Like various contributions to this volume, the authors show how the masculinities in question at once perpetuate old understandings of masculinity, while also reforming the new. In particular we see how masculinity among the Kaqchikel is being impacted by transnational labor migration between Guatemala and North America. The fourth section—sexuality—comprises three chapters and begins with Hypospadias, the “Bathroom Panopticon,” and Men’s Psychological and Social Urinary Practices by Stephen Craig Kerry. In this chapter Kerry shows how a regulatory process occurs around men with hypospadias—a confi guration of the penis in which the urethral opening is positioned along the shaft rather than the tip—defi ning what is and is not “normal” genitalia. Kerry draws a comparison with intersex people and how their experience is regulated by the designation of bathrooms as generally either “male” or “female.” Writing from Australia, and mobilizing examples from the United Kingdom and the United States, Kerry highlights the impact of the medicalization of “abnormalities” on the masculine self while at the same time challenging its boundaries. The second chapter in this section is Cannibals and Ghosts: Forms of Capital, Immobility and Dependence Among Former Javanese Sex Workers in South Bali (Indonesia) by Matteo Carlo Alcano. In this chapter we witness the construction of a form of masculine subjectivity that originates in the context of sex work. It focuses on the status of being a former sex worker and the ways masculinity is learned, produced, regulated, and critiqued both individually and collectively in a particular context of migration, violence, and sex tourism. The chapter demonstrates the curious solidarity between the sex workers and the gangs that operate them, a stoical attitude towards the rapidly expendable nature of the male body and the paradox of at once being a “slave” to the sex trade while at the same time viewing this activity via an entrepreneurial lens. The fourth section concludes with Transgender Identity and Acceptance in a Global Era: The Muxes of Juchitán by Alfredo Mirandé. In this Mexican context, muxes are a group of Indigenous men who openly dress in female Zapotec attire, assume traditional female roles, and are widely accepted by the community. Mirandé shows that while Latino culture is often characterized by machismo, it is also surprisingly accommodating of muxe gender performances. Indeed, Mirandé’s study suggests that Juchitán may be more progressive than localities such as the United States because muxes tend to have no need to congregate in queer communities as they are fully embedded in mainstream society. This chapter also contributes to a 10 J. Gelfer recent fl owering of queer Indigenous studies, one of the least studied and most interesting points of intersectionality.

Conclusion

I laughed when I read Appadurai’s comment in his introduction to Modernity at Large: Cultural Dimensions to Globalization: “any book about globalization is a mild exercise in megalomania” (1996 , p. 18). So what megalomania is revealed in the curation of this collection? I want to resist drawing too many grand conclusions from the text itself. Certainly, it is fair to say that the proceeding chapters demonstrate that masculinities are a continual site of contestation wherever you go. Certainly, it is fair to say that the proceeding chapters demonstrate the diversity of masculinities around the world, even if at the same time showing a worrying com- monality around the dominance of normative/hetero-patriarchal masculinity. Rather, I want to take the opportunity to make a couple of points about my curatorial decisions, and the directions I hope they will take the conversation about masculinities in a global era. First, I want to make a special point about the representation of sexuality in this collection. Sexuality—specifi cally non-straight fl avors—is of crucial importance not just to the study of men and masculinities but to how we might go about transforming men and masculinities. Clearly, it is important for the stories and experiences of non-straight men to be heard. There is no consensus on the percentage of people in society who are not straight. To chart a possible spectrum, Anthony F. Bogaert (2004 ) suggests a fi gure typically between 1 and 6 percent of people identifying as “homosexual,” while Sell et al. ( 1995 )—shifting the focus from homosexual “behavior” to “attraction”—suggest anything up to 20 %. So clearly, any collection of essays about men has to have somewhere between 1 % and 20 % of content relating to non-straight men to be representative of the truth. But the importance of non-straight sexuality is far greater than “merely” representing the experiences of a minority of men. I believe this issue is of crucial importance to all men, as it gets right to the heart of how masculinity is policed, largely by other men, but also by women. Non-straight men are, as it were, the “canaries in a coal mine.” What happens to non-straight men is an amplifi cation of the regulatory processes that coalesce around all men. Therefore, all men should have a vested interested in how their queer brothers are treated, because if those queer masculinities are shut down, it is only a few very short steps for straight masculinities that fall marginally outside of the hegemonic center to also be shut down. Conversely, if those queer masculinities are given room to fl ourish and are celebrated, so too will the multiplicity of atypical masculinities performed by straight men (leaving to one side here the reifi cation of the gay–straight binary). The “queer issue” is, therefore, not a “queer issue,” rather an “everybody issue.” And that is why there is a relatively high degree of queer content in this collection. Shifting from the practical to the theoretical, we see a similar story with queer theory. The great value of queer Introduction 11 theory—understood simply as the troubling of categories and the regulatory function of defi ning what is “normal”—is not just to queer people but all people. So despite a growing rumor that queer theory is dead (Warner 2012 ), it may well be that we are in the calm before the storm that is queer theory for everyone . Second, it is time to move beyond the tired binary of feminisms and men’s rights advocates in the study of men and masculinities. Second-wave feminism offered a powerful analysis of patriarchy and how men enjoy its dividends and functioned as the basis for critical studies on masculinities. At the same time, men’s rights advocates claim that they are not privileged and that men are on the wrong end of the stick with numerous measures such as poor health and education and increased levels of violence, homelessness, suicide, and incarceration. These two groups have been talking at cross-purposes for decades for one clear reason: in general, feminist discourse is systemic, and men’s rights discourse is personal. So here’s the simplis- tic but powerful way forward: Feminists need to realize that men’s rights pain is often genuine and that at the individual level not all men have power; men’s rights advocates need to realize that they often do enjoy the dividends of patriarchy even when they feel they have little personal power and most importantly that the advances of women do not come at the expense of men. The clear way forward in gender politics is for women and men to work in alliance to dismantle socially constructed masculinities—and femininities—that have a negative impact on the well- being of all people and the environment in which we live. Our global era offers unique challenges, but it also offers unique possibilities. As the proceeding chapters demonstrate, we are mostly in a time of transition, volatil- ity, and anxiety; however, never before have people been able to organize and share experiences in such a powerful manner. One can only hope that while some aspects of globalization force some to retreat into old ways of doing gender, it will catalyze in others the desire to embody the new.

References

Appadurai, A. (1996). Modernity at large: Cultural dimensions to globalization . Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Bauman, Z. (1998). Globalization: The human consequences . Cambridge: Polity Press. Bauman, Z. (2000). Liquid modernity . Cambridge: Polity Press. Blazina, C., & Shen-Miller, D. S. (2011a). An international psychology of men: Theoretical advances, case studies and clinical innovations . New York: Routledge. Blazina, C., & Shen-Miller, D. S. (2011b). Introduction. In C. Blazina & D. S. Shen-Miller (Eds.), An international psychology of men: Theoretical advances, case studies and clinical innovations (pp. xxiii–l). New York: Routledge. Bogaert, A. F. (2004). The prevalence of male homosexuality: The effect of fraternal birth order and variations in family size. Journal of Theoretical Biology, 230 (1), 33–37. Brod, H. (1987). Introduction: Themes and theses of men’s studies. In H. Brod (Ed.), The making of masculinities: The new men’s studies (pp. 1–20). Boston: Allen & Unwin. Brownell, S., & Wasserstorm, J. (Eds.). (2002). Chinese femininities/Chinese masculinities: A reader . Berkeley: University of California Press. 12 J. Gelfer

Carrigan, T., Connell, R. W., & Lee, J. (1987). Toward a new sociology of masculinity. In H. Brod (Ed.), The making of masculinities: The new men’s studies (pp. 63–100). Boston: Allen & Unwin. Cleaver, F. (Ed.). (2003). Masculinities matter! Men, gender and development . London: Zed Books. Connell, R. W. (1998). Masculinities and globalization. Men and Masculinities, 1 (1), 3–23. Connell, R. W., & Messerschmidt, J. W. (2005). Hegemonic masculinity: Rethinking the concept. Gender and Society, 19 (6), 829–859. Connell, R. W., & Wood, J. (2005). Globalization and business masculinities. Men and Masculinities, 7 (4), 347–364. Curry, M. J., & Lillis, T. (2004). Multilingual scholars and the imperative to publish in English: Negotiating interests, demands, and rewards. TESOL Quarterly, 38 (4), 663–688. Ervø, S., & Johansson, T. (Eds.). (2003a). Moulding masculinities—Volume one: Among men . Farnham: Ashgate. Ervø, S., & Johansson, T. (Eds.). (2003b). Moulding masculinities—Volume two: Bending bodies . Farnham: Ashgate. Feagan, R. (2007). The place of food: Mapping out the ‘local’ in local food systems. Progress in Human Geography, 31 (1), 23–42. Flowerdew, J. (2007). The non-Anglophone scholar on the periphery of scholarly publication. AILA Review, 20 , 14–27. Gelfer, J. (2009a). Beyond a sense of place. In F. J. Kolapo (Ed.), Immigrant academics and cultural challenges in a global environment (pp. 263–266). Amherst: Cambria Press. Gelfer, J. (2009b). Numen, old men: Contemporary masculine spiritualities and the problem of patriarchy . London: Equinox Publishers. Ghoussoub, M., & Sinclair-Webb, E. (Eds.). (2000). Imagined masculinities: Male identity and culture in the modern Middle East . London: Saqi Books. Ging, D. (2012). Men and masculinities in Irish cinema . Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Gutmann, M. (2002). Changing men and masculinities in Latin America . Durham: Duke University Press. Hare-Mustin, R. T., & Marecek, J. (Eds.). (1990). Making a difference: Psychology and the construction of gender . New Haven: Yale University Press. Hearn, J., & Pringle, K. (Eds.). (2006). European perspectives on men and masculinities . Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Horlacher, S. (Ed.). (2011). Constructions of masculinity in British literature from the middle ages to the present . Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Jackson, R. L., & Balaji, M. (2011). Introduction. In R. L. Jackson & M. Balaji (Eds.), Global masculinities and manhood (pp. 17–30). Urbana: University of Illinois Press. Jones, A. (Ed.). (2006). Men of the global south: A reader . London: Zed Books. Kimmel, M. S. (2003). Globalization and its mal(e)contents: The gendered moral and political economy of terrorism. International Sociology, 18 (3), 603–620. Lindsay, L., & Miescher, S. (2003). Men and masculinities in modern Africa. Portsmouth: Heineman. Lorber, J. (1994). Paradoxes of gender . New Haven: Yale University Press. Lorber, J., & Farrell, S. A. (Eds.). (1991). The social construction of gender. Newbury Park: Sage. Louie, K. (2002). Theorizing Chinese masculinity: Society and gender in China . Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Louie, K., & Low, M. (Eds.). (2002). Asian masculinities: The meaning and practice of manhood in China and Japan . London: Routledge. Morrell, R. (Ed.). (2001). Changing men in southern Africa . London: Zed Books. Novikova, I., & Kambourov, D. (Eds.). (2003). Men and masculinities in the global world . Helsinki: Kikimora Publishers, Aleksantteri Institutue. Ouzgane, L. (Ed.). (2006). Islamic masculinities . London: Zed Books. Ouzgane, L., & Morrell, R. (Eds.). (2003). African masculinities: Men in Africa from the late nineteenth century to the present . London: Palgrave. Pease, B., & Pringle, K. (2001). Introduction. In B. Pease & K. Pringle (Eds.), A man’s world? Changing men’s practices in a globalizing world (pp. 1–17). London: Zed Books. Introduction 13

Pleck, J. H. (1987). The theory of male sex-role identity: Its rise and fall, 1936 to the present. In H. Brod (Ed.), The making of masculinities: The new men’s studies (pp. 21–38). Boston: Allen & Unwin. Pringle, K., Hearn, J., Pease, B., & Ruspini, E. (2011). Introduction: Transforming men’s practices around the world. In E. Ruspini, J. Hearn, B. Pease, & K. Pringle (Eds.), Men and masculinities around the world: Transforming men’s practices (pp. 1–13). Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Roberson, J., & Suzuki, N. (Eds.). (2003). Men and masculinities in contemporary Japan: Dislocating the salaryman doxa . London: Routledge. Ruspini, E., Hearn, J., Pease, B., & Pringle, K. (Eds.). (2011). Men and masculinities around the world: Transforming men’s practices . Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Sassen, S. (1999). Globalization and its discontents: Essays on the new mobility of people and money . New York: The New Press. Seidler, V. J. (Ed.). (2006). Young men and masculinities: Global cultures and intimate lives . London: Zed Books. Sell, R. L., Wells, J. A., & Wypij, D. (1995). The prevalence of homosexual behavior and attraction in the United States, the United Kingdom and France: Results of national population-based samples. Archives of Sexual Behavior, 24 (3), 235–248. Solinger, J. D. (2012). Becoming the gentleman: British literature and the invention of modern masculinity, 1660Ð1815 . Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Thompson, G. (2007). Religious fundamentalisms, territories and ‘globalization’. Economy and Society, 36 (1), 19–50. Warner, M. (2012). Queer and then. The end of queer theory? Chronicle of Higher Education . Retrieved Dec 1, 2012, from http://chronicle.com/article/QueerThen-/130161/ . West, C., & Zimmerman, D. H. (1987). Doing gender. Gender and Society, 1 (2), 125–151. Worden, D. (2011). Masculine style: The American west and literary modernism . Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Part I Theoretical Models New Directions in Gender Role Conﬂ ict Research

Cormac Ó. Beaglaoich , Kiran M. Sarma , and Todd G. Morrison

Gender role confl ict (GRC) is defi ned as a psychological state in which the socialized male gender role has negative consequences for the person and others (O’Neil 2008a ). GRC occurs when rigid, sexist, or limiting gender roles result in restriction, devaluation, or violation of self and/or others (O’Neil 1981b ). With approximately 240 studies conducted to date, associations between GRC and various indicants of psychological health have been documented. James O’Neil (2008a ), the author of GRC theory, published a 25-year literature review of GRC research (1982–2007) which provides a detailed examination of (a) the theoretical models underpinning the theory, (b) the psychometric properties of the Gender Role Confl ict Scale (GRCS), (c) principal fi ndings of GRC research, (d) criticisms directed at GRC theory and the GRCS, and (e) future research avenues for GRC theory. The GRCS has been regarded as the “most well-known instrument within the traditional counseling literature” that focuses on masculinity (Betz and Fitzgerald 1993 , p. 360) and has made an important contribution to men’s health research. For example, 11 out of 13 studies reviewed by O’Neil (2008a ) documented a negative correlation between GRC and self-esteem, 12 out of 15 studies reported a positive correlation between GRC and anxiety, and 24 out of 27 studies found positive correlations between GRC and depression. The rationale for GRC theory was devised and documented in a number of theoretical papers (O’Neil 1981a , b , 1982 ). These papers describe a model that conceptualizes GRC as an “interaction of environmental and biological factors that promote certain masculine values (masculine mystique 1) and the fear of femininity” (O’Neil 2008a, p. 361). As the concepts of masculine ideology (and, more narrowly,

C. Ó. Beaglaoich (*) • K. M. Sarma School of Psychology , National University of Ireland , Galway , Ireland e-mail: [email protected]; [email protected] T. G. Morrison Department of Psychology , University of Saskatchewan , Saskatoon , SK , S7N5A5 , Canada e-mail: [email protected]

J. Gelfer (ed.), Masculinities in a Global Era, International and Cultural Psychology 4, 17 DOI 10.1007/978-1-4614-6931-5_2, © Springer Science+Business Media New York 2014 18 C.Ó. Beaglaoich et al. hegemonic masculinity) as well as gender role strain are paramount in understanding GRC, each of these terms will be outlined briefl y. Masculine ideology refers to an individual’s adoption of cultural beliefs about masculinity and the masculine gender role (Good et al. 1994 ). Within Western culture, masculine gender socialization emphasizes characteristics such as stoicism, independence, physical toughness, dominance, restrictive emotional expression, competition, and antifemininity (Brannon and Juni 1984; Connell 2005 ; Levant et al. 2007 ; Levant 2011 ; Mahalik et al. 2003 ). Hegemonic masculinity denotes the dominant masculine expression within a given culture at a particular point in time (Connell 2005 ) and embodies the “currently most honoured way of being a man” (Connell and Messerschmidt 2005 , p. 832). Hegemonic masculinity is an atheorethical concept and does not particularize how endorsement of a specifi c form of masculine ideology increases the likelihood of health risks, both physical and psychological. In contrast to normative models (e.g., masculine ideology), gender role confl ict/stress models focus on the degree of perceived confl ict between one’s internalized or learned gender roles and one’s environment (O’Neil et al. 1995 ). Gender role strain paradigm (GRSP, Pleck 1995 ) is a social psychological concept which presents ten propositions relating to gender role norms. For example, “Gender roles are operationally defi ned by gender role stereotypes and norms,” “Violating gender role norms leads to negative psychological consequences,” and “Violating gender role norms has more severe consequences for males than females.” Implicit in these propositions are three broader ideas about how cultural standards for masculinity, as implemented in gender socialization, have potentially negative consequences for individual males (Pleck 1995 ). These are gender role discrepancy, gender role trauma, and gender role dysfunction. Gender role discrepancy posits that individuals attempt to conform—to varying degrees—to stereotypic masculine standards and that nonconformance to these prescribed standards can result in negative internalized self-judgments and negative social feedback from others affecting self-esteem and psychological well-being 2 (Pleck 1995 ). Gender role trauma contends that aspects of male gender role socialization, in particular, the experience of traditional masculine ideology, can be inherently traumatic for males (Levant 2011 ). For example, by virtue of being socialized in a heterosexist society, gay men may experience normative trauma (Harrison 1995 as cited in Levant 2011 ). The third category, gender role dysfunction proposes that socially desirable and acceptable characteristics associated with the male role (e.g., avoidance of femininity, homophobia, and aggression) can have negative consequences for either the males themselves or others because many of these characteristics are inherently negative. O’Neil (2008a ) deemed this subtype as having the most theoretical relevance to GRC because it “implies negative outcomes from endorsing restrictive gender role norms” (p. 366). There are numerous situational contexts in which GRC occurs. Men are proposed to have greater GRC when they experience one or more of several trajectories. First, they may have a gender role transition or face diffi cult developmental tasks over the life span. Second, they may deviate from or violate gender role norms New Directions in Gender Role Confl ict Research 19 of masculinity ideology. Third, they may try to meet or fail to meet gender role norms of masculinity ideology. Fourth, they may note discrepancies between their real self-concepts and their ideal self-concepts, based on gender role stereotypes and masculinity ideology. Fifth, men may personally devalue, restrict, and/or violate themselves for failing to meet masculinity ideology norms. Sixth, they may experience personal devaluations, restrictions, and/or violations from others for conforming to or deviating from masculinity ideology. Seventh, and fi nally, men may personally devalue, restrict, and/or violate others because of their deviation from or conformity to masculinity ideology norms (O’Neil 2008a ). These seven trajectories were, subsequently, refi ned into four categories: (a) GRC caused by gender role transitions, (b) GRC experienced intrapersonally (i.e., within the man), (c) GRC expressed toward others, and (d) GRC experienced from others (O’Neil 1990 ). Regardless of the category, gender role confl ict is characterized by devaluation, restriction, and violation. O’Neil (2008a ) contends that gender role devaluations represent negative assessments of the self (or others) when conforming to, or deviating from, the attributes characteristic of traditional or hegemonic masculinity. Gender role restrictions constitute constraining oneself (or others) to stereotypic norms of masculinity ideology. Gender role violations occur when people harm themselves or others (or are harmed by others) when deviating from or conforming to gender role norms of masculinity ideology (O’Neil 2008a ). Boys and men vary in the degree to which they endorse aspects of prescribed masculinity resulting in multifaceted strain and confl ict (O’Neil et al. 1986). That is, “men who describe themselves differentially in terms of gender role characteristics may show differen- tial aspects of gender role confl ict” (O’Neil et al. 1986, p. 339). The experience of GRC is dependent on cultural-, age-, and cohort-specifi c defi nitions of masculine ideologies and gender role stereotypes (Kahn 2009 ). GRC was theorized as having six elements that relate to gender role socialization and fear of femininity (O’Neil 1981b ): (a) Restrictive Emotionality; (b) Restrictive Sexual and Affectionate Behavior; (c) Homophobia; (d) Socialized Control, Power, and Competition Issues; (e) Obsession with Achievement and Success; and (f) Health-Care Problems. Each of these elements will be outlined briefl y. Restricted Emotionality (RE) is defi ned as having diffi culty expressing one’s own feelings or denying others their right to emotional expression (O’Neil 1981b ). RE implies that men will have diffi culty giving up emotional control and being vulnerable to themselves, others, and new experiences. These defi cits imply that some men will have diffi culty in self-disclosure, recognizing feelings, and processing the complexities of interpersonal life. Restrictive Sexual and Affectionate Behavior refers to having limited ways of expressing one’s sexuality and affection toward others (O’Neil 1981b ). For men, this is caused by their inability to express their “feminine” sides and also by rigidly adhering to masculine gender role norms and stereotypes (O’Neil 1981b ). Homophobia denotes a fear of gay men or an irrational concern that one may appear to be gay. Homophobia may prevent emotional intimacy between heterosexual men and may be a signifi cant barrier to male self-disclosure and companionship (O’Neil 1981b ). 20 C.Ó. Beaglaoich et al.

Socialized Control, Power, and Competition Issues relate to men’s socialized tendencies to dominate, control, and subordinate others (both men and women) in order to maintain their power and masculine role in relationships. The cost of being powerful, dominant, controlling, and competitive is usually high for men in interpersonal relationships, as it may lead to a loss of self-awareness, honesty, spontaneity, and emotional freedom because of the constant need to monitor and control a relationship (Nicholas 1975 as cited in O’Neil 1981b ). Obsession with Achievement and Success refers to men’s preoccupation with work and reliance on their occupation to substantiate their sense of themselves as men (O’Neil 1981b ). The primary means of becoming a success is through competing with others, using power and control, and demonstrating competence which is sometimes accompanied by obsessive fears of failure, workaholic behavior, and increased stress, which can produce emotional and physical problems for men (O’Neil 1981b ). These six elements blend to adversely “affect” men’s physical and psychological well-being. Gender role stereotypes project men as tireless, invincible workers with superhuman limits; thus, many men have been socialized to ignore the physical symptoms that lead to acute illness or chronic health problems (O’Neil 1981a ). O ’Neil et al. (1986 ) generated a total of 85 items to measure these six elements: Restrictive Emotionality (N = 15); Health-Care Problems (N = 14); Obsession with Achievement and Success (N = 16); Restrictive Affectionate Behavior Between Men ( N = 17); Control, Power, and Competition ( N = 14); and Homophobia ( N = 7). Three content experts reviewed the items, ensuring they referred specifi cally to gender-based rather than non-gender-based confl icts (O’Neil 1981a ). A six-point Likert scale was employed, with response options ranging from 1 = strongly disagree to 6 = strongly agree. Items were then administered to 527 introductory psychology undergraduate students (mean age = 19.8 years). A principal component analysis was conducted which resulted in a 37-item measure. The initial testing of the six theoretical elements of GRC previously mentioned produced four empirically derived subscales: Success, Power, and Competition (SPC); Restrictive Emotionality (RE); Restrictive Affectionate Behavior between Men (RABBM); and Confl ict between Work and Family (CBWFR). To assess the convergent validity of the GRCS, the measure has been correlated with many masculinity measures: Male Role Norms Scale (MRNS; Thompson and Pleck 1986 ), the Male Role Norm Inventory (MRNI; Levant et al. 1992 as cited in Levant 2011 ), and the Masculine Gender Role Stress Scale (MGRS: Eisler and Skidmore 1987 ). The convergent validity of each subscale has been demonstrated. For example, the RABBM correlated signifi cantly with the “Rejection of Homosexuals” subscale of the MRNI (Berger et al. 2005 ), the RE was signifi - cantly related to “Emotional Inexpressiveness” (Fischer and Good 1997 ), the CBWFR correlated signifi cantly with “Marital Satisfaction” (Campbell and Snow 1992 ), and the SPC was signifi cantly associated with “Performance Failure” (Fischer and Good 1997 ). To investigate the dimensionality of the GRCS, a number of confi rmatory factor analyses (CFAs) have been conducted. Good et al. ( 1995) supported a four-factor New Directions in Gender Role Confl ict Research 21 solution after running CFAs on a sample of 401 and 535 participants. However, Rogers et al. (1997 ) questioned the suitability of Good et al.’s conclusions as the latter did not employ conventional criteria for acceptable model fi t (i.e., Tucker- Lewis fi t index = .83 for samples 2 and 3, respectively; RMSEA = .54 and .59 for samples 2 and 3, respectively; and AGFI = .83 and .80 for samples 2 and 3, respectively). Rogers et al. found similar results (i.e., a four-factor model was obtained); however, model fi t statistics, again, fell short of advised guidelines (i.e., Tucker-Lewis fi t index > .9; RMSEA < .50; AGFI > .90). Moradi et al. (2000 ) argue that the item/factor ratio of the GRCS was higher than recommended and, as a result, suggested that parceling of items within each factor should be carried out prior to running a CFA. A four-factor solution with better fi t to the data was observed when rational (i.e., combining items within the same factor on the basis of similar content) and random (i.e., combining items within the same factor at random) parcel- level models were tested. However, Bandalos (2002 ) and Norwalk et al. ( 2011 ) argue that the use of item parceling may give infl ated results because item parceling often increases the reliability scores and masks error. When parceling procedures were not applied, Moradi and associates observed results similar to those reported by Good et al. and Rogers et al. These researchers concluded that the similar dimensionality observed across all three studies provides support for the structural validity of the GRCS. Norwalk et al. (2011 ) conducted a CFA on the GRCS with two independent samples (European American men, N = 483; African American men, N = 214). They used an alternative models approach to determine how many factors best fi t the data, with results indicating that, in comparison to the other models tested, a four-factor solution offered better fi t. Factorial invariance across the two samples revealed the models were the same, suggesting that GRCS’ dimensionality was the same across both samples. However, similar to past research, the authors reported that most fi t indexes failed to meet recommended cutoff values (Good et al. 1995 ; Rogers et al. 1997 ; Moradi et al. 2000 ). Three modifi ed versions of the GRCS exist: (a) a short-form measure and (b) an adolescent measure and its Korean counterpart. Each measure will be discussed briefl y. Short-Form Version . Wester et al. (2012 ) developed a short-form version of the GRCS (GRCS-SF). An exploratory factor analysis was conducted on the GRCS items (37 items) using a random sample of participants ( N = 399) from previously published studies (Total N = 1,415; Wester et al. 2006a, b; Wester et al. 2005 ; Wester et al. 2007 ). A four-factor model was forced and items with the highest loadings on each factor were retained (4 items per factor, 16 items in total). The reliability coeffi cients of the factors were RE = .77, RABBM = .78, SPC = .80, and CBWFR = .77. A confi rmatory factor analysis then was conducted on the 16 items using the remaining sample of 1,031. The four-factor model was supported with acceptable scores on a number of fi t indexes (e.g., CFI = .96; TLI = .96; RMSEA = .057) and was superior to a one-factor model. Using a separate sample of 495 college students, the researchers examined the correlations between the 22 C.Ó. Beaglaoich et al.

GRCS and the GRCS-SF. They found the two measures to be signifi cantly related and the corresponding subscales of each measure to be substantially correlated (range = .90–.96). Unfortunately, the authors appear to have computed these correlations between the short and long forms using the same sample. As noted by Smith et al. (2000 ), this is a common “methodological sin” (p. 105) because it invariably infl ates the resultant correlation coeffi cients (i.e., the items in the short form are being counted twice). An adolescent version of the GRCS also was developed (GRCS-A; Blazina et al. 2005 ). A sample of 464 male students (aged 13–18; M = 16.2 years) completed measures of masculinity (Male Role Attitude Scale; MRAS; Thompson and Pleck 1986), psychological distress (Conners-Wells’ Adolescent Self-Report Scale; CASS, Conners and Wells 1997 ), the GRCS (adult), and the adapted measure (GRCS-A). The latter consisted of original GRCS (adult) items and an unspecifi ed number of altered items. Item content was adjusted to ensure they were “develop- mentally appropriate” for an adolescent population (e.g., “When I am sexually involved with others, I do not express my strong feelings” was modifi ed to “When I am personally involved with others, I do not express my strong feelings”). An exploratory factor analysis was conducted on the items, resulting in 29 retained items and a four-factor solution that accounted for 40.9 % of the total variance. The observed four-factor solution consisted of factors equivalent to those reported for the GRCS, three of which were renamed to capture what the cluster of items represented (i.e., the CBWFR subscale was named “Confl ict Between Work, School, and Family” [CBWSF]; “Success, Power, and Competition” was renamed “Need for Success and Achievement” [NSA]; and the RABBM was named “Restricted Affection Between Men” [RAM]). Scale score reliability coeffi cients ranged from .70 to .82 and test- retest reliability scores were .60 for CBWSF, .95 for NSA, .83 for RAM, and .87 for RE. The GRCS-A correlated strongly with the GRCS (r = .88) and modestly with the MRAS (r = .37). However, the former correlation may be infl ated given the “methodological sin” (Smith et al. 2000) alluded to earlier (i.e., some of the same items were being measured in the short and long forms). Finally, Blazina et al. (2007 ) observed signifi cant correlations between the GRCS-A and the Adolescent Masculine Ideology in Relationships Scale (AMIRS; Chu et al. 2005 ; r = .45). The GRCS-A has been adapted for use in other cultural contexts such as Korea (K-GRCS-A: Kim et al. 2009 ). Kim et al. translated the 29-item GRCS-A to Korean, with items back translated to English by a bilingual translator. A third translator verifi ed the translation and back translation and one of the items (i.e., “It’s hard for me to express my emotional needs to others”) was identifi ed as having a potentially different connotation from the original item. Cronbach alpha coeffi cients for the four subscales ranged from .67 to .80, and scores on the K-GRCS-A correlated positively with measures of depression (r = .29) and anxiety ( r = .48) and negatively with self-esteem (r = −.29). Further research using the K-GRCS-A found that self-esteem mediated the relationship between gender role confl ict and depression; that is, individuals experiencing greater levels of confl ict evidenced lower levels of self-esteem which, in turn, was associated with greater levels of depression (Choi et al. 2010 ). New Directions in Gender Role Confl ict Research 23

Critiquing the Psychometric Properties of the GRCS

Numerous criticisms have been directed against the development and validation of the GRCS. In this review, critiques of the GRCS will be presented and extended to the GRCS-SF, GRCS-A, and the K-GRCS-A. Critiques speciﬁ c to the GRCS-A then will be discussed.

Do the GRCS Items Refl ect Confl ict as Defi ned by the GRC Theory?

In the development of the GRCS items, 85 items were generated, distributed, and factor analyzed (O’Neil et al. 1986). GRC has been operationally defi ned by devaluation, restriction, and violation; however, in O’Neil et al.’s (1986 ) study, no systematic approach appears to have been taken to generate items to incorporate these elements of GRC. Consequently, some researchers have observed that items on the GRCS do not refl ect confl ict as it ordinarily understood, that is, confl ict being a “result of two competing response tendencies” (Betz and Fitzgerald 1993 , p. 360). Indeed, in his review article, the developer of the measure concedes that some of the items on the GRCS could be rewritten to assess confl ict more directly (O’Neil 2008a ).

Does the GRCS Cover the Breadth of the GRC Theory?

O ’Neil et al. (1986 ) did not specify what situational contexts were included in the initial item pool and a number of conceptual problems exist due to not providing criteria for their inclusion. First, it cannot be ascertained whether the 48 items excluded from the original item pool were related to a particular situational context (i.e., were most of the items related to the confl ict associated with either conformity or endorsement of masculine norms?) Or did the items refl ect confl ict due to deviation from or nonconformity to masculine norms? What are the reasons for so few items refl ecting deviation from/failure to meet (1 item) masculine norms on the GRCS? Were items included to refl ect alternative situational contexts (i.e., GRC toward others or nonconformity) eliminated because they were unrelated to the endorsement of traditional masculine standards (gender role dysfunction)? Theoretically, masculine ideology is a cofactor of both GRC and the GRSP and masculine ideology measures have been used to validate the GRCS, evidencing positive correlations throughout the literature. However, given that GRC theory measures different situational contexts that compete with the notion of endorsing/ conforming to masculine ideology (i.e., deviating or violating gender role norms), then why would one expect to see positive correlations between these constructs? 24 C.Ó. Beaglaoich et al.

Put in a different way, by self-reporting low MI scores (i.e., not endorsing masculine standards), a person can still experience GRC. Further, if an individual experiences confl ict because of the presence of a masculine norm that he does not endorse, then why should MI correlate positively with the GRCS? This may refl ect two issues related to the GRCS: (a) content overlap and (b) emphasis on the confl icts relating to conformity to masculine norms (i.e., gender role dysfunction).

Is There an Issue with Content Overlap?

Research, to date, has not addressed the issue of content overlap as it pertains to the GRCS. Content overlap is problematic because it can infl ate correlations, which, in turn, affects the reliability and validity of the measure. Inspecting the GRCS items reveals possible overlap in relation to the RE factor. For example, three of the ten items in this factor (i.e., “Talking (about my feelings) during sexual relations is diffi cult for me” [item 13], “Telling others of my strong feelings is not part of my sexual behavior” [item 22], and “Telling my partner my feelings about him/her during sex is diffi cult for me” [item 30]) seem to measure the same aspect of restricted emotionality in relation to sexual behavior. Further, two other items (i.e., “I have diffi culty expressing my tender feelings” [item 19], and “I often have trouble fi nding words that describe how I am feeling” [item 25]) also share the same inability to express emotions. Two items on the CBWFR also seem to share the same meaning: item 11 (i.e., “My career, job, or school affects the quality of my leisure or family life”) and item 31 (i.e., “My work or school often disrupts other parts of my life [home, health, leisure]”).

Does the GRCS Emphasize Conﬂ icts Relating to Conformity to Masculine Norms?

As previously mentioned, the GRCS has been associated with the gender role dysfunction subtype of the GRSP. 3 O ’Neil (2008a ) deemed this subtype as having the most theoretical relevance to GRCS because it “implies negative outcomes from endorsing restrictive gender role norms” (p. 366). O’Neil et al. (1986 ) did not specify what situational contexts were included in the initial item pool and on the remaining items (37 items). As a result, there seems to be an overemphasis/focus on conﬂ icts associated with the endorsement of masculine standards/norms, in particular, the RE, RABBM, and SPC factors. In support of this assertion, the Conformity to Masculine Norms Inventory (CMNI; Mahalik et al. 2003 ) has been shown to correlate highly with the GRCS. The CMNI was developed to measure men’s conformity to 11 masculine norms: “Winning,” “Emotional Control,” “Risk New Directions in Gender Role Conﬂ ict Research 25

Taking,” “Violence,” “Power over Women,” “Dominance,” “Playboy,” “Self- Reliance,” “Primacy of Work,” “Disdain for Homosexuals,” and “Pursuit of Status.” It differs from masculine ideology measures because the former assesses the extent that men endorse/reject masculine norms, whereas the CMNI measures the extent to which men either conform or do not conform to masculine norms (Levant 2011 ). The CMNI and the GRCS were signifi cantly correlated at r = .56 (p. <0.001) and corresponding subscales were very highly correlated. For example, the SPC correlated with nine of the CMNI subscales and was highly correlated with the “Winning,” “Dominance,” and “Pursuit of Status” subscales: r s = .52, 59, and .42, respectively. RE was signifi cantly correlated with eight of the CMNI factors and correlated highly with “Emotional Control” at r = .66. RABBM correlated signifi cantly with seven of the CMNI subscales and highly correlated with “Disdain for Homosexuals” and “Emotional Control” at r = .40 and r = .39, respectively. However, CBWFR correlated signifi cantly with only two CMNI factors, the highest being its correlation with “Primacy of Work” (r = .21). Some of these correlations are of concern because the GRCS and CMNI are interrelated yet conceptually distinct with the former referring to confl ict and the latter referring to conformity to masculine norms; interestingly, higher correlations between CMNI and the GRCS (i.e., RE, RABBM, and SPC) than between masculine ideology scores and the GRCS were observed. The range of the gender role confl icts present in the scale may be too narrow and may not refl ect the breadth or the global nature of the GRC framework. Thompson et al. (1992 ) criticized the narrow range of gender role confl icts present in the GRCS on the grounds that it excludes nontraditional masculinity standards. For example, gender role confl icts can be experienced by men who engage in nontraditional roles such as men employed as nurses and engaging in full-time childcare. GRC is theorized to be experienced in three contexts: (a) within the self, (b) caused by others, and (c) expressed toward others (O’Neil 1990). The latter occurs when individuals devalue, restrict, or violate other individuals because they deviate from, or fail to conform to, masculinity ideology norms (O’Neil 2008a ). However, this facet of the theory is not represented in GRCS items. Inspection of scale content suggests that only 1 out of 37 questions measures the expression of GRC toward others, albeit in a subtle way. The item (i.e., “I evaluate other people’s value by their level of achievement and success”) is arguably measuring “devaluation” as defi ned by O’Neil ( 2008a). However, as a consequence of this item displaying the largest standardized residual and failing to meet an a priori effect size criterion of 10% in a CFA result among a sample of European American men, Norwalk et al. (2011 ) advised deleting the item to improve model fi t. Norwalk et al. also observed that this item failed to meet the same criteria for effect size in a separate sample of African American men. In further development of the GRCS-SF, Wester et al. (2012 ) did not retain this item (i.e., the item loaded at .55 and, thus, did not meet the retention criteria of > .68). It is the incorporation of the defi nitions of devaluations, restrictions, and violations and various situational contexts 4 in which GRC is experienced that differentiates GRC items and masculinity ideology items. The endorsement of a masculinity 26 C.Ó. Beaglaoich et al. item does not differentiate between males that are affected by the presence of an expectation/masculine norm and males that merely acknowledge the existence of, but are not affected by, this expectation/masculine norm. The development of the items and the conceptual issues raised affect each of the GRCS measures, namely, the GRCS, the GRCS-SF, the GRCS-A, and the K-GRCS-A and their equivalent subscales.

Does the GRCS Possess Face Validity?

GRCS . In the development of the GRCS, and subsequently for the GRCS-SF, there is no reference to face validity (i.e., items were not reviewed by individuals for whom the scale was designed—namely, men). Hardesty and Bearden (2004 ) contend that face validity is essential “since inferences are made based on the fi nal scale items and, therefore, they must be deemed face valid if we are to have confi dence in any inferences made using the fi nal scale form” (p. 99). Further, items that are not deemed face valid characterize a measure that “cannot be a valid operationalization of the construct of interest” (Hardesty and Bearden 2004 , p. 99). Instead, items on the GRCS were developed based on theoretical papers (O’Neil 1981a , b ) and a perceived need to measure GRC, which emanated from the male and female liberation movements (O’Neil 2008a ). Critiques of SPC, RE, and CBWFR subscales of the GRCS are discussed below.

GRCS: Success, Power, and Competition Factor (SPC)

Three of the 13 items of the SPC factor are framed in terms of confl ict (e.g., failing to meet masculine standards and deviating from or violating standards of masculinity) and the remaining ten items measure different facets associated with masculine ideology, such as the importance of success, winning, competitiveness, and dominance of individual. Examples of these non-confl ict items are: “Moving up the career ladder is important to me,” “Making money is part of my idea of being a successful man,” “I strive to be more successful than others,” and “Being smarter or physically stronger than other men is important to me.” The SPC factor has been criticized for measuring masculinity ideology more broadly than gender role confl ict (Betz and Fitzgerald 1993 ). Walker et al. (2000 ) found high correlations between the SPC factor and the four-factors of the Brannon Masculinity Scale (BMS; Brannon and Juni 1984 ; r s = .36–.56). They contend that the SPC factor might be better conceptualized as a measure of adherence to “traditional male role norms (i.e., masculine ideology) than masculine gender role confl ict” (p. 105). Berger et al. (2005 ) also supported these fi ndings by identifying a strong correlation (r = .50) between SPC and the Male Role Norms Inventory- Revised (MRNI-R; Levant and Fischer 1998 as cited in Levant 2011 ). Further, New Directions in Gender Role Confl ict Research 27 a majority of the SPC items do not directly assess men’s GRC, and therefore, SPC is “defi ned as a masculine norms/ideology factor that more indirectly assesses GRC by measuring personal attitudes about success pursued through competition and power” (O’Neil 2008a , p. 401). Three items measure confl ict on the SPC factor, namely, “I worry about failing and how it affects my doing well as a man” (i.e., measuring situational contexts of “failing to meet masculine standards of success”), “I evaluate other people’s value by their level of achievement and success” (i.e., assessing the situational contexts of “devaluing others for failing to meet masculine standards of success”), and “I am often concerned about how others evaluate my performance at work or school” (i.e., measuring situational contexts whereby devaluation occurs “due to failing to meet masculine standards of success”). Unfortunately, all three items failed to meet a priori effect size criterion in CFAs conducted with two samples of men (Norwalk et al. 2011 ). The latter item loaded on the CBWFR factor and was the largest contribution of misfi t. In the same study, 30% of GRCS items failed to meet a priori effect size criterion on the European American sample and 46% of items on the GRCS failed to meet a priori effect size (R2 = .10) for the African American sample. The authors qualifi ed that the fi ndings may be a result of modeling invariance but suggested that it still highlights potential “weaknesses in the scale” and could supply support for “revision to the scale” (p. 138). Further, the presence of a less than optimal factor (i.e., SPC) is problematic for the fi eld of men and masculinities because inferences have been made about the factor and other constructs. For example, Galligan et al. (2010 ) measured resilience in adolescent males, using the GRCS; SPC correlated with positive coping strategies. The authors then reported that “the SPC component pattern of gender role confl ict was associated with a positive change in resilience” (Galligan et al. p. 16). However, as the SPC does not measure confl ict per se, the authors’ interpretation that an element of gender role confl ict correlates with resilience is misleading.

Is the Conﬂ ict Between Work and Family Relations (CBWFR) Subscale Conceptually Meaningful Within the Framework of GRC?

CBWFR has been questioned in relation to whether it is unique to masculinity because it is experienced by both men and women (Zamarripa et al. 2003 as cited in Liu et al. 2005 ). The CBWFR factor was not designed to measure GRC in women but “the results suggest that some aspects of GRC may be universal” for both sexes (Liu et al. 2005 , p. 138). However, contemporary theorizing suggests that masculinity and femininity are germane to both men and women. Therefore, the conﬂ ict identiﬁ ed by the CBWFR subscale may be best regarded as masculine in nature— albeit with the understanding that both sexes potentially experience it. Regardless, queries about the psychometric properties of this factor have been raised. 28 C.Ó. Beaglaoich et al.

Low correlations between masculinity measures and this component have been documented (Walker et al. 2000 ; p < .21 on Brannon Masculinity Scale). Also, as noted earlier, Mahalik et al. (2003 ) observed signiﬁ cant correlations between the CBWFR and only two of nine CMNI factors: “Primacy of Work” and “Dominance,” r = .21 and .16, respectively. Norwalk et al. ( 2011) observed that the four-factor structure of the GRCS did not meet the established ﬁ t criteria and suggested that “revisions are needed particularly for the CBWFR items” (p. 141).

Is the Restricted Emotionality (RE) Subscale Content Valid?

RE has been described as the “best predictor of stress levels” (Good et al. 1995 , p. 3). When creating the GRCS, O’Neil et al. (1986 ) developed scale items to refl ect the RE theme, defi ning it as “having diffi culty expressing one’s feelings or denying others their rights to emotional expressiveness” (p. 340). However, inspection of the items on the GRCS (ten items) and subsequent measures (e.g., GRCS-A, 8 items) reveals that none of them refl ect “denying others their right to emotional expression” (p. 340). If items refl ecting the aforementioned defi nition of RE were included in the original item pool, the reasons for their removal remain unclear. Does the non-emergence of items refl ecting GRC toward others in the GRCS mean that this aspect possesses little relevance to GRC theory? Or, perhaps, these sorts of items were not included in the original item pool? Regardless, the original defi nition of RE is not refl ected in the RE factor.

Is the Response Format Used Compatible with the GRCS Items?

Another point of concern is the response format employed by the GRCS. Ryan and Gartland (1999 ) argue that having a nonresponse option may hold valuable information for the researcher. If the patterns of responses are not random, then it may indicate that respondents are experiencing diffi culty because of the wording of an item or possess a “genuine lack of opinion” (p. 108). The advantages of including a “don’t know” or a non-forced choice response option is that if problems such as evasion or contamination arise, these issues can be corrected retrospectively (Dolnicar and Rossiter 2009 ). Also, three items loading on the SPC factor (i.e., “I often feel that I need to be in charge of those around me,” “I sometimes defi ne my personal value by my career success,” and “I am often concerned about how others evaluate my performance at work or school”), one item loading on the RE factor (i.e., “I often have trouble fi nding words that describe how I am feeling”), and one item in the RABBM factor (i.e., “I am sometimes hesitant to show my affection to men”) do not really fi t with a strongly agree/disagree response format. The use of words to describe “prevalence” such as “often” and “sometimes” are problematic because self-reporting New Directions in Gender Role Confl ict Research 29

“strongly disagree” to these items may still denote some level of “conﬂ ict.” For example, “strongly disagreeing” that you “often feel the need to be in charge of those around you” does not logically imply an absence of this need.

Are the Aforementioned Critiques Applicable to the GRCS-A?

None of the psychometric concerns that have been raised about the GRCS were addressed in the adolescent version of the GRCS developed by Blazina et al. (2005 ) and the subsequent Korean version (K-GRCS-A). Content Validity. Blazina et al. adapted the items from the adult GRCS. Items that had been previously criticized for not refl ecting confl ict were not changed/improved and only nominal modifi cations were made to item content (e.g., “When I am sexually involved with others, I do not express my strong feelings” was changed to “When I am personally involved with others, I do not express my strong feelings”). Critically, in the development of the GRCS-A (and the K-GRCS-A), adolescents did not inform item generation and no contact was made with adolescents to see if the factors were relevant to them (i.e., there is no reference to face or content validity). A psychometrically sound measure that targets adolescent boys should be “grounded in and relevant to [their] experiences” (Chu et al. 2005 , p. 99) as there may be factors used in adult scales that are irrelevant or there may be latent factors that have been unexplored or unrealized due to not involving adolescents in the development of the scale. One qualitative research paper has specifi cally investigated GRC in adolescence. Watts and Borders (2005 ) examined whether GRC theory and, more specifi cally, the four-factors of the GRCS and its modifi ed version (GRCS-A) resonated with a small sample of American adolescent boys ( N = 11, M = 16.2 years, SD = 1.18). The authors reported general support for the theory and recommended that the wording of some of the items of the GRCS-A be modifi ed (i.e., “men” be changed to “males”). A major limitation with this study, however, is that the authors constrained the boys’ analysis to the four subscales derived from GRC theory. Thus, the boys were unable to describe forms of gender confl ict that (potentially) operate outside the boundaries established by the initial formulation of GRC theory. Also, a systematic approach to asking boys what items were suitable/not suitable was not undertaken by the researchers nor were participants asked how they would reframe/improve certain items. Recent developments in a masculine ideology scale for adolescents (Oransky and Fisher 2009 ) highlight the importance of involving adolescents in the scale development process. The “Meanings of Adolescent Masculinity Scale” (MAMS) aimed to assess the “degree to which one endorses or rejects traditional male roles” (p. 59). This measure of masculine ideology was informed by a qualitative investigation “of boy’s” conceptions of what it means to be masculine in today’s society” (Oransky and Fisher 2009 , p. 61). The MAMS contains four subscales: 30 C.Ó. Beaglaoich et al.

“Constant Effort” (i.e., boys must maintain a confi dent, tough, and strong image in order to perform masculinity), “Emotional Restriction” (i.e., boys need to be stoic and refrain from sharing their feelings with others in order to be masculine), “Heterosexism” (i.e., one must not show any attitudes and behaviors associated with femininity or homosexuality), and “Social Teasing” (i.e., boys must be able to tease other boys and stand up to teasing from other boys in order to be masculine). 5 Factors such as “Constant Effort” and “Social Teasing” were identifi ed as unique factors in the MAMS and underscore the importance of involving members of the target population for which the scale has been developed (i.e., adolescent males). Through discussions with adolescents, this masculine norm and expectation was identifi ed and items refl ecting the salience of this dynamic for adolescent males were included in the development of the MAMS. Further, Cournoyer and Mahalik (1995 ) found that men may experience different patterns of GRC at different developmental stages, suggesting that adolescent males (potentially) adhere to aspects of masculine ideology dissimilar to their adult counterparts. Response Format. The same 6-point response option used in the GRCS was adopted (i.e., “Strongly Disagree” to “Strongly Agree”). One item loading on the RE factor (i.e., “I often have trouble fi nding words that describe how I am feeling”) and one item in the RABBM factor (i.e., “I am sometimes hesitant to show my affection to men”) are not optimal with a strongly agree/disagree response format. Subscale Diffi culties. Notwithstanding the criticism of the SPC factor (i.e., that it measures masculine ideology instead of GRC), this issue was not addressed in the development of the GRCS-A (Blazina et al. 2005 ). The SPC factor was reduced from 13 items to 6 on a factor now labeled, the “Need for Success and Achievement” (NSA). The absence of items refl ecting competition and power over others was notable due to six of those items being excluded from the adapted version and one further item “I judge other people’s value by their level of achievement and success,” loading onto the “Confl ict Between Work, School, and Family” factor. Most of the remaining items focus on the importance of success through competition, the importance of money, and doing well (e.g., “Doing well all the time is important to me” and “I strive to be more successful than others”). Blazina et al. ( 2005 ) also observed that the NSA was the only factor not related to negative mental health indicators noting that “results may suggest this subscale is more refl ective of the positive aspects of masculine ideology rather than measuring gender-role confl ict” (p. 43) and suggested that striving for success during adolescence is a protective factor against “conduct disturbance” (p. 43). These results are similar to those reported by Galligan et al. (2010 ). They, too, suggested that different items need to be developed and that further research relating to success, power, and competition be conducted. Further, items of the NSA factor were changed to include drive for success within the area of school (e.g., “I sometimes defi ne my personal value by my career success” was changed to “Sometimes I defi ne my personal value by my success at school”). This change occurred despite research suggesting that doing well New Directions in Gender Role Confl ict Research 31 in sports may be a great priority for boys (Messner 1992 ; Steinfeldt et al. 2011 ). Items focusing on athletic prowess may have been more appropriate. The equivalent CBWFR factor for the GRCS-A (i.e., CWSF) has been criticized by Watts and Border (2005 ), whose qualitative research indicated that CBWFR related only to older adolescents. The item content was criticized for the inclusion of activities such as “career” and “job,” activities that did not apply to younger adolescents and the omission of extracurricular activities, which are germane to this age group. Age Appropriateness. A different constellation of masculine ideology exists for adolescent males than their adult counterparts (Oransky and Fisher 2009 ) and it is reasonable to assume that this constellation produces unique expectations, pressures, and restrictions to this age cohort. Some of the features that differentiate adolescent males’ experiences from their adult counterparts are (a) dependence on parents, (b) living at home, (c) pressures from school (e.g., teachers), and (d) being in close proximity with others their own age (e.g., girls and boys). Further, the relevance of different forms of masculinity may be more intense for younger males, especially those functioning within an institutional setting such as secondary school—an environment which Connell (2005 ) describes as “a masculinity making device” (p. 131). Inspection of the GRCS-A suggests that these unique “confl icts” are not captured. Cultural Suitability. The social constructionist view (or psychosocial view) of gender acknowledges that cultures have different norms with different expectations about masculinity and that masculinity “does not exist within a person, but rather within an interaction between a person’s experience and the norms of their culture” (Kahn 2009 , p. 211). Whorley and Addis (2006 ) noted that the predominant research methodologies in the area of men and masculinities printed in US journals are quan- titative in nature. They advocate that more qualitative research be conducted, in particular, research outside of North America. This recommendation concurs with several researchers’ suggestion that cross-cultural analyses of GRC are essential (e.g., O’Neil 2008b ; Wester 2008 ). Further, Hearn and colleagues (2002 ) state that research in Ireland has been “slow to incorporate the study of men and masculinities into gender studies, and men as gendered subjects have remained largely outside of the gaze of critical [inquiry]” (p. 393). According to the authors, in comparison to research conducted in North America and the United Kingdom, Irish work in the fi eld of men and masculinity has “barely begun” (p. 394).

Purpose

The purpose of the current investigation was to determine how the GRC theory and, more speciﬁ cally, the scale items of the GRCS-A were evaluated by a sample of Irish adolescent males. We believe this type of inquiry serves as a critical step in formulating a measure of GRC that is better attuned to the lived experiences of adolescent boys. 32 C.Ó. Beaglaoich et al.

Method

Participants

As part of a qualitative examination of the patterns of gender role conﬂ ict among Irish adolescents, a subsample of 41 boys was recruited from six secondary schools in the Republic of Ireland. Their mean age was 15 years and 10 months (SD = 1.6 years; range 13–19 years). Nine focus groups were conducted, with the number of discussants per group ranging from 2 (one focus group) to 5 (four focus groups). To maximize the repre- sentativeness of discussants’ experiences, boys from every school year were targeted (i.e., one focus group was conducted with 1st year, 2nd year, 3rd year, 5th year, and 6th year students and four focus groups were carried out with 4th year students). 6 Four individual interviews also were conducted (i.e., interviews were conducted with 1st, 2nd, 5th, and 6th year students). Participants were recruited from six schools from both the east and west of Ireland; two schools were from urban areas (i.e., School A and B, both in Dublin city), one school was from a semi-urban area (i.e., School C, in Tralee, Co. Kerry), and three schools were from rural areas (i.e., School D, Co. Kerry; School E, Co. Clare; and School F, Co. Mayo). Two of these schools were English-speaking (School E and F) and four were Irish-speaking schools; however, all of the boys enrolled in the latter institutions were ﬂ uent in English. No differences emerged in terms of thematic content between participants from Irish-speaking and English-speaking schools. Four of these schools were coeducational schools, one school was an all-boys school (E), and one school had mixed-sex classes for senior cycles (School B; 5th and 6th year). Again, no differences emerged in terms of thematic content between participants from mixed-sex and single-sex schools.

Procedure

Ethical approval was obtained from the Research Ethics Committee at the National University of Ireland, Galway. Schools were contacted by post or by email and were followed up by phone or, when practical, a face-to-face meeting with the principal of the school. Following approval from the board of management of each school, times and dates were scheduled for the senior author to come to the school and speak with students. To recruit participants, the researcher spoke in a number of classrooms outlining what involvement in the study would entail. Parental consent forms were handed out for students to bring to their parent(s)/guardian(s) to be signed. Only boys returning signed parental consent forms were permitted to take part in a focus group or individual interview. The interviews were scheduled for the following week and New Directions in Gender Role Confl ict Research 33 all were conducted within designated classrooms. Adhering to ethical guidelines, each interviewee and focus group discussant also signed a consent form, which outlined rights in terms of anonymity, confi dentiality, and freedom to withdraw from the study at any time without penalty. Prior to interviews convening, participants were told that there were two stages to the interview. Stage one involved a general discussion and stage two involved participants discussing a questionnaire. Interviews and focus group discussions were recorded and transcribed verbatim. Individual interviews lasted between 23 and 80 min (M = 48, SD = 19.8), whereas the focus groups ran from 39 to 120 min (M = 59, SD = 18.9). Measures Gender Role Confl ict Scale for Adolescent (GRCS-A)—discussed above Question guide At the start of the interviews/focus groups, participants were informed that they could say anything they wanted. A conversational exchange was encouraged at the beginning of the interview/focus group by asking participants general questions (e.g., “What is your age?” and “What classes are you taking at school?”). Stage 1 consisted of questions that were designed to identify the stresses, expectations, and masculine norms prevalent among Irish adolescent males. To minimize the possible impact of the researchers’ preconceived ideas and expectancies, questions were open-ended and, initially, broadly framed (e.g., “I’m interested in the kinds of stress that young people experience and I was hoping you could say something about this”—see Appendix 1 for the full interview guide). A list of current themes in the literature was compiled, and as topics naturally arose during the interviews, these themes were checked off the list. Themes that were not explored during the course of the interview/focus group were revisited near the end (e.g., “If there was something bothering a friend of yours, would he talk to somebody about it?”). All questions were subject to revision; that is, any questions participants did not understand and/or had diffi culty answering were rephrased. Participants also were encouraged to elaborate on certain topics by use of prompts (e.g., “Can you say a bit more about that?”). Stage 2 involved presenting the GRCS-A to participants. Initially, they were asked to read through all the items and to make note of the suitability and appropriateness of each question and they were given 10 minutes to do so. Participants were asked open-ended questions regarding how they regarded the items on the questions. For example, participants were asked “Related to what we have been taking about just now, I was wondering if you’d mind reading through this questionnaire and tell me if you think these questions apply to Irish boys?” Participants were encouraged to discuss the content of each item, paying particular attention to the issue of cultural relevance (i.e., did the item have relevance to their lives as adolescents residing within the Republic of Ireland?). Items that lacked clarity and relevance were discussed and suggestions on improving items’ phrasing and wording were explored. Items that had particular relevance to male adolescents also were noted. 34 C.Ó. Beaglaoich et al.

Analysis

Stage 2 was the primary focus of this analysis. All of the focus groups (N = 9) and personal interviews (N = 4) relating to stage 2 were reviewed by the principal investigator and seven transcripts of focus groups and interviews were sent to coauthor B (four focus groups and three individual interviews). In accordance with guidelines set out by Braun and Clarke (2006 ), thematic analysis consisted of fi ve phases. Phase 1 involved becoming familiar with the data through reading the transcripts repeatedly. Interesting and important aspects of the transcripts, including fi gures of speech, phraseology, and gender dichotomies, were noted. In Phase 2, the principal investigator and coauthor read the transcripts and developed codes for text that was perceived as relevant to (1) masculine ideologies, idealized representations of masculinity and masculine norms; (2) gender role confl ict; (3) the appropriateness of each item; (4) the participants’ general impression of the scale; and (5) the positive and negative aspects of each item. In all cases, the principal investigator met with the coauthor to ensure that their identifi ed codes refl ecting, for example, masculine ideology and GRC, were similar. The remainder of the transcripts then were coded independently by each individual and grouped into themes (Phase 3). Phase 4 involved reviewing the quoted extracts to see if they fi t the generated themes. Any emergent discrepancies between the principal investigator and coauthor B were discussed and resolved. Themes were then further refi ned in which the names and defi nitions of themes were consolidated (Phase 5). The frequency of approval and disapproval of each item was calculated by the primary investigator.

Results

These discussions highlighted three themes concerning the use of the GRCS-A. Respondents indicated that some items (1) were inappropriately worded/ phrased and irrelevant to the experiences of Irish adolescent males, (2) were deemed as being more appropriate for girls or homosexual boys, and (3) would cause some boys not to take the exercise seriously.

Theme 1: Inappropriate Wording/Phrasing

During the interview discussions, the boys highlighted a select number of problematic items related to the GRCS-A (i.e., items 1, 2, 4, 6, 7, 12, 13, 18, 21, 24 and 26, New Directions in Gender Role Conﬂ ict Research 35

Table 1 The frequency and percentages for each item’s approval and disapproval % % % % % of answered of answered of total of total of nonre- √ x Nonresponse items (√) items (x) items (√) items (x) sponse items Item 1 6 27 8 18 82 15 66 19 Item 2 8 24 9 25 75 20 59 21 Item 3 20 4 17 83 17 49 10 41 Item 4 11 14 16 44 56 27 34 39 Item 5 19 4 18 83 17 43 10 47 Item 6 11 10 20 52 48 27 24 49 Item 7 7 16 18 30 70 17 39 44 Item 8 20 3 18 87 13 49 7 44 Item 9 12 12 16 50 50 29 29 42 Item 10 14 6 11 70 30 34 15 51 Item 11 16 9 26 64 36 39 22 39 Item 12 16 12 14 57 43 39 29 32 Item 13 11 13 17 46 54 27 32 41 Item 14 15 7 19 68 32 37 17 46 Item 15 17 6 18 74 26 41 15 44 Item 16 18 4 19 82 18 44 10 46 Item 17 9 10 22 47 53 22 24 54 Item 18 13 9 19 59 41 32 22 46 Item 19 10 13 18 44 56 24 17 59 Item 20 14 7 20 67 33 34 17 49 Item 21 15 6 20 63 37 37 15 48 Item 22 18 4 19 82 18 44 10 46 Item 23 13 8 20 62 38 32 20 48 Item 24 5 14 22 26 74 12 34 54 Item 25 16 6 19 73 27 39 15 46 Item 26 10 7 24 59 41 24 17 59 Item 27 11 8 22 58 42 27 20 53 Item 28 14 4 23 78 22 34 10 56 Item 29 11 13 17 46 54 27 32 41 Note: 9 of the 29 items received greater proportions of disapproval

and 29—see Table 1 for evaluation of items by adolescents and see Appendix 2 for the wording of these items). These items were grouped into the following sub- themes: (a) problems with wording and phrasing of particular items (items 1, 2, 6, 7, 12, 13, 29), (b) contextual issues of items (item 4), (c) focus of items (items 18, 21, 24, and 26), and (d) cultural differences reﬂ ected in constructed items (items 1, 2, and 7). The frequency of each item’s approval and disapproval was also estimated (see Table 1 ). 36 C.Ó. Beaglaoich et al.

Problems with Wording and Phrasing of Items

Item (1) “Verbally expressing my love to another man is hard for me” Fiun: “I’m not gay.” Joe: “Yeah, what the hell.” Fiun: “Is hard for…” Aengus: “It still sounds wrong.” Cillian: “Take out the love part.” Derick: “Why would we express our love to one another?” (Focus group, 4th year, age 15 years old) Twenty-seven out of 33 participants across both focus groups and individual interviews disapproved of this item, many of whom highlighted the word “love” as being inappropriate for use with adolescent samples. Responses to this item, which refl ects restrictive affection between men (RABBM), illustrate that intimate expression between men does not appear to be part of the adolescent male script. This was evident in Derick’s response (above) when he questioned “why would we [i.e., adolescent boys] express love to one another?” Further, one of the participants wrote beside this item “No, because I don’t fi nd any man attractive” (focus group, 1st year student, aged 12–13 years old). However, the boys participating in this study made it clear they “knew” they were friends with one another through actions and nonverbal expressions. For example, “going downtown together during lunch time” or “staying over in a friend’s house” or “playing football” with one another were ways of “doing,” “showing,” and “knowing” friendship. The phrase “hard for me” was highlighted in a number of instances and was followed by laughter because boys associated this phrase with getting an erection. When boys were asked how they would improve the item, some suggested changing the words “verbally,” “love,” and “hard for me” (see below). Graham: “Verbally expressing my love to another man” is that I’m not being funny but it…. All: [laughing] Graham: Sorry, sorry… I’m not being funny, but in a gay way or in a friend way? Bernard: Yeah. Interviewer: Sorry? Graham: Did you mean that in a gay way or straight? Interviewer: I think they mean in a friendship way. Pádraig: Nobody is ever going to say that. Alex: Yeah… Graham: Yeah, I’d say if you make it in a different context. Alex: Maybe, ah. Interviewer: How would you? Alex: Showing that…. Graham: It’s diffi cult for me to tell my friends how much they mean to me. Bernard: Yeah. Alex: Yeah. New Directions in Gender Role Confl ict Research 37

(Focus group, 4th year, aged 15–16 years old) Item ( 2) “Affection with other men makes me tense” All: [laughter] Eamon: … it’s getting weirder. Padraig: … yeah, it is. Eamon: I don’t get [feel] comfortable about these questions … (Focus group, 4th year, 15 years old) Twenty-four out of 32 participants across both focus groups and individual interviews disapproved of this item. Joe: “Affection with another man makes me tense”… that’s kind of, again, very strong like… am… “affection with another man makes me tense”… what kind of affection, hugging or something? Well, you wouldn’t be affectionate, you’d kind of do, you just kinda d’you know punch them in the arm and kind of laugh about it. You go “Oh ya you are sound guy” like, d’you know, it wouldn’t make you tense like really… uncomfortable I suppose would be a better word than tense. (Individual Interview, 6th year, aged 18 years and 4 months) In response to this item, one boy wrote on the questionnaire “No, unless they are near my thing [penis]” (focus group, aged 12–13 years old, 1st year student). Graham suggested that the item be removed from the questionnaire. Alex: “Affection with other men” yeah it does “makes me tense.” Very… am don’t say that even, cause its… All: [laughing] Graham: I’d just get rid of that question. (Focus group, 4th year, aged 16 years old) Item 6 – “Being personal with other men makes me feel anxious” Ten out of 21 participants across both focus groups and individual interviews disapproved of this item. Respondents commented on the use of the word “anxious,” suggesting that it was “too strong a word” (Dara, individual interview, 14 years and 1 month), and Damien (focus group, 6th year, aged 17 years 11 months) suggested that the word “uncomfortable” would be more suitable for adolescent males. Item 7 – “Men who are too friendly to me make me wonder about their sexual preference” Sixteen out of 23 participants across both focus groups and individual interviews disapproved of this item. Some of the respondents believed that this item was too broadly framed and lacked clarity and that certain situational contexts should be included. 38 C.Ó. Beaglaoich et al.

Graham: “Men who are too friendly to me make me wonder about their sexual preference.” Pádraig: Defi nitely not. Bernard: I don’t think they do. Interviewer: Is that ok? Graham: It depends on how friendly friendly is. (Focus group, 4th group, 15–16 year olds) Being “too friendly” was highlighted as something that men don’t really show, and by being “too friendly,” your sexuality was going to be questioned. This is illustrated in the following exchange: Tim: I dunno you don’t fi nd men, you wouldn’t fi nd men too friendly like, I suppose the odd one alright. Anthony: You’d be wondering what’s the story with him like d’you know? Interviewer: Would you be wondering if he was gay? Anthony: Yeah, you would I suppose, yeah. (Focus group, 5th year, 17 years old) The item does refl ect a dynamic present in adolescent lived experiences; however, most boys did not agree with the item as it was presented. As Eoin commented, “you wouldn’t put those words in it.” Certain words and phrases present in items 12, 13, and 29 were not understood by participants. For example, in response to item 12 (i.e., “It ’s hard for me to express my emotional needs to others” —12 out of 28 participants across both focus groups and individual interviews disapproved of this item), Graham said “What are emotional needs? I don’t know if we’re all thinking that [the same thing] but I don’t know what it really means.” In response to item 13 (i.e., “When I am personally involved with others, I do not express my strong feelings”—13 out of 24 participants across both focus groups and individual interviews disapproved of this item), some respondents asked “what does personally involved mean? What do you mean by that?” (Dara, individual interview, 14 years and 1 month). Finally, for item 29 (i.e., “I strive to be more successful than others”—13 out of 24 participants across both focus groups and individual interviews disapproved of this item), Dominic, for instance, asked “what’s ‘strive’?” (focus group, 2nd year, age 15 years).

Contextual Difﬁ culties with Items

Item 4: Hugging other men is diffi cult for me Fourteen out of 25 participants across both focus groups and individual interviews disapproved of this item. Some of the participants highlighted that this item was unclear because under some circumstances “hugging” was acceptable. For example, Donal responded “I don’t really see the point in that question… it depends what way they’re hugging.” Eoin interjected by saying “if you’re hugging after you New Directions in Gender Role Confl ict Research 39 score a goal or you’re hugging because…you want a bit of loving [laugh].” Donal added “cause you’d be grand hugging someone after scoring a goal as I said, but if you just walked up to him on the street and hugged him… it’d be a bit odd like, playing for the wrong team like” (focus group, 4th year, 15 years old). Homonegative attitudes surfaced in this exchange, suggesting that in general, restrictions exist relating to intimate expressions between boys; however, under certain situational contexts (i.e., during sports games), physical displays of affection were acceptable. Other examples where “hugging” boys is permissible are articulated below: Joe: D’you know if you win a match, [would] you go up and hug them like, well, I suppose that could be a straightforward. Yeah, it could be a question; yeah, like, most fellas wouldn’t care about hugging another man like… you wouldn’t just go up and hug a lad like… am but I suppose if he came back after 17 years or something and seeing [him] for the fi rst time and you gave him a hug like I suppose that would be grand, and winning a match and… something like that… (Individual interview, 6th year, 17 years and 5 months) For the purpose of measurement, including a specifi c situational context to this item would be preferable because it would be less confusing to participants.

Focus of Certain Items (“School” Rather than “Sport” or Hobbies)

Items refl ecting the CBWSF factor (“My career, job, or school affects the quality of my leisure or family life” (item 18), “My need to work or study keeps me from my family or leisure more than I would like” (item 20) and “My work or school often disrupts other parts of my life” (item 21)) . Across all the interview discussions, 9 out of 24 boys disapproved of item 18, and 7 and 6 out of 21 boys disapproved of items 20 and 21, respectively. The appraisal of these item depended on whether the boys were in exam years (i.e., 3rd year or 5th or 6th year depending on the school). In a focus group interview with 4th year students, Alex qualifi ed these items by saying: “it depends. I suppose, if you’re in third year or sixth year.” Later in the interview, he said, “I suppose this year it’s grand [fi ne] because we don’t do much in school” (aged 16 years and 5 months). These items also emphasized the importance of “school” rather than “sport” or other hobbies, a criticism that emerged for items 23 “Overwork and stress caused by the need to achieve on the job or in school affects or/hurts my life,” 24 “Getting to the top of my class is important to me,” and 26 “Sometimes I defi ne my personal value by my success at school.” 7 Respondents noted that the emphasis of being good at “school” did not represent hegemonic masculinity within boys. For example, Tadhg explains that boys can strive to be good at many different activities and not necessarily “school.” Further, he suggests that people who are not good at sports tend to focus more on school, implying that sports rather than school is the hegemonic standard to which boys attempt to excel. 40 C.Ó. Beaglaoich et al.

Further, similar to Watts and Border’s (2005 ) ﬁ ndings, Tadhg notes that people have different interests depending on their self-identiﬁ cation (i.e., what their “image” is). Interviewer: Is that important for fellas? Tadhg: No, not in general; there’s always a few [people] that think “Oh you have to be [strive to be good at school], there [are] some people…. People like me [want] to be like the best at sport all of the time; it’s more important to me to be honest with you; there’s other people [that] say don’t play sports, they don’t have any other hobbies [that] they are good at, they’re good at school… Interviewer: It depends on what you’re kind of interested in. Tadhg: Yeah, there (are) lads in the year… they’re known as, they’re known as really good hurlers and there’s other people in the school and they’re known for being good at school and they feel that they have to be really good at school… I don’t think that question like… Interviewer: If it was reworded to kind of… Tadhg: If you like getting to the top of … yeah, of your hobby or something like that or, get to the top of whatever your image is. (Focus group, 6th year, 17–19 years old) Also, it was recommended to the delete the words “or hurts” from item 23 (focus group, aged 15 years old, 4th year students).

Cultural Appropriateness: “Like the Black People Say”

Many of the words used may refl ect cultural differences between Ireland and America. For example, Kevin commenting on the use of the word “love” (item 1) said “like the black people say” (Kevin, focus group, 2nd year, aged 14–15 years). This was followed by Dominic when he said “it’s too strong” (Dominic, focus group, 2nd year, aged 14–15 years). This may allude to cultural differences in Irish boys’ use of vocabulary, their interpretation of certain words, and their openness to using emotive words. A number of items were evaluated positively and deemed appropriate/suitable by adolescent. Items 3, 5, 8, 11, 12, 15, 16, and 22 evidenced the strongest levels of approval and refl ect items across each GRCS-A subscale. These items, except item 22, represent the diffi culty boys experience when deviating from the tradition of being non-expressive.

Theme 2: It’s for Homosexuals or Girls

Adolescent males interpreted the items in the RE and the RABBM factors as being more appropriate for girls or for homosexual boys. When a separate focus group was asked whether they believed the items were suitable for Irish adolescents, Bryan New Directions in Gender Role Conﬂ ict Research 41 and Joe said “No” and started to laugh. Fiún quickly answered by saying “Yes, if you’re giving these sheets to a woman they would” and Bryan added “It’s for homosexuals” (focus group, 4th year, 15 years old). Ciaran: I think its phrasing is a bit… it nearly makes you sound a bit, well not really, yeah, it kinda nearly makes you sound homosexual the way you say “expressing my love to another man”… (Individual interview, 6th year, aged 17 years and 5 months) As Donal (focus group) commented that “expressing my love just sounds like Romeo and Juliet like, Romeo and another man.”

Theme 3: Nobody Would Answer That Seriously

Some respondents said that the items presented would cause them or other boys not to take the exercise seriously. For example, when the focus group was presented with the item “Men who are too friendly to me make me wonder about their sexual preference” (item 7), Donal (focus group, 4th year, aged 15 years and 4 months) responded by saying “Nobody would answer that seriously, no boys… they’d only try and act funny; well, I would anyways.” When the group was asked what they thought about the items relating to the factor RABBM, Eoin replied “the fi rst fi ve or six, they’re shocking[ly] bad.” When asked what it was about the items they wouldn’t take seriously, Donal said “they’re all about loving men; who’s going to take that serious?” Further, Donal said “I wouldn’t take that serious… some people are just going to write down stuff…taking the piss.” The GRCS-A was presented to participants and they were asked to evaluate each item in the context of discussions during stage 1. Bryan said “I didn’t realize the questions would be like this.” Fiun said “I wouldn’t do it” (focus group, 4th year, 15 years old). Interestingly, during one of the focus group interviews, the interviewer left the room for a couple of minutes. In the meantime, the following was said about the items: “Joke of question” (Dara, focus group, 6th year, 18 years and 7 months), “In all fairness, the fi rst ten of those questions are fucking stupid” (Colin, 18 years and 9 months); this was followed by laughing (referring to the items in the RE and RABBM factor). Further, during an individual interview, Garry explained that it would discourage some boys from taking the exercise seriously but qualifi ed his statement when he said “[I’m] not saying that all men would.”

Interim Discussion

There was general support for the GRC theory among the Irish adolescent sample; however, issues were raised about a number of items presented in the GRCS-A. Many of the problematic items refl ecting RE and RABBM were criticized for the wording 42 C.Ó. Beaglaoich et al. and phrasing used, suggesting that cultural differences exist in the language that Irish adolescents use in comparison to American students. [These issues were not raised by Watts and Borders (2005 )]. Emotionally “laden” words such as “love,” “affection,” and “anxious” were deemed inappropriate and “too strong” for Irish adolescent males, suggesting that different standards or more restricted standards of expression may exist among adolescent boys in Ireland. Across most interviews, items 1, 2, and 7 were highlighted as being most inappropriate. Boys deemed these items, among others, as being more suitable for girls and homosexual boys, evidencing the associations of certain phrases, words, and expressions with homonega- tivity and femininity. A minority of the participants supported the sentiments of the items and understood what the GRCS-A items were trying to imply, but most were very critical of the presentation and structure of the items. Other items on the GRCS-A were criticized for lacking clarity and not accounting for situational contexts in which certain behaviors were perfectly acceptable (i.e., hugging another boy after someone scored a goal). Items particular to the NSA and CBWFR factors were criticized for not taking into account the hegemonic ideals of adolescent males; for example, items seemed to overemphasize achievement in school rather than other extracurricular activities and hobbies. The emphasis on sports, was not acknowledged or included in any of the amended items of the GRCS-A. The incorporation of these aspects of adolescent experience would refl ect the complexity and individual differences among adolescent males, aspects that were overlooked in the development of the GRCS-A. Participants’ approval of the items on the CBWFR factor depended on adolescents in exam years (i.e., 3rd year and 6th year students). This observation supported Watts and Border’s (2005 ) fi ndings that these items were relevant to older adolescents who were preparing for end of school exams. Participants indicated that if they were presented with the items on the GRCS-A, they would not take the exercise seriously. In its present form, boys suggested that the scale would cause others to “take the piss” or to not participate in the research questionnaire. One participant explained that certain boys, but not all, may be enticed to spoil their research participation due to the presence of aforementioned problematic items. This assertion suggests, fi rstly, that suboptimal items could prompt a skeptical individual to spoil the questionnaire. Secondly, it suggests that a very important cohort of young males may be excluded from this type of research. It is possible that these individuals are cognizant of masculine standards/norms, but will not respond “appropriately” to questions they regard as devoid of personal meaning. Some researchers have acknowledged that the incorporation of items relating to sexuality may “create an insurmountable obstacle to collecting data with young adolescents” (Levant 2011 , p. 770). Specifi cally, in the development of the adolescent version of the Male Role Norm Inventory (MRNI-A; Brown 2002 as cited in Levant 2011 ), the researchers decided not to include both the “Hatred of Homosexuals” and “Non- relational Attitudes towards Sexuality” subscales. Contrary to this assertion that “controversial” items should simply be removed, a more fruitful approach may involve asking adolescents to reframe items in language that is age appropriate. When the boys participating in this study were asked to improve items’ presentation, New Directions in Gender Role Confl ict Research 43 they came up with questions that were deemed more suitable and acceptable to other boys. For example, rather than “verbally expressing my love to another man is diffi cult for me,” Graham (focus group, aged 15–16 years) suggested that the alternative version “It’s diffi cult for me to tell my friends how much they mean to me” would be more appropriate. This item was less explicit than the original item and grounded in the language that boys use and understand. Further, many of the items were deemed appropriate and suitable for adolescent use. In particular, items were supported as seen by responses on Table 1 . Approved items were seen across all factors with the most supporting the RAM (three items) and RE factors (two items). Thus, there appears to be support for GRC theory; however, the diffi culties evident with participants’ interpretation of the items used to measure this theory underscores the need to include boys in the scale development stage and lends itself to developing items and factors previously disregarded as “insurmountable issues.” These results also support psychometric guidelines suggesting the use of qualitative interviews with target populations to inform item development, guidelines that have been incorporated by those developing contemporary masculine ideology scales (e.g., Chu et al. 2005 ; Oransky and Fisher 2009 ). Further, Levant (2011 ) suggests that developing instruments should incorporate a “mixed methods approach, starting with focus groups and individual interviews to generate items” (p. 770).

Discussion

In this chapter, a number of criticisms of the GRCS were outlined: (a) the lack of information relating to the development of scale items; (b) the fact that not all items measure confl ict; (c) the observation that elements of devaluation, restriction, and violation are missing from scale items; (d) the limited attention that GRC toward others is given (i.e., it is measured by a single item); (e) the absence of face or content validity from the vantage of adolescent boys; (f) mismatches between items and the response format; and (g) conceptual issues relating to what each factor is measuring (e.g., SPC as a measure of masculine ideology). These issues relate to all the versions of GRCS – the GRCS-SF, the GRCS-A, and the K-GRCS-A. With respect to the adolescent version of the measure, data from our focus groups and personal interviews with Irish adolescents illustrate that a number of items were identifi ed as problematic (i.e., items 1, 2, 4, 6, 7, 12, 13, 18, 21, 24 and 29). Further, myriad issues relating to administering questions to Irish adolescents surfaced. For example, the phrasing and wording of items were criticized and were deemed as being inappropriate for boys and deemed more suited for homosexual males and girls. Participants explained that presenting the items without alteration would pre- clude boys from taking the questionnaire seriously or refusing to complete the measure. These assertions have serious consequences for the utility of GRCS-A, at the very least among Irish males, and for future research conducted with this scale. The importance of including the target population (i.e., adolescents) was demonstrated with adolescents from the Republic of Ireland and the advantages of involving adolescent boys in the item development process were underscored 44 C.Ó. Beaglaoich et al. by (a) the identifi cation of a number of problematic items and (b) suggestions for improving items to incorporate cultural nuances in masculinity standards and ideals specifi c to Irish adolescents. The defi nition of GRC “has evolved” (O’Neil 2008a , p. 362) since the concept was originally theorized in the early 1980s (O’Neil 1981a , b , 1982). During this period, progress has been made in terms of gender equality and the dissemination of gender research fi ndings has made an impact on the public consciousness. For example, RABBM scores have signifi cantly declined in the past 25 years (McGinness 2011 ), suggesting that comfort with same-sex relationships may have increased during this period. Also, some of the discrepancies between the GRCS and the GRC theory discussed herein may allude to this reality. The standards of measurement have progressed in the past 26 years with the emergence of SEM cutoff points, standards that were not available during the periods when the GRCS was developed (Norwalk et al. 2011 ). Examinations of the psychometric properties by means of CFAs have consistently fallen short of cutoff points. In spite of these social and psychometric developments, the same measure of GRC exists and has been unchanged since it was designed in 1986. Given the success of the GRCS since its inception and the acknowledgement that “measures of the gender-related confl icts or stresses of manhood are likely to predict male’s behavior more directly than measures of masculinity ideology” (Thompson et al. 1992 , p. 573), it is surprising that other measures of confl ict have not been developed. The popularity and utility of the GRCS and the contribution it has made to the fi eld of men and masculinities may have awarded it more latitude with respect to its performance on indices of psychometric quality. It is also possible that researchers may fi nd the breadth of GRC theory, the theoretical ambiguity (i.e., the distinctions between the GRSP and GRC theory or the situational contexts versus what the GRCS is measuring), and the defi - nitional diffi culties of the GRC theory challenging to negotiate. The results of this examination of the GRCS-A scale items support the theoretical tenets of the GRC theory and refl ect the realities of the masculine ideology approach. Masculinity ideology refers “to beliefs about the importance of men adhering to culturally defi ned standards for male behavior” (Pleck 1995 , p. 19), incorporating a social constructionist (psychosociological) framework, implying that within each culture, there are varied expectations of males. GRC is a “cofactor of masculinity ideology” (O’Neil 2008a , p. 364) and is included in all the situational defi nitions of GRC. Consequently, GRC must be manifested differently within different cultures. O’Neil (2011 ) acknowledged these premises stating that using “American gender role concepts exclusively without grasping the cultural history of another country oversimplifi es and clouds the real differences between two cultures” (p. 384) and explaining that theories emanating from any country may “have limited ability to explain attitudes and psychological processes in any other country” (p. 368). The diffi culties with adopting masculine ideologies and GRCSs from other cultures are that potential factors relevant to other cultures are left unexplored. Explicitly, one concern about “role” theories is that when researchers identify and produce specifi c themes [for a measure], “we can only learn about masculinity as it relates to that theme” (Kahn 2009 , p. 64) which means that experiences New Directions in Gender Role Confl ict Research 45 of masculinity that are related to a variety of other experiences are omitted. Therefore, the importance of developing measures of GRC that are culturally nuanced and that are language appropriate to that country cannot be understated. Many researchers have called for more international research on the GRC theory (Heppner and Heppner 2008 ; O’Neil 2011 ), and based on the fi ndings of this research and our critique of the GRCS, we recommend that new measures of the GRC be developed. Norwalk et al. (2011 ) recommended that “revising and updating the GRCS would not only improve its psychometric properties but also increase its viability as a current and future measure of gender role confl ict in men” (p. 141). Attempts have been made to improve the psychometric properties of the GRCS by developing a short- form version of the measure. However, many of the criticisms relating to the foundation of the measure and the construct validity of the items still apply to the GRCS-SF. Given the breadth of GRC theory, new measures should be developed that quan- tify and focus on individual aspects of GRC. We propose that two measures should be developed that capture (1) GRC within the person and experienced from others and (2) GRC expressed toward others. The reasons for grouping these situational contexts in this way are as follows: (a) inspection of items on the GRCS seem to refl ect GRC within the person and experienced from others (i.e., the fear of experiencing GRC from others); (b) theoretically, aligning with a social constructionist framework and social learning theory, GRC is internalized from social surroundings and this makes it diffi cult to distinguish between GRC within the person and GRC experienced from others; (c) GRC theory assumes that those who experience GRC within the self and from others are going to express GRC toward others; however, these aspects need to disentangled and empirically tested; and (d) GRC within the person and GRC from others appear to be conceptually similar. We recommend new measures of GRC take into account (1) the age of the participant, (2) GRC within the person/from others versus GRC toward others, (3) the situational contexts of GRC, and (4) confl icts potentially emanating from both traditional and nontraditional masculine ideologies. This approach would provide a more nuanced and in-depth understanding of gender role confl ict as it pertains to men.

Notes

1. “The masculine mystique is seen as a front that men put up by giving up their femininity (expression and emotion) in order to maintain their position or power” (Kahn 2009 , p. 221). 2. We acknowledge that causal language has been used in the presence of many studies that are correlational in nature. However, it is possible that those evidencing compromised psychological well-being are more likely to regard themselves as “defective men.” 3. The endorsement of traditional masculinities can have negative consequences for either the male himself or others because many of these characteristics are inherently negative. 4. These contexts are (a) deviating from or violating gender role norms of masculinity ideology; (b) trying to meet or failing to meet gender role norms of masculinity ideology; (c) experiencing discrepancies between real and ideal self-concepts; (d) devaluing and/or restricting oneself for failing to meet masculinity ideology norms; (e) experiencing personal devaluations and/or 46 C.Ó. Beaglaoich et al.

restrictions from others for deviating from masculinity ideology norms; and (f) personally devaluing, restricting, or violating others because of their deviation from or conformity to masculinity ideology norms (O’Neil 2008a ). 5. However, the endorsement of masculine ideology items do not differentiate between males that are affected by the presence of an expectation/masculine norm and males that merely acknowledge the existence of, but are not affected by, this expectation/masculine norm. 6. A total sample of 41 participants were given the GRCS-A to evaluate each item by indicating an “x” next to the items they deemed inappropriate/unsuitable and a “tick” next to items they deemed appropriate/suitable. Stage 2 of the interview process, in some instances, only lasted a number of minutes, whereas other interviews were longer. As some boys omitted certain items, an estimate of the approval of items is based on those who indicated either a “tick” or an “x” to a speciﬁ c question. Hence, there is a difference in the total number of participants for each item. 7. Eight out of 21 participants across both focus groups and individual interviews disapproved of item 23, 14 out of 19 participants across both focus groups and individual interviews disapproved of item 24, and 7 out of 17 participants across both focus groups and individual interviews disapproved of item 26.

Appendix 1

Expectations of Adolescent Males

1 . I ’m interested in the expectations that young people experience and I was hoping you could say something about this. 2. What are the sources of these expectations? 3. Are there differences in these expectations with age? 4. How do you deal with these expectations?

Stress in Adolescents

5 . I ’m interested in the kinds of stress that young people experience and I was hoping you could say something about this. 6. What are the sources of these stresses? 7. Are there differences in stresses with age? 8. How do you deal with these stresses?

Social Norms

9. Generally speaking, are there differences in the ways fellas act as opposed to how girls act? 10. Are there differences in the way fellas act in front of parents/teachers and the way they would generally act without parents/teacher being around? New Directions in Gender Role Conﬂ ict Research 47

11. Are there differences in the way fellas act when they’re older or younger? 12. Are there certain ways a fella should act? 13. Are there inappropriate ways for a fella to act? If so, (a) Why? (b) What would happen if someone acted like this (deviating or violating norms)? (c) What is likely to be said to someone/about someone if they did? (d) Would people think less of someone as a result? If so, in what way? 14. Are there differences between how fellas act around their male friends and how they might act around their female friends? If so, (a) Why? (b) What are these differences?

Appendix 2

The Gender Role Conﬂ ict Scale for Adolescents (GRCS-A)

Restricted Affection Between Men (RAM)

1. Verbally expressing my love to another man is hard for me. 2. Affection with other men makes me tense. 3. Expressing my emotions to other men is risky. 4. Hugging other men is difﬁ cult for me. 5. I am sometimes hesitant to show my affection to men because of how others might judge me. 6. Being very personal with other men makes me feel anxious. 7. Men who are too friendly to me make me wonder about their sexual preference (men or women).

Restricted Emotionality (RE)

8. I have difﬁ culty telling others I care about them. 9. Strong emotions are difﬁ cult for me to understand. 10. Expressing feelings makes me feel open to attack by other people. 11. It’s hard for me to talk about my feelings with others. 12. It’s hard for me to express my emotional needs to others. 48 C.Ó. Beaglaoich et al.

13. When I am personally involved with others, I do not express my strong feelings. 14. I often have trouble ﬁ nding words that describe how I am feeling. 15. I do not like to show my emotions to other people. 16. Telling others about my strong feelings is difﬁ cult to me.

Conﬂ ict Between Work, School, and Family (CWSF)

17. I feel torn between my hectic work or school schedule and caring for my health. 18. My career, job, or school affects the quality of my leisure or family life. 19. I judge other people’s value by their level of achievement and success. 20. Finding time to relax is difﬁ cult for me. 21. My need to work or study keeps me from my family or leisure more than I would like. 22. My work or school often disrupts other parts of my life (home, health, leisure). 23. Overwork and stress caused by the need to achieve on the job or in school affects or/hurts my life.

Need for Success and Achievement (NSA)

24. Getting to the top of my class is important to me. 25. Making money is part of my idea of being a successful man. 26. Sometimes I deﬁ ne my personal value by my success at school. 27. I worry about failing and how it affects my doing well as a man. 28. Doing well all the time is important to me. 29. I strive to be more successful than others.

References

Bandalos, D. L. (2002). The effects of item parceling on goodness-of-fi t and parameter estimate bias in structural equation modeling. Structural Equation Modeling: A Multidisciplinary Journal, 9 , 78–102. Berger, J. M., Levant, R. F., McMillan, K. K., Kelleher, W., & Sellers, A. (2005). Impact of gender role confl ict, traditional masculinity ideology, alexithymia, and age on men’s attitudes toward psychological help seeking. Psychology of Men and Masculinity, 6 , 73–78. Betz, N. E., & Fitzgerald, L. F. (1993). Individuality and diversity: Theory and research in counseling psychology. Annual Review of Psychology, 4 (1), 343–381. Blazina, C., Pisecco, S., & O’Neil, J. M. (2005). An adaption of the gender role confl ict scale for adolescents: Psychometric issues and correlates with psychological distress. Psychology of Men & Masculinity, 6 (1), 39–45. Blazina, C., Cordova, M. A., Pisecco, S., & Settle, A. G. (2007). Gender role confl ict scale for adolescents: Correlates with masculinity ideology. Thymos Journal of Boyhood Studies, 1 (2), 191–204. New Directions in Gender Role Confl ict Research 49

Brannon, R., & Juni, S. (1984). A scale for measuring attitudes toward masculinity. Psychological Documents, 14 (6), 12–20. Braun, V., & Clarke, V. (2006). Using thematic analysis in psychology. Qualitative Research in Psychology, 3 , 77–101. Campbell, J. L., & Snow, B. M. (1992). Gender role confl ict and family environment as predictors of men’s marital satisfaction. Journal of Family Psychology, 6 (1), 84–87. Choi, H., Kim, J., Hwang, M., & Heppner, M. (2010). Self-esteem as a mediator between instru- mentality, gender role confl ict and depression in male Korean high school students. Sex Roles, 63 (5–6), 361–372. Chu, J. Y., Porche, M. V., & Tolman, D. L. (2005). The adolescent masculinity ideology in relationships scale: Development and validation of a new measure for boys. Men and Masculinities, 8 (1), 93–115. Connell, R. W. (2005). Growing up masculine: Rethinking the signifi cance of adolescence in the making of masculinities. Irish Journal of Sociology, 14 (2), 11–28. Connell, R. W., & Messerschmidt, J. W. (2005). Hegemonic masculinity: Rethinking the concept. Gender and Society, 19 (6), 829–859. Conners, C. K., & Wells, K. C. (1997). ConnersÐWells’ Adolescent Self-Report Scales (CASS) . Toronto: Multi-Health Systems. Cournoyer, R. J., & Mahalik, J. R. (1995). Cross-sectional study of gender role confl ict examining college-aged and middle-aged men. Journal of Counseling Psychology, 42 (1), 11–19. Dolnicar, S., & Rossiter, J. R. (2009). Not offering don’t know options in brand image surveys contaminates data. In Australia and New Zealand Marketing Academy (ANZMAC) Conference (pp. 1–7). Melbourne: Australian & New Zealand Marketing Academy. Eisler, R. M., & Skidmore, J. R. (1987). Masculine gender role stress: Scale development and component factors in the appraisal of stressful situations. Behavior Modifi cation, 1 , 123–136. Fischer, A. R., & Good, G. E. (1997). Men and psychotherapy: An investigation of alexithymia, intimacy, and masculine gender roles. Psychotherapy, 34 , 160–170. Galligan, S. B., Barnett, R. V., Brennan, M. A., & Israel, G. D. (2010). The effects of gender role confl ict on adolescent and emerging adult male resiliency. The Journal of Men’s Studies, 18 (1), 3–21. Good, G. E., Borst, T. S., & Wallace, D. L. (1994). Masculinity research: A review and critique. Applied and Preventive Psychology, 3 (1), 3–14. Good, G. E., Robertson, J. M., O’Neil, J. M., Fitzgerald, L. F., Stevens, M., DeBord, K., et al. (1995). Male gender role confl ict: Psychometric issues and relations to psychological distress. Journal of Counseling Psychology, 42 , 3–10. Hardesty, D. M., & Bearden, W. O. (2004). The use of expert judges in scale development: Implications for improving face validity of measures of unobservable constructs. Journal of Business Research, 57 , 98–107. Hearn, J., Pringle, K., Müller, U., Oleksy, E., Lattu, E., Chernova, J., & Kolga, V. (2002). Critical studies on men in ten European countries: (1) The state of academic research. Men and Masculinities, 4 , 380–408. Heppner, P. P., & Heppner, M. J. (2008). The gender role confl ict literature: Fruits of sustained commitment. The Counseling Psychologist, 35 , 455–461. Kahn, J. S. (2009). An introduction to masculinities . Malden: Wiley-Blackwell. Kim, J., Choi, H., Kim, H., & Park, K. (2009). Validation of the Korean version of the gender role confl ict scale. Asia Pacifi c Education Review, 10 (2), 215–223. Levant, R. F. (2011). Award for distinguished professional contributions to applied research. American Psychologist, 66 (8), 763–776. Levant, R. F., Hirsch, L., Celentano, E., Cozza, T., Hill, S., MacRachorn, M., et al. (1992). The male role: An investigation of contemporary norms. Journal of Mental Health Counseling, 14 , 325–337. Levant, R. F., Smalley, K. B., Aupont, M., House, A. T., Richmond, K., & Noronha, D. (2007). Initial validation of the Male Role Norms Inventory-Revised (MRNI-R). Journal of Men’s Studies, 15 (1), 83–100. 50 C.Ó. Beaglaoich et al.

Liu, W. M., Rochlen, A., & Mohr, J. J. (2005). Real and ideal gender-role confl ict: Exploring psychological distress among men. Psychology of Men & Masculinity, 6 , 137–148. Mahalik, J. R., Locke, B. D., Ludlow, L. H., Diemer, M. A., Scott, L., Gottfried, M., & Freitas, G. (2003). Development of the Conformity to Masculine Norms Inventory. Psychology of Men & Masculinity, 4 (1), 3–25. McGinness, C. (2011). Twenty-fi ve years of change in men’s gender role strain as measured by the gender role confl ict scale . Doctoral dissertation, University of Kansas. Messner, M. A. (1992). Power at play: Sports and the problem of masculinity. Boston: Beacon Press. Moradi, B., Tokar, D. M., Schaub, M., Jome, L. M., & Serna, G. S. (2000). Revisiting the Structural Validity of the Gender Role Confl ict Scale. Psychology of Men and Masculinity, 1 (1), 62–69. Norwalk, K. E., Vandiver, B. J., White, A. M., & Englar-Carlson, M. (2011). Factor Structure of the Gender Role Confl ict Scale in African American and European American Men. Psychology of Men and Masculinity, 12 (2), 128–143. O ’Neil, J. M. (1981a). Male sex role confl icts, sexism, and masculinity: Psychological implications for men, women, and the counseling psychologist. The Counseling Psychologist, 9 (2), 61–80. O ’Neil, J. M. (1981b). Patterns of gender role confl ict and strain: Sexism and fear of femininity in men’s lives. Personnel and Guidance Journal, 60 , 203–210. O ’Neil, J. M. (1982). Gender role confl ict and strain in men’s lives: Implications for psychiatrists, psychologists, and other human service providers. In K. Solomon & N. B. Levy (Eds.), Men in transition: Changing male roles, theory, and therapy (pp. 5–44). New York: Plenum. O ’Neil, J. M. (1990). Assessing men’s gender role confl ict. In D. Moore & F. Leafgren (Eds.), Men in confl ict: Problem solving strategies and interventions (pp. 23–38). Alexandria: American Association for Counseling and Development. O ’Neil, J. M. (2008a). Summarizing 25 years of research on men’s gender role confl ict using the gender role confl ict scale: New research paradigms and clinical implications. The Counseling Psychologist, 36 (3), 358–445. O ’Neil, J. M. (2008b). Complexity, contextualism, and multiculturalism: Responses to the critiques and future directions for the gender role confl ict research program. The Counseling Psychologist, 36 (3), 469–476. O’Neil, J.M. (2011) Exploring the psychology of Russian men with Russian psychologists during my Fulbright scholarship in the former soviet union. In C. Blazina & D. Shen-Miller (Eds.), An international psychology of men: Theoretical advances, case studies, and clinical innovations (pp. 361–383). New York: Routledge. O ’Neil, J. M., Helm, B., Gable, R., David, L., & Wrightsman, L. (1986). Gender Role Confl ict Scale (GRCS): College men’s fears of femininity. Sex Roles, 14 , 335–350. O ’Neil, J. M., Good, G. E., & Holmes, S. (1995). Fifteen years of theory and research on men’s gender role confl ict: New paradigms for empirical research. In R. Levant & W. Pollack (Eds.), The new psychology of men (pp. 164–206). New York: Basic Books. Oransky, M., & Fisher, C. (2009). The development and validation of the meanings of adolescent masculinity scale. Psychology of Men & Masculinity, 10 (1), 57–72. Pleck, J. H. (1995). The gender role strain paradigm: An update. In R. F. Levant & W. S. Pollack (Eds.), A new psychology of men (pp. 11–32). New York: Basic Books. Rogers, J. R., Abbey-Hines, J., & Rando, R. A. (1997). Confi rmatory factor analysis of the gender role confl ict scale: A cross validation of Good et al. 1995. Measurement and Evaluation in Counseling and Development, 30 , 137–145. Ryan, C., & Gartland, R. (1999). The use of a specifi c non-response option on likert-type scales. Tourism Management, 20 (1), 107–113. Smith, G. T., McCarthy, D. M., & Anderson, K. G. (2000). On sins of short-form development. Psychological Assessment, 12 (1), 102–111. Steinfeldt, J. A., Wong, Y. J., Hagan, A. R., & Hoag, J. M. (2011). A contextual examination of gender role confl ict among college football players. Psychology of Men & Masculinity, 12 (4), 311–323. New Directions in Gender Role Confl ict Research 51

Thompson, E. H., & Pleck, J. H. (1986). The structure of the male norms. American Behavioral Scientist, 29 , 531–543. Thompson, E. H., Pleck, J. H., & Ferrera, D. L. (1992). Men and masculinity: Scales for masculinity ideology and masculinity-related constructs. Sex Roles, 27 , 573–607. Walker, D. F., Tokar, D. M., & Fischer, A. R. (2000). What are eight popular masculinity-related instruments measuring? Underlying dimensions and their relations to sociosexuality. Psychology of Men & Masculinity, 1 (2), 98–108. Watts, R. H., & Borders, L. D. (2005). Boys’ perceptions of the male role: Understanding gender role confl ict in adolescent males. Journal of Men’s Studies, 13 , 267–280. Wester, S. R. (2008). Thinking complexly about men, gender role confl ict, and counseling psychology. The Counseling Psychologist, 36 (3), 462–468. Wester, S. R., Pionke, D. R., & Vogel, D. L. (2005). Male gender role confl ict, gay men, and same- sex romantic relationships. Psychology of Men & Masculinity, 6 , 195–208. Wester, S. R., Vogel, D. L., Wei, M., & McLain, R. (2006b). African American men, gender role confl ict, and psychological distress: The role of racial identity. Journal of Counseling and Development, 84 , 419–429. Wester, S. R., Kuo, B., & Vogel, D. L. (2006a). Multicultural coping: Chinese-Canadian adolescents, male gender role confl ict, and psychological distress. Psychology of Men & Masculinity, 7 , 87–104. Wester, S. R., Christianson, H. F., Vogel, D. L., & Wei, M. (2007). Male gender role confl ict and psychological distress: The role of social support. Psychology of Men & Masculinity, 8 , 215–224. Wester, S. R., Vogel, D. L., O’Neil, J. M., & Danforth, L. (2012). Development and evaluation of the Gender Role Confl ict Scale Short Form (GRCS-SF). Psychology of Men and Masculinity, 13 (2), 199–210. Whorley, M. R., & Addis, M. E. (2006). Ten years of psychological research on men and masculinity in the United States: Dominant methodological trends. Sex Roles, 55 , 649–658. Zamarripa, M. X., Wampold, B. E., & Gregory, E. (2003). Male gender role confl ict, depression, and anxiety: Clarifi cation and generalizability to women. Journal of Counseling Psychology, 50, 333–338. Will the Real Joseph Gelfer Please Stand Up: Multiple Masculinities and the Self

Joseph Gelfer

Multiple Masculinities

Broadly speaking, the study of men and masculinities has developed from thinking in terms of the singular to the multiple and from the biologically determined to the socially constructed. We can take as a point of departure sex role theory which discussed what roles are appropriate for a given sex: in the current context, this largely revolved around the question, ‘what makes men less masculine than they should be, and what can be done about it?’ ( Pleck 1987 , p. 22). Such biological understanding of sex gave way to viewing gender as a social construction (Hare-Mustin and Marecek 1990 ; Lorber 1994 ; Lorber and Farrell 1991 ; West and Zimmerman 1987 ): in the current context, this resulted in ‘the study of masculinities and male experiences as speciﬁ c and varying social-historical-cultural formations’ (Brod 1987 , p. 2). This shift towards multiple masculinities saw a proliferation of studies that explored sexuality, class, race, physical ability, geographic location and so forth. Further still, multiple masculinities enabled us to see not just how power dynamics function between men and women—as demonstrated in the feminist critiques of patriarchy (Walby 1990 )—but also between men in the form of hegemonic masculinity (Carrigan et al. 1987 ; Connell and Messerschmidt 2005 ). Multiple masculinities were extended again by queer theory, which not only illuminated further diverse masculinities performed by men but also women (Butler 1999 ; Halberstam 1998 ). Whether a researcher of men and masculinities leans more towards exploring sex or gender, differing theoretical and hermeneutical models have given rise to various schools of thought or subdisciplines. For example, Jeff Hearn (1997 ) introduced the concept of Critical Studies on Men which has an explicitly feminist/profeminist orientation. In contrast, Men’s Studies is perceived by some to have a more conservative orientation, characterised by ‘ambiguous and sometimes even anti-feminist

J. Gelfer (*) Monash University, MCD University of Divinity , Melbourne , VIC , Australia e-mail: [email protected]

J. Gelfer (ed.), Masculinities in a Global Era, International and Cultural Psychology 4, 53 DOI 10.1007/978-1-4614-6931-5_3, © Springer Science+Business Media New York 2014 54 J. Gelfer activities … which can become defi ned in a much less critical way as ‘by men, on men, for men” (Hearn and Pringle 2006 , p. 5). More recently, the subdiscipline of Male Studies has gained some momentum, which claims gender studies may be of interest to ‘activists and reformers… But it cannot be a discipline’ (Groth 2010 , p. 10). Somewhat backwards in its orientation, Male Studies considers the biological male to be the only object of enquiry when researching men (it remains to be seen whether this results in viewing singular or multiple biological males). Male Studies has been warmly embraced by the popular discourse of ‘men’s rights’ which can loosely (although not exclusively) be seen as a backlash against feminism. While not explicitly framed by ‘men’, ‘masculinities’ or ‘male’, it should also be noted that a good deal of research into these domains is undertaken in the disciplines of Feminist/ Women’s Studies and Gay/Queer Studies. Firstly, this chapter builds upon the above discussion by extending the concept of multiple masculinities; this is done not by continuing to identify the experiences of diverse constituencies whose masculine performances have yet to be seen (although this is important) but by identifying multiple masculinities/identities within the individual self . Multiple identities are often considered to be of a dissociative nature resulting from trauma and can justifi ably be pathologised (Hacking 1995 ; Kluft and Fine 1993 ; Putnam 1989 ). Such pathologies are largely interpreted within a clinical context; however, they can also be seen as functioning as non-clinical responses to the cultural environment in which we live: the ‘shattered self’ of the postmodern world (Glass 1993 ). Indeed, if we move away from the value-laden term ‘pathol- ogy’, multiple identities can be seen as meaning-making responses to ‘liquid modernity’ (Bauman 2000 ) where our sense of self is constantly shifting in response to the ever-changing parameters and demands of the contemporary liquid world we inhabit. But whether multiple identities are interpreted as disorders or responses, they tend to be viewed negatively: people—whether as individuals or part of a collective—prefer singular, stable identities that are commonly perceived to mitigate existential anxiety and offer a greater feeling of ontological security (Giddens 1991 , pp. 35–69). We thus dwell in a paradox of a contemporary way of being that at once manifests yet resists multiple identities (Scott 1999 , pp. 446–447). But not all notions of multiple identities are negative, such as when role-specifi c requirements occur and an individual shifts between being, for example, a parent, friend or worker (Roberts and Donahue 1994 ) who continually seeks priorities and balances between these different identities (Marks and MacDermid 1996 ). A further example might be when an individual simultaneously maintains different personal and cultural identities (Schwartz et al. 2008 ). The ‘multiple self-aspects framework’ goes so far as to suggest multiple identities are an inherent part of the ostensibly unitary self and that we are all ‘composed of multiple, contextually activated selves’ (McConnell 2011, p. 4). In the multiple self-aspects framework, multiple selves comprise more than just roles but also various ‘self-aspects’: Allen McConnell offers the hypothetical ‘Rachel’ whose aspects include ‘roles (e.g., daughter, student), social identities (e.g., being Jewish, sorority sister), and social relationships (e.g., Mike’s girlfriend)’; other aspects could include ‘goals (e.g., who I want to be), affective states (e.g., being moody), and behavioral situations (e.g., meeting new people)’ (2011 , p. 5). Will the Real Joseph Gelfer Please Stand Up… 55

Further still Hubert Hermans and Harry Kempen (1993 ) refer to the ‘dialogical self’ in which the self comprises various elements that are in continual dialogue with each other that permit ‘one and the same individual to live in a multiplicity of worlds with each having its own author telling a story relatively independent of the authors of the other worlds’ (p. 46). By acknowledging multiple masculinities within the self (or multiple masculine selves), we can achieve greater subtlety and nuance in our representations of masculinity rather than retreating into caricatures such as ‘gay man’, ‘profeminist’ or ‘men’s rights advocate’. Secondly, this chapter builds upon the above discussion by extending the relationship between the different subdisciplines that study masculinities. For example, when we are asked to describe our research, it is convenient to say it is located in Critical Studies of Men or Men’s Studies, as this serves as shorthand for the worldview that informs our research. However, having to ‘choose a side’ between these subdisciplines may not be wholly representative of our position. Thirdly, this chapter extends the observations of Linn Egeberg Holmgren and Jeff Hearn (2009 ) about the various positionings of profeminist men. Within a Swedish context, Egeberg Holmgren and Hearn show how profeminist men under- take a number of manoeuvres to construct and embody a profeminist political position. This process of positioning ranges from passing as feminist—‘being recognised and accepted into the social context of feminism as ‘(pro)feminists” (p. 408)—through to what men actually do as profeminists, both passing and doing range from confessional accounts of struggles to live up to profeminism through to genuine counter-hegemonic practice. The following auto-ethnography spans and blurs various positions within a sense of self as well as within the study of men and masculinities. This chapter is not about seeking ‘balance’ between aspects of the gendered self, which has a habit of consolidating the normative understanding of that which we seek to complement (Butler 2004 , p. 42; Gelfer 2009 , pp. 166–167); nor is it about ﬁ nding a ‘middle ground’ between subdisciplines, which can have the consequence of repeating old problems without new solutions. 1 Via an auto-ethnographic analysis of the themes of sexuality and style, this chapter is about viewing the masculine self and the study of masculinities in a more rhizomatic fashion, noting there are multiple positions with multiple connections to one another that comprise the greater whole.

Sexuality

If you browse my author profi le on Amazon.com, you will fi nd in the Customer Discussions section a single and rather lonely thread started by Commenter WilfredTR 2 entitled, ‘Joe, are you gay?’ 3 This assumption appears to be common: the statistics plug-in on my blog alerts me to the fact that various people fi nd it by Googling terms such as ‘Joseph Gelfer is gay’. Some years ago, my meagre biography on Wikipedia was revised by a Wiki Vandal who stated that, ‘In 2002, 56 J. Gelfer

Joseph came out as a practicing homosexual. He has spoken out on behalf of Gay Rights, and has pledged his future to fi ghting for the cause’. 4 As it happens, I do not identify as gay (nor am I in the closet), but these assumptions (allegations, even) offer an interesting insight into how I position myself in my work, and how people position me. Here is why this happens. In my book Numen, Old Men: Contemporary Masculine Spiritualities and the Problem of Patriarchy (Gelfer 2009 ) I write about how gay spirituality is the only ‘masculine spirituality’ that does not appeal to oppressive and dominating masculine archetypes and of the value of gay spirituality and queer theory for liberating ostensibly ‘straight’ men (pp. 126–149). I do a similar thing elsewhere where I put my experiences of fatherhood in dialogue with queer theory to produce a thinking space for straight men (Gelfer 2010a ). As a genuine queer theorist, I do not believe in ‘gay’ or ‘straight’ as categories rather, ‘a thousand tiny sexes’ (Deleuze and Guattari 1987 , p. 213). However, anything that speaks of the value of gayness or queerness (which a remarkable amount of people still believe mean the same thing) is automatically positioned as some kind of gay rights crusade, with me being turned into a rainbow fl ag-waving advocate. However, I argue that by assigning me a singular gay masculine identity, my critics can feel more comfortable about my message. Consider the three options critics no doubt believe they have at their disposal: Gelfer is openly gay, Gelfer might be gay and Gelfer is straight. My feeling is that ‘Gelfer is openly gay’ is the most preferable option to critics as it allows them to dismiss my position as gay propaganda. These folks may have no problem with gay people (some of their best friends may be gay) but will not take them very seriously as critics of masculinity, as they are considered to perform only a faux-masculinity in the fi rst place. ‘Gelfer is straight’ is a more challenging proposition as it suggests that I speak from a position of ‘full’ masculinity yet still feel inclined to critique it. Critics attempt to dismiss it by declaring I am wallowing in self-hate and misandry (some examples are provided in the section below), even if this is clearly not the case in light of my many pro-male comments. However, ‘Gelfer might be gay’ is an altogether more troubling possibility. If I were openly gay, they could dismiss me. If I were clearly straight, they at least would know what they are dealing with. But if they are not sure? That is where the panic sets in: things may not be as they seem! 5 The point here is not so much that these critics are wrong, rather that they feel compelled to assign a clear and singular identity 6 when an ambiguous and multiple identity is more representative of the truth. But what of the masculine self I assign myself? As stated, as a genuine queer theorist, I do not believe in the categories of ‘gay’ or ‘straight’. However, this is a defi nitional exercise that may or may not tally with the ‘real-world’ business of sexual desire, on the one hand, and the politics of sexuality, on the other. One would think having to be pigeonholed as gay or straight was a moment in history given it is now over 60 years since Alfred Kinsey showed that the majority of people exist on a spectrum that is neither exclusively one nor the other (Kinsey et al. 1948 ). However, to this day, what might loosely be implied from this as common ‘bisexuality’ (or at least ‘bi-curious at some point in one’s life’) remains a category that Will the Real Joseph Gelfer Please Stand Up… 57 rarely fi nds a sympathetic audience, even among progressive queer communities (Angelides 2001 ; Yoshino 2000 ). I fi nd in myself a curious mix of heteronormative red-bloodedness (I cannot help continually noticing lovely women in the street), which comprises the signifi cant majority of my unitary self. There is also a small element of same-sex attraction which I fi nd hard to explain and rarely act upon apart from the occasional fl irt with someone who arouses what I can only describe as the ‘erotic of the familiar’, the nearest description I can fi nd being Harry Hay’s gay ‘subject-SUBJECT’ relational consciousness, which is set in contrast to heterosexual ‘subject-OBJECT’ relational consciousness (1996 , pp. 162–165). In short, I am a 1 or a 2 on the Kinsey Scale. 7 But importantly, I also reject the categories of ‘bisexual’ and ‘1 or 2 on the Kinsey Scale’ alongside ‘gay’ and ‘straight’: I only accept the category of ‘me’, which itself is a site of continual contestation. My multiple masculine identities become most apparent to me in the process of self-regulation. For example, I am highly conscious of the problems of sexually objectifying women but cannot help but be enchanted by women’s sexual being- ness in a way that resembles sexual objectifi cation. I politically align myself whole- heartedly with the profeminist community that critiques the way such objectifi cation routinely manifests in society, but I will not partake in anxious hand-wringing and claim that my sexuality is not stirred by this matter. However, nor am I inclined to ‘excuse’ any such enchantment as wholly biological, as do a number of manly apol- ogists such as Harvey Mansfi eld (2006 ). The truth is, I am simultaneously all these things. Certainly, I am socially conditioned in a problematic manner by a phallocentric economy which views women as sexual commodities and have a no-doubt oce- anic mass of unresolved psychoanalytic neuroses, but I am also conscious of these facts and have a sophisticated political framework at my disposal to analyse my relationships with both my own multiple masculine identities and society at large. 8 In the study of masculinities, texts that acknowledge, let alone navigate, such multiple masculine identities are hard to fi nd and tend, like the current analysis, to be of a confessional nature. The best example I have found comes from therapist Peter Rutter (1989 ) who charts inappropriate relationships between men and the women over whom they have power (students, patients and so forth): I was overcome by an intoxicating mixture of the timeless freedom, and the timeless danger, that men feel when a forbidden woman’s sexuality becomes available to them. The freedom stems from the illusion of such moments in which a man can convince himself that nothing but sexual merger with the female body and spirit seems real. He shuts himself off from past and future, contemplating neither the motivation nor the consequences of his acts. The feeling of danger balances the one of freedom, for within this danger is the intuition that the act he is so strongly fantasizing may be wrong, that it may bring catastrophe on both himself and the woman. In the moment of deciding whether to cross the line, I felt all at once extremely powerful—and very, very vulnerable (Rutter 1989 , p. 4). The above quote is not a story from some anonymous informant guilty of abusing power but from Rutter himself recalling a moment of weakness with a patient (a moment he ultimately resisted acting upon). The point here is Rutter’s radical transparency: the fact that he simultaneously held the position of a man tempted to exploit a situation, and of a man who knew it was the wrong thing to do, and then 58 J. Gelfer the position of a man who went on to write about it in a unique way which at once articulates the inherent wrongness of the act yet avoids shaming the men who feel its seductive pull. Between these multiple positions, we fi nd something resembling the truth of the matter rather than an ideological stance that the author may or may not embody. It is an account that is informed by multiple personal and political stances but not bound to one in particular. I would suggest the reason Rutter did not act upon this intoxicating impulse and did the right thing was because he was conscious of and in dialogue with his multiple masculine selves.

Style

The French have a saying, ‘Le style c'est l'homme même’: the style is the man himself. 9 In my writing (and, indeed, in person), I experiment quite a bit with style, in terms of how I present myself and my argumentation. As I write largely about masculinities—critiquing conservative men’s movement claims to ‘authentic masculinity’ and ‘men’s rights’—I am conscious of how I appear to my subjects of criticism, and keen to defl ect ahead of time certain predictable objections, such as those of Commenter ZeroSky who says, ‘Gelfer is too critical and is generally sending off a vibe of someone that is threatened by masculinity’ 10 (clearly these attempted defl ections are not entirely successful). My aim has often been to critique normative masculinity, but paradoxically in a normatively masculine style: somewhat aggressive and slightly absurd. I also have a habit of echoing the texts I am writing about. For example, in a book (Gelfer 2009) which critiqued the phallocentric nature of popular articulations of masculine spirituality, I felt compelled from time to time to insert (as it were) literal (and hopefully humorous) phalluses: I suggested reading a certain text in order to get ‘a full frontal presentation of the mytho-Jungian phallus’ (p. 29), another for ‘a mythopoetic handling of the phallus’ (p. 138), one writer ‘has a bigger bibliography than most men, and the undeniable stamina to keep on going’ (p. 118), and another assures his readers they can be ‘stirred in the knowledge that he can be simultaneously nurturing and hard, in every way’ (p. 29). This kind of thing was found to be problematic for Commenter Gary Stamper who noted, ‘Gelfer goes on to say that the 50,000 ft view equates with the “thrust of jet engines, again technology (masculine) dominating nature (feminine),” dampening the good parts of his message by often trekking into fantastic conclusions’. 11 There is a theoretical precedent for such a strategy right at the heart of gender studies in the work of Luce Irigaray, whose statement ‘sexual difference is probably the issue in our time which could be our “salvation” if we thought it through’ (1993 , p. 5) underpins much of my work, even if I am rarely sure exactly what Irigaray intends to communicate. But it is this lack of being sure that is the point of her strategy, described as ‘mimesis’. In its most simple sense, mimesis is about mimicry or imitation and, in the artistic realm, about a form of realism in representation. But Irigaray’s mimesis is far more complex: it is a form of resistance where Will the Real Joseph Gelfer Please Stand Up… 59 women imperfectly imitate stereotypes about women created for them by men and of eroding the stereotypes from within (Kozel 1996 , p. 116). It is at heart a trans- gressive act of ventriloquism, 12 speaking in the voice of the oppressor; this has also been described as ‘strategic essentialism’ (Stone 2004 ), where one can be charged with all sorts of essentialist representations of men and women, but for a reason other than the perpetuation of normativity. However, the problem (or challenge) of such a strategy is that one must be comfortable inhabiting the various levels of interpretation this brings: Gelfer who treks into fantastic conclusions, Gelfer who is being very clever with his mimetic strategy and Gelfer who is any number of things to other readers. This shifting of selves and identities—which may be manifest by no more than refusing to be pinned down to a commonly understood position—produces a curious amount of hostility in people who desire to assign a stable singular identity, even if it runs counter to the evidence in the text. For example, in one article (Gelfer 2010b ), I wrote from a feminist-informed and pro-male position about the desire to move beyond the tired discourse between feminists and men’s rights advocates in analysing the ‘problem’ of masculinity. Because these (at least) two masculine selves seemed not to fi t readers expectations —Gelfer who agrees with the feminist critique of patriarchy and Gelfer who agrees with the men’s rights advocates who suggest men are in trouble, albeit not agreeing with their reasoning as to why— people read me in a way which did fi t their expectations. Commenter Vanna charges me with being anti-male, sniping sarcastically ‘nasty creatures those evil males’. 13 Commenter Jon J dismisses me as simply being young: ‘Gosh! Stop the presses! A young person has discovered that life is not quite the way they were told it was going to be! Some wicked people have been acting in a self-interested way! Kleenex all round—then get over it’ 14; Commenter Stev does the same, but with an extra charge: ‘the real trap that a young intellectual like yourself needs to avoid is elit- ism’. 15 Commenter Skeptic suggests I am aligned with dark forces, bemoaning that he could not stop my ‘demonic force’ from ‘robbing’ him. 16 Commenter Formersnag aligns me and my article with all the evils under the sun: radical, extreme, loony, left, fauxmanistas have been saying good things about it. Which should alert any reasonable person that it may be going in the wrong direction or is just another exercise in rebadging of communist social engineering or renaming the rhetoric or trying to paper over the treasonous, damage that fe’man’nazi, communists have infl icted on modern western democracy. 17 Mostly these multiple voices and selves go unnoticed, but occasionally they are identifi ed. On one occasion, I had written about a form of commodifi ed spirituality (Gelfer 2010c) and outlined this within the community I was critiquing (the kind of online community where being ‘critical’ is interpreted as projecting one’s own inner neo-Jungian ‘shadow’ rather than the more accurate interpretation of exercis- ing critical thinking). It seems this community was used only to a discourse of corporate new ageism (Carrette and King 2005 ) or what they perceived to be appropriately ‘balanced’ academic writing. In response, Commenter Kerry Dugan left the following interpretation of my argument on my blog: 60 J. Gelfer

Seeing your site I can now appreciate the apparent directions of your intentions and strategy, but at the level of tactics, the bait-and-switch is, now more obviously, key. Dumbing down, presenting as a caricature of male jerk, feigning disinterest, omitting any detail of your critique, designing for provocation, you’ve crafted what amounts to manufactured deconstruction. Clearly you didn’t want to be directly addressed. That wouldn’t provide what you with material for your projects. I have been played. And I like how that shows me aspects of my participation in masculine conspiracy culture. I love that I took you seriously despite your languaging. 18 In some ways, this criticism holds true, but it is partial. My original reply on the blog was: I am transparent in my aims: to unpack problematic manifestations of spirituality and gender (both in combination and separately), speciﬁ cally from within a spiritual worldview, rather than the likes of the New Atheists. There is nothing manufactured about my deconstruction, and nothing that dumbs down (I make no apology for writing about complex ideas in relatively simple language: it’s a rare skill). You may not be used to my style, and I may not be what you initially thought, but you most certainly have not been ‘played’ by me. Perhaps, though, you’ve discovered that you need to question how you perceive things, which is no bad thing. 19 The element to Commenter Kerry Dugan’s complaint that bothered me was the idea that I had ‘played’ him, as if the whole exercise was nothing but an exercise in manipulation for the mischievous sake of troublemaking. Certainly, I am often playful in the way I go about my business, but this is altogether different. Nor does strategically adopting a speciﬁ c voice equate with ‘playing’ people: it is an interpretive lens through which to view the world that can be pulled back any number of stops to bring different aspects of the debate into focus. But, while diverse and strategic, nor are these voices wholly imagined: they all speak for me, or at least different parts of me, jostling for pole position in any given situation: these voices speak for those ‘contextually activated selves’ (McConnell 2011 , p. 4).

Conclusion

While multiple identities within the self can be a dissociative strategy mobilised by the psyche in response to trauma, they can also provide a way of understanding the different elements that comprise the unitary self and interact within the model of the dialogical self. Indeed, as the above sections demonstrate, for me, at least, it is only through the acknowledgement of multiple masculine selves that something resembling the truth can be revealed. If my multiple masculine selves are silenced—either by the pressures of my environment or a lack of self-awareness—I am forced to retreat into and perpetuate a caricature of a mono-dimensional masculine self; I am also forced to inhabit a similarly caricatured political and ideological position that is unlikely to accurately represent the nuance of my worldview. Via the theme of sexuality, I have shown that I hold various positions on the multiple self-aspects framework, and some of these appear contradictory: the gay man, the queer theorist, the straight man, the father, the deliberately sexually Will the Real Joseph Gelfer Please Stand Up… 61 ambiguous man, the profeminist who worries about the objectifi cation of women and the red-blooded male whose head is turned in the street. Via the theme of style, I have shown that I hold various other positions, which again do not always sit in clear alignment: critic of normative masculinity who speaks in the voice of normative masculinity, playful source of innuendo, trekker of fantastic conclusions, young person, demonic, elitist, fe’man’nazi communist, male jerk and so on. Some of these selves and identities are assigned by me as a way of communicating the complexity of my unitary self and analysing masculinity as a whole; others are assigned to me by critics in a way which resembles either a remarkable unwillingness to acknowledge the equal complexity of their own masculine selves laid bare or a way of denying in a regulatory manner my multiple masculine selves by rendering them singular and containable. Both the examples of sexuality and style demonstrate Egeberg Holmgren and Hearn’s (2009 ) account of various profeminist positionings, of my passing as a profeminist via both a confessional narrative and counter-hegemonic practice. Whereas some may identify various men holding one position, here we saw various positions held by one man. In this identifi cation process of positionings, Egeberg Holmgren and Hearn note ‘there is nothing as suspicious as other (pro)feminist men’ (p. 409): here I would identify this hermeneutic of suspicion in operation between my own various positions via a continual process of self analysis and a constant interrogation of the dialogical self. A similar process takes place in the general study of masculinities. Depending on which of the above positions is in ascendancy, I might fi nd myself engaging in Men’s Studies, Critical Studies on Men or even Male Studies. I certainly do not feel that any single commonly understood approach to the study of masculinities fully acknowledges its complexity. How these individual subdisciplines go about regulating one another is also not always as clear-cut as it seems. For example, Critical Studies on Men, with its promotion of multiple masculinities, does an excellent job of critiquing how hegemonic or conservative masculinity mobilises power, but it is curiously quiet on the subject of that same ostensibly singular hegemony or conservatism having its own multiple nature. 20 In the spirit of Slavoj Žižek’s (2008 ) ‘defense of lost causes’, we might more fruitfully engage with the supposed claims of universalism within hegemonic or conservative masculinity and hold them in tension with our own discourse of multiplicity, as the latter must allow some life for the former in order for its very nature to maintain integrity. More importantly, Žižek’s point is not so much to argue for those lost causes rather ‘to render problematic the all-too-easy liberal- democratic alternative’ (2008 , p. 6). In the present context, those of us informed by feminist and queer theories (the ‘liberal-democratic alternative’) continually run the risk of creating new orthodoxies and new hegemonies as we attempt to deconstruct the old. The critique of the—largely conservative—vision of a singular hegemonic masculinity has resulted in an alternative of multiple masculinities which, while necessary and important, are in themselves of a singular nature . By identifying and navigating multiple masculinities within the self, we do greater justice to the discourse of multiplicity. 21 62 J. Gelfer

Bearing witness to these multiple identities involves a reinterpretation of what is often perceived to be contradictory. Certainly, it is the case that contradiction can be the result of poor argumentation or even a darker agenda involving the assertion of power of one party over another. However, sometimes what appears to be contradictory is more accurately a subtle paradox in which the ‘truth’ may more easily be found. 22 There are, for example, what may appear to be several paradoxical roles on the multiple self-aspects framework responsible for the authorship of this article: Gelfer the theoretician and the social activist (which I am quite happy with), Gelfer the showman and the trickster (which I am rather ambivalent about) and Gelfer the poseur and the narcissist (which I’m not so keen on). It is only with all these multiple selves and identifi es working in concert that I can offer an honest and full account of both myself and how I perceive my fi eld of research. It is only by at least allowing for the possibility of such multiple selves and identifi es in others that suffi cient nuance can be allocated to the understanding of the masculine self, the study of masculinities and indeed all identity politics. 23

Notes

1. One example being David Tacey’s ( 1997 ) attempt to fi nd a middle way between the profeminist and mythopoetic men’s movement 2. I use the prefi x ‘Commenter’ to indicate when a quote is from a person on the Internet who is responding to my work rather than a traditionally published source. All spelling and grammar from these comments is retained and sources provided with a URL. These Commenters themselves are good examples of multiple (probably) masculine identities: largely anonymous and inhabiting a different (rather than in between) space from both the intimacy of personal communication and the mediated identity of the traditionally editorialised and published text. The nature of these comments is also informed by the context of the exchange, in which I am the ‘expert’ with the published books and articles, and it is the ‘role’ of the reader to identify problems/comment on the text, with any consequent exchanges potentially being infl uenced by an asymmetrical power balance between author and reader. 3 . http://www.amazon.com/gp/forum/cd/discussion.html/ref=ntt_mus_ep_cd_tft_tp?ie=UTF8 &cdForum=Fx1AWPAXYFC533Z&cdThread=Tx1L0SB83UK80OQ . All URLs access January 2012 4 . http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Joseph_Gelfer&oldid=2838765 . Oddly, the same Wiki Vandal had a similar bone to pick with the Methodist revivalist Howell Harris, Jazz musician John Mehegan and actor Christopher Eccleston. [ http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/ Wikipedia:Requests_for_investigation/Archives/2004/06 ] 5. My stock conversational reply to the ‘are you gay’ question is, ‘I have a wife and three children: deduce from that what you will’. I must confess to enjoying the discomfort this instils in some people. 6. Here I see ‘identity’ as being the Gelfer seen by others, the ‘self’ as the Gelfer I navigate. 7. ‘(1)—Predominantly heterosexual, only incidentally homosexual; (2)—Predominantly heterosexual, but more than incidentally homosexual’ (Kinsey et al. 1948 , p. 638) 8. These constituent parts enjoy different prominence depending on circumstance: is a bodily Gelfer in ascendancy or an analytical Gelfer (a false binary, perhaps)? Sometimes the prominence is chosen, other times imposed. See the discussion about ‘dominance in dialogical relations’ with its reference to symmetrical and asymmetrical relationships (Hermans and Kempen 1993 , pp. 72–78). Will the Real Joseph Gelfer Please Stand Up… 63

9. I owe this insight to Christian de Quincey ( 2000) who used it as a focus for his examination of integral theorist Ken Wilber, which I extended in my argument about Wilber’s masculinist style (Gelfer 2009, pp. 115–117): it seems only fair I turn the same interpretive lens upon myself. 10. http://www.realitysandwich.com/masculine_spiritualities_ and_problem_patriarchy#comment-22410 11. http://www.amazon.com/Numen-Old-Men-Contemporary-Spiritualities/product- reviews/1845534190/ref=dp_top_cm_cr_acr_txt?ie=UTF8&showViewpoints=1 12. Within the context of the dialogical self, this is described as ventriloquation, where ‘an individual speaker is not simply talking as an individual, but that in his or her utterances the voices of groups and institutions are heard’ (Hermans and Kempen 1993 , p. 76). 13. http://forum.onlineopinion.com.au/thread.asp?article=10383#169956 14. http://forum.onlineopinion.com.au/thread.asp?article=10383#169996 15. http://forum.onlineopinion.com.au/thread.asp?article=10383#170075 16. http://forum.onlineopinion.com.au/thread.asp?article=10383#170007 17. http://forum.onlineopinion.com.au/thread.asp?article=10383#170145 18. http://numenoldmen.wordpress.com/2010/07/10/integral-institute- australia-pt-2/#comment-336 19. http://numenoldmen.wordpress.com/2010/07/10/integral-institute- australia-pt-2/#comment-337 20. I owe this thought to conversations with Jason Thompson, previously Australian coordinator of International Men’s Day. 21. Hermans and Kempen (1993 ) make an interesting point applicable here about the singular notion of the self being reliant on the ‘not me’ via a split, and how this is ‘not just to distinguish, but to value and judge other things in opposition’ (p. 119). Hermans and Kempen opt to conceive of the self ‘as a multiplicity of I positions in which the other, positively or negatively evaluated, cannot be dissolved from the self’ (pp. 119–120). This can result not just—as Hermans and Kempen suggest—in a continual negotiation of the self and its boundaries, but also, in our context, in a method through which new understandings about the research and politics of masculinities can be formed. 22. As I write this conclusion, I realise that even my other current and unrelated research on the 2012 phenomenon also echoes this process: one article I wrote (Gelfer 2011) is called In a Prophetic Voice: Australia 2012 , in which I play around with analysing 2012 prophecies while slipping into my own ‘prophetic voice’ about new prophecies. Further still, I presented another paper (Gelfer 2010d) where I showed how it is often diffi cult in 2012 literature to fi gure out whether an author is speaking in a genuinely prophetic voice or a science- fi ctional voice. The answer, it seems, is both: a popular manifestation of Irigarayan mimesis, albeit with a more commercialised authorial intent. 23. This chapter is a reprint from NORMA: Nordic Journal for Masculinity Studies (2012, p. 2).

References

Angelides, S. (2001). A history of bisexuality . Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Bauman, Z. (2000). Liquid modernity . Cambridge: Polity Press. Brod, H. (1987). Introduction: Themes and theses of men’s studies. In H. Brod (Ed.), The making of masculinities: The new men’s studies (pp. 1–20). Boston: Allen & Unwin. Butler, J. (1999). Gender trouble: Feminism and the subversion of identity (2nd ed.). London: Routledge. Butler, J. (2004). Undoing gender . London: Routledge. Carrette, J., & King, R. (2005). Selling spirituality: The silent takeover of religion . London: Routledge. Carrigan, T., Connell, R. W., & Lee, J. (1987). Toward a new sociology of masculinity. In H. Brod (Ed.), The making of masculinities: The new men’s studies (pp. 63–100). Boston: Allen & Unwin. 64 J. Gelfer

Connell, R. W., & Messerschmidt, J. W. (2005). Hegemonic masculinity: Rethinking the concept. Gender and Society, 19 (6), 829–859. de Quincey, C. (2000). The promise of integralism. A critical appreciation of Ken Wilber’s integral psychology. Journal of Consciousness Studies, 7 (11–12), 177–208. Deleuze, G. & Guattari, F. l. (1987). A thousand plateaus: Capitalism and schizophrenia (B. Massumi, Trans.). Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Egeberg Holmgren, L., & Hearn, J. (2009). Framing ‘men in feminism’: Theoretical locations, local contexts and practical passings in men’s gender-conscious positionings on gender and equality. Journal of Gender Studies, 18 (4), 403–418. Gelfer, J. (2009). Numen, old men: Contemporary masculine spiritualities and the problem of patriarchy . London: Equinox Publishing. Gelfer, J. (2010a). A river runs through it: Queer theory and fatherhood. In M. R. Marotte & P. M. Reynolds (Eds.), Papa, Ph.D.: Essays on fatherhood by men in the academy (pp. 46–49). New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press. Gelfer, J. (2010b). The masculinity conspiracy. Online Opinion . Retrieved Dec 1, 2012, from http://www.onlineopinion.com.au/view.asp?article=10383 Gelfer, J. (2010c). Lohas and the indigo dollar: Growing the spiritual economy. New Proposals: Journal of Marxism and Interdisciplinary Inquiry, 4 (1), 48–60. Gelfer, J. (2010d). 2012: Fantasy futures in Australia and New Zealand . The Fourth Australian Conference on Utopia, Dystopia and Science Fiction, Monash University, August 30. Retrieved Dec 1, 2012, from http://arts.monash.edu.au/ecps/assets/podcasts/2010-08-30t1303-gelfer-f antasy- futures-in-australia-and-new-zealand-utopias-conference.mp3 Gelfer, J. (2011). In a prophetic voice: Australasia 2012. In J. Gelfer (Ed.), 2012: Decoding the Countercultural Apocalypse (pp. 144–162). Shefﬁ eld: Equinox Publishing. Giddens, A. (1991). Modernity and self-identity: Self and society in the late modern age . Cambridge: Polity Press. Glass, J. M. (1993). Shattered selves: Multiple personality in a postmodern world. Ithaca: Cornell University Press. Groth, M. (2010). Male studies and men’s studies: Not simply a matter of words. Men ’s News Daily . Retrieved from http://mensnewsdaily.com/2010/02/28/male-studies-and-mens-studies- not-simply-a-matter-of-words-2/ Hacking, I. (1995). Rewriting the soul: Multiple personality and the sciences of memory . Princeton: Princeton University Press. Halberstam, J. (1998). Female masculinity . Durham: Duke University Press. Hare-Mustin, R. T., & Marecek, J. (Eds.). (1990). Making a difference: Psychology and the construction of gender . New Haven: Yale University Press. Hay, H. (1996). Radically gay: Gay liberation in the words of its founder . Boston: Beacon. Hearn, J. (1997). The implications of critical studies on men. NORA. Nordic Journal of Women’s Studies, 3 (1), 48–60. Hearn, J., & Pringle, K. (2006). Studying men in Europe. In J. Hearn & K. Pringle (Eds.), European perspectives on men and masculinities: National and transnational approaches (pp. 1–19). Basingstoke: Palgrave. Hermans, H., & Kempen, H. (1993). The dialogical self: Meaning as movement. San Diego: Academic. Irigaray, L. (1993). An ethics of sexual difference . Ithaca: Cornell University Press. Kinsey, A. C., Pomeroy, W. B., & Martin, C. E. (1948). Sexual behavior in the human male . Philadelphia: W. B. Saunders. Kluft, R. P., & Fine, C. G. (Eds.). (1993). Clinical perspectives in multiple personality disorder . Washington, DC: American Psychiatric Press. Kozel, S. (1996). The diabolic strategy of mimesis: Luce Irigaray’s reading of Maurice Merleau- Ponty. Hypatia, 11 (3), 114–129. Lorber, J. (1994). Paradoxes of gender . New Haven: Yale University Press. Lorber, J., & Farrell, S. A. (Eds.). (1991). The social construction of gender. Newbury Park: Sage. Will the Real Joseph Gelfer Please Stand Up… 65

Mansﬁ eld, H. (2006). Manliness . New Haven: Yale University Press. Marks, S. R., & MacDermid, S. M. (1996). Multiple roles and the self: A theory of role balance. Journal of Marriage and Family, 58 (2), 417–432. McConnell, A. R. (2011). The multiple self-aspects framework: Self-concept representation and its implications. Personality and Social Psychology Review, 15 (1), 3–27. Pleck, J. H. (1987). The theory of male sex-role identity: Its rise and fall, 1936 to the present. In H. Brod (Ed.), The making of masculinities: The new men’s studies (pp. 21–38). Boston: Allen & Unwin. Putnam, F. W. (1989). Diagnosis and treatment of multiple personality disorder . New York: The Guilford Press. Roberts, B. W., & Donahue, E. M. (1994). One personality, multiple selves: Integrating personality and social roles. Journal of Personality, 62 (2), 199–218. Rutter, P. (1989). Sex in the forbidden zone: When men in power—therapists, doctors, clergy, teachers and others—betray women’s trust . Los Angeles: J. P. Tarcher. Schwartz, S. J., Zamboanga, B. L., & Weisskirch, R. S. (2008). Broadening the study of the self: Integrating the study of personal identity and cultural identity. Social and Personality Psychology Compass, 2 (2), 635–651. Scott, S. (1999). Fragmented selves in late modernity: Making sociological sense of multiple personalities. The Sociological Review, 47 (3), 433–460. Stone, A. (2004). From political to realist essentialism: Rereading Luce Irigaray. Feminist Theory, 5 (1), 5–23. Tacey, D. (1997). Remaking men: Jung, spirituality and social change . London: Routledge. Walby, S. (1990). Theorizing patriarchy . Oxford: Basil Blackwell. West, C., & Zimmerman, D. H. (1987). Doing gender. Gender and Society, 1 (2), 125–151. Yoshino, K. (2000). The epistemic contract of bisexual erasure. Stanford Law Review, 52 (2), 353–461. Žižek, S. (2008). In defense of lost causes . London: Verso. Part II Masculinity and Stability Youthful Warrior Masculinities in Indonesia

Pam Nilan , Argyo Demartoto , and Agung Wibowo

This chapter looks at contemporary masculinities in Indonesia, the fourth most- populated country in the world. Theoretically, this chapter makes use of the work of Honneth (1997 ) on recognition and Horrocks (1995 ) on the formation of masculinities. Horrocks proposes that dominant ideas about ideal masculinity are infl uential in the shaping of male subjectivity and are communicated through myths, heroic narratives, and legends. These abound in the traditions of the Indonesian archipelago, along with a range of beliefs and superstitions about the gendered body and warrior invulnerability. At the same time, global discourses of gender equity, gay rights, hypermasculinity, and Islamist activism are also infl uential, although we do not discuss them here. Nor is there any claim that the masculinities described below are in any way normative for Indonesia. We use accounts taken from our ethnographic research and some relevant studies to look specifi cally at how warrior mythology and concepts of the male body inform some current constructions of youthful masculinity. The topic of men and masculinities in the region remains under-researched (Ford and Lyons 2012). Studies of masculinity in Indonesia have not been numerous to date, although they have addressed a variety of male identity constructions

P. Nilan (*) School of Humanities and Social Science, Faculty of Education and Arts University of Newcastle , Callaghan , NSW 2308 , Australia e-mail: [email protected] A. Demartoto , M.Sci Department of Sociology, Faculty of Social and Political Sciences , Sebelas Maret University , Ir. Sutami Street 36 A Kentingan , Surakarta 57121 , Indonesia A . W i b o w o Lab. UCYD Jurusan Sosiologi, Department of Sociology, Faculty of Social and Political Sciences , Sebelas Maret University , Ir. Sutami Street 36 A Kentingan , Surakarta 57121 , Indonesia e-mail: [email protected]

J. Gelfer (ed.), Masculinities in a Global Era, International and Cultural Psychology 4, 69 DOI 10.1007/978-1-4614-6931-5_4, © Springer Science+Business Media New York 2014 70 P. Nilan et al.

(e.g., Adian 2001 ; Clark 2004 , 2010 ; Elmhirst 2007 ; Boellstorff 2004 ; Harjito 2002 ; Oetomo 2000 ; Sunardi 2009 ; Van Wichelen 2009 ; Wilson 2012 ). Here we focus on the topic of youthful masculinity constructed through implicit reference to warrior mythology and supernatural invulnerability. We consider how the ﬂ ow of chthonic forces through the male body may be triggered by the symbolic or actual absence of recognition.

Indonesian Masculinities

In much contemporary gender theorizing it is acknowledged that there is no consistent and fi xed “self” and the human individual does not constitute a coherent entity. Rather, “the concepts of the unconscious, the ego and the superego in psychoanalysis formalize the idea that we are made up of contradictory parts, each of which may ‘speak’ at different times, or simultaneously” (Horrocks 1995 , p. 35). The subjectivity of male persons is then constituted within historically located discourses both social and cultural. The extent to which men may take up or repudiate, ignore or synthe- size, and amplify or challenge. This plenitude of discourses means that there is no one defi nable form of masculinity per se. Even for the same man, he may manifest very different constitutions of being masculine at different times and at different life stages. This view implies the synthesis of many cultural sources: historical archetypes, media and popular culture icons, sporting and military heroes, revered leaders, and even prophets. Such sources are not just aspects of culture that surround men. They are an integral part of the way they take themselves up as men and the way they produce themselves as masculine persons: “Culture constantly tells us who we are” (Horrocks 1995 , p. 37). Thus cultural discourses construct the position of phallocentric power to which men aspire, although not without contradiction. Male myths and icons are therefore central to both the imagined and the physical masculine self, especially if a Jungian viewpoint is taken (Horrocks 1995 ). So, for example, the fi gure of the hero can be understood as a symbol of the ego “struggling with the forces of the unconscious” (Horrocks 1995 , p. 41). Yet in the psychology of masculinity, this symbolic struggle is also a quest for “recognition” (Honneth 1997 ) because men benchmark their own accomplishment of masculinity against that of other men (Horrocks 1995 ). Perceived “disrespect” (Honneth 1997 , p. 93) cuts deeply into the successful constitution of a legitimate masculine self. Moreover, this “recognition” through the appropriation of male myths and icons is a double movement relevant to subjectivity. For Honneth, subjectivity is founded on intersubjective relations, in which the individual ideally perceives himself to be recognized in his dignity and autonomy, a necessity if he is to maintain a positive relation to himself. Enacting a warrior/hero scenario, therefore, constitutes strong self-recognition even as it forces the recognition of the self by social others, especially through fi ghting or confrontation. Youthful Warrior Masculinities in Indonesia 71

This framing of recognition is a useful heuristic for understanding how violence between men may arise from feelings of inferiority; “the social standing of subjects is indeed measured in terms of what they can accomplish for society within the context of their particular forms of self-realization” (Honneth 1997 , p. 127). Where this accomplishment is thwarted or undervalued, men may ﬁ ght with other men and thereby be forcibly recognized through gaining status and even income (Messerschmidt 1993 ). Physical struggles between men may be referenced directly to male myths and icons, even to the superhuman hero’s quest for victory. In a country like Indonesia, steeped in tales of conquering kings, rogue princes, and unassail- able warriors that changed the course of history, discourses of military heroism and supernatural prowess are never very far away.

Indonesian Understandings of What It Is to Be a Man

Gender refers to ideas of masculinity and femininity in relation to what men and women do and how they appear to others (Horrocks 1995 ). However, since gender is socially and culturally constructed, what counts as masculine in a man and feminine in a woman depends on both time and place (Gelfer 2011 , pp. 2–3). While the ideals of masculinity and femininity in Indonesia have much in common with the rest of the world, some differences strike the foreign observer. For example, both men and women work as laborers on roads and construction sites. This has nothing to say about the femininity of the female laborers, which it might in the West, but points to the class position of male and female laborers. On the other hand, male politicians and other public fi gures frequently croon sentimental songs to their elec- torate, or even shareholders, a practice that would diminish their masculine standing in the West but increases their seductive masculine charisma in Indonesia. However, if you ask Indonesians about masculinity and femininity, regardless of religion, you will most often get an answer that refers to God’s work in making men and women different so as to create harmonious complementarity (Adian 2001 ). This difference is understood to be not just physical, or reproductive, but is perceived as an interior essence of maleness or femaleness, respectively, and therefore bound up with important spiritual ideas of polarity and balance. The western terms masculinity and femininity are understood to refer to this separation of inner essences into the hard and soft characteristics of men and women, respectively. The notion of kodrat (a role predetermined and destined by God) is usually employed to explain gender differences. So, in Indonesia, the usual understanding of masculinity is kodrati (God’s plan), rather than konstruksi (socially constructed) (Adian 2001 ). The role of a mature man— kodrat pria—is to be a husband, father, and provider (Nilan et al. 2009 ). The term kodrati, like kodrat, implies a deterministic discourse of gender (Adian 2001 ). Nevertheless, Indonesian thinking about gender is not necessarily anchored in determinist gender concepts (Clark 2010 ). Fixed discourses about the kodrat (role) of 72 P. Nilan et al. men and women were actively promoted during the 30 years of the authoritarian New Order government (Clark 2010 ). There are some older concepts and understandings of gender fl uidity (Peletz 2009 ) that to some extent still inform ideas about gender and sexuality. For example, sexual attraction is commonly understood as a kind of magnetic draw between contrasting yet complementary inner masculine and feminine essences, which may or may not correspond to male and female bodies (Wieringa 1999 ; Boellstorff 2005 ; Grahame 2002 ; Blackwood 2007 ). Many Indonesian cultures recognize masculine females and feminine males, which is why the topic of homosexuality per se is so vexed. People struggle with the logic of how two persons who are the same sex in both physicality and in essence could be attracted to each other (Boellstorff 2005 ). Transgendered identity is much easier to understand. In short, gender appears to be traditionally understood as embodied subjectivity in which various opposing essences may battle it out for control and harmony. For instance, young unmarried men in Java are more or less expected to behave towards the kasar (coarse, fl amboyant) end of the masculine continuum because they are closer in nonmaterial essence to animals, while older married men are expected to behave in a more halus (refi ned, controlled) fashion because they are closer in nonmaterial essence to divine entities. The youthful male body is therefore popularly imagined as a conduit for powerful emotions—nafsu (Van Wichelen 2009 ; Peletz 1995 )—that might explode into violence. This is neither a biological nor a social model of the body but a physical body of a certain age through which either a primal chthonic power or a refi ned higher power is perceived to move more readily (Nilan et al. 2011 ). Consequently young men are thought to be potential fi ghters by nature. The New Order emphasis on all things military “was modelled on the values of the gagah (heroic) caste of warriors located in the upper echelons of the wayang world—the satria ” (Clark 2010 , p. 10). Core ksatria values are control of the fi ghting body, discipline, and the power to inspire fear in enemies through both physical strength and metaphysical capacities such as invulnerability when attacked (Wilson 2002). “Power is thus perceived to be relational, hierarchical, and instantiated through performance” (Wilson 2011 , p. 313), that is, adversarial interaction with other men in this case. Winning hints at charisma or the special power of sakti that is beyond that of ordinary human men. Sakti connotes potency; supernatural power concentrated in an individual. “The notion of sakti is highly gendered, and is often used in reference to male sexual potency” (Wilson 2011 , p. 314). The term implies phallocentric authority (Brenner 1995 ) . In any culture, ideals of masculinity must have “exemplars who are celebrated as heroes” (Connell 1990 , p. 83). Male heroes abound in Indonesian iconography. Every November historical war heroes are celebrated for their bravery (Bertrand 2010 ), including the Sumatran king Sisingamangaraja XII, renegade soldier Kapitan Pattimura of Ambon, and Betawi resistance fi ghter Si Pitung. Legend has it that all of these Indonesian heroes were magically invulnerable to a greater or lesser extent. Many Southeast Asian cultures share such beliefs (O’Reilly 2007 ). This warrior/ hero iconography resonates to some extent with “hypermasculinity,” a mediated global discourse that sets “the standard” (Ling 1999 , p. 278) of toughness, physical prowess, and distance from the feminine by which young men everywhere may Youthful Warrior Masculinities in Indonesia 73 evaluate their behavior. As men grow up, they seek to become what they admire in other men (Horrocks 1995 ). Certainly western global media sources relentlessly peddle the seemingly indestructible tropes of “hard” masculinity that feed this quest but so also do Asian media sources such as Kung Fu fi lms and Manga cartoons. Nevertheless, the “magical” warrior/hero has a long history in the Indonesian archipelago and provides a local point of reference.

Methodology

The interview transcripts discussed below come from a mixed-method study of masculinities and violence in Indonesia (and India) in 2009–2010. 1 Quotes are taken from interviews about men and violence with 86 men aged 17–28 in the Indonesian cities of Jakarta, Pekanbaru, Solo, Makassar, and Mataram. The informant code designates the city (J = Jakarta, P = Pekanbaru, S = Solo, MK = Makassar, MT = Mataram), and a number designates the interview. So S5 means the interviewee was the fi fth person interviewed in Solo. Interviews with men for the project were arranged using a “snowballing” research strategy (Berg 2006 ) by male Indonesian postgraduate research assistants who had been coached for effective interviewing on sensitive topics. The snowballing approach accesses interviewees through social links to obtain complementary accounts. A semi-structured interviewing approach was taken. The value of semi- structured interviews lies in the combination of structure and fl exibility. Project aims direct the questions asked in semi-structured interviews, yet at the same time the technique allows “some probing” into deeper meanings due to an informal interviewing style and variable interview time (Silverman 2006 , p. 110). Here interview questions were fi xed to the extent that they elicited accounts to directly address project aims. Yet at the same time, the questions were open enough to offer the men freedom for refl ection and elaboration of responses. Interviews were transcribed and coded in Indonesian. 2 Quotes were excerpted under coding categories and then translated into English.

The Invulnerable Hero

We are proud of how tough we are. When we win, we get the reputation. That makes our enemies respect us. Around here if you have a few supernatural powers (…) you get respect. (MT14, 34, gang member, Hindu, married, Mataram, 17 June 2010) Possession of supernatural powers is a feature of warrior/hero iconography in Indonesia. Several researchers on Indonesian martial arts have similarly noted the mythical hypermasculinity of advanced practitioners. For example, in a study of the Javanese fi ghting art pencak silat, 3 Wilson (2002 ) maintains that historically, “fear and awe” was inspired by those men “who had mastered fi ghting arts and obtained 74 P. Nilan et al. physical invulnerability” (p. 28). One of our interviewees named “strength in fi ghting, magic invulnerability” (MT7, 30, student, Muslim, married, Mataram, 16 June 2010) as characteristics of local strongmen. Invulnerability (ilmu kebal) does not come only from physical strength and mastery of fi ghting skills but represents inner power, a metaphysical dimension in this martial art, sometimes known as debus or dabus. For example, Wilson (2002 ) witnessed a public display of invulnerability when pious and highly trained silat com- batants challenged political followers of President Habibie in 1999, “to a crowd of several hundred this group performed feats such as withstanding blows from an iron spike, washing themselves with sulfuric acid, slicing their tongues with machetes without shedding blood and regurgitating live bats, all done without suffering any physical harm” (p. 265). Elsewhere, Wilson (2011 ) records public displays where practitioners shatter “concrete slabs and stacks of iron pump handles with their hands and feet” (p. 303). Strong and impervious to physical harm, silat heroes are thought to have developed “inner power” through pious, esoteric, and ascetic practices. Courage, dedicated training, and self-discipline are considered essential to the development of invulnerability. However, a range of other practices and devices are also employed. These include talismans and amulets (Sarwono 2004 ), magic weapons (Farrer 2009 ), skin implants (Kadir 2012), and chanting the “ancestors” (Wilson 2011 , p. 302) and also prayer, meditation, sexual abstinence, not sleeping, special diets, fasting, animal sacrifi ce, pilgrimages and visiting sacred sites, retreats to caves, secret mantras, magic strengthening oils, and even electric shocks (Wilson 2002 , 2012 ). Skills in sensory and extrasensory perception, even hypnotism, form part of some silat training (Wilson 2002 ). All are designed to construct the invulnerable fi ghter, the superman who barely lifts a fi nger in defense: When I was younger I was a “cowboy”; I liked to fi ght and thought I was pretty tough. The fi rst time I saw Kang Djadjat, I thought, “who does this guy think he is?” But when I fi nally met him I immediately submitted to his authority. He had such charisma, he could defeat an opponent with his mere presence without resorting to physical confl ict. (Silat combatant Maryatno, Bandung, 1999, quoted in I. Wilson 2002 , p. 113) Attracting loyal followers is an important sign of charisma. The logic here is that men will only follow leaders with exceptional qualities: Men who are respected where I hang out are those who have a lot of followers. So if he heads up a gang with a lot of members, he’s respected. (P3, 25, street trader and motorbike racer, Muslim, single, Pekanbaru, 8 August 2010) In ancient times, warrior training was a “body-orientated religiosity” (Wilson 2002 , p. 34). Later the practices were incorporated in the spread of Islam and even institutionalized. Basing physical movements upon Arabic letters and elements of the Koran is “common within pencak silat culture” (Wilson 2002, p. 43). In Sumatran silat, Barendregt ( 1995 ) claims the Koran is associated directly with corporeality and informs the training focus on the fi ghting body of the young man. Spiritually aligned patterns of breathing and movement are keys that open different “reservoirs of energy” (Wilson 2002 , p. 146). Moving in accordance with the divine word, the fi ghter fl uidly channels the will of God through his body and is protected from harm. Youthful Warrior Masculinities in Indonesia 75

The practice of silat became part of the curriculum of Islamic boarding schools (Van Bruinessen 1995 ), and boys in traditional pesantren still learn it to this day. 4 The trainees face Mecca as they learn. A direct link is thereby made between the physical learning of combat moves and divine invocation (Wilson 2002 , p. 71). A strong relationship between Islam and martial combat was certainly evident in the training and tactics of contemporary Muslim schoolboy gangs in Yogyakarta studied by Kadir (2012 ). This is discussed in more detail below.

The Jago or Strongman

The neighborhood strongman, sometimes known as the jago , has been a feature of Indonesian community life for a very long time: “Extortion, intimidation and beatings at the hands of the jago, literally a ‘cock’ or ‘rooster,’ but colloquially a descrip- tor for a type of local strongman, constitute an unsavoury aspect of everyday life in urban and rural centres throughout Indonesia” (Wilson 2012 , p. 121). He does not act alone but leads a band of tough men who carry out his wishes. They may maintain security by defending and assisting the community. On the other hand, such men make their living out of violence and intimidation; they control and exploit people and territory: Around here there are certain kinds of men who become street thugs. They most often get involved in violence because they feel they have the authority to control a certain territory, for example the market. Such men are solidly built, they look really fi erce, many of them have tattoos and piercings. The main reason they conduct violence and practice intimidation is so that they will be feared in the local area. (R21, 34, policeman, married, Muslim, Pekanbaru, 3 September, 2010) A local strongman or gang leader who has knowledge of silat, and is regarded as invulnerable, is often called upon by community members to “settle disputes and deal with troublemakers”. Jago masculinity encapsulates “specifi c notions of honour, territoriality and violence” (Wilson 2012 , p. 121). We might interpret this as a kind of protest masculinity: “compensatory claims to imagined powerfulness on the part of marginalized young men experiencing social injury at their lack of real power, expressed through a hypermasculine style” (Poynting 2007 , p. 511). The jago lives and dies—literally—by his reputation: “There are a number of volatile and violent traditions linked to the preservation of masculine face in Indonesia” (Wilson 2012 , p. 124), including fi ghts to the death over matters of betrayed honor and treachery. We are reminded that “the social standing of subjects” depends on recognition (Honneth 1997 , p. 127). At the lowest socioeconomic level, the possession of money is the main measure of male honor status, for example: Around where I live, for a man to be respected, fi rst, he has to have money. He must have capital resources, a fi xed income. (J11, 28, motorbike gang member, unmarried, Muslim, Jakarta, 7 August, 2010) Messerschmidt (1993 ) argued that where honor (recognition) is not available through conventional means such as steady income, violent or criminal behavior 76 P. Nilan et al. may gain men the status they want. One interviewee maintained that “a real hard man will stare down the men below him” (J2, 40, ex-prisoner, married, Muslim, Jakarta, 12 August, 2010). The jago fosters belief in his magical and supernatural abilities, connoting his body as an immutable site of power, a potent masculine body which can thwart and compel the actions of other men.

The Quiet Menace of the Hypermasculine Warrior

Studying Muslim schoolboy gangs in Yogyakarta, Kadir (2012 ) maintains that a gang leader is defi ned through “his ability to dominate and infl uence others and build up an entourage” (p. 361). Yet when Kadir met gang leaders, past and present, they were “welcoming,” “open,” and “always smiled”; their followers confi rmed that they were “cool,” calm, and decisive (p. 362). A similar view was put by two of our informants from different cities: A man who is violent but presents a quiet but terrifying face to the world is usually more feared and even respected. He has tackled misfortune in the world of the fi ght and never been beaten. He has been in the police cells many times and he inspires fear in my neighborhood. (S12, 21, factory worker, unmarried, Muslim, Solo, 27 July, 2009) Yes such men conduct violence, but the important thing is that their personality is powerful. This guy will have a certain kind of character that means we can see this is a man who will carry out violence, he has the look about him. (MK3, 25, university student, unmarried, Muslim, Makassar, 16 June, 2010) In both instances, the aura of authority implies mastery of chthonic forces nascent in the male body. The capacity for a fl ow of explosive violence to move upward is observable but controlled, so the body is calm. Through mastery of his own inner energies, he controls and channels not only his own capacity to produce violence but that of others; “a leader who acts cool is seen by their followers to have a kind of ‘masculine power’ aura” (Kadir 2012 , p. 362). One interviewee praised “the man with charisma” (S3, 44, public servant, widowed, Christian, Solo, 29 July, 2009), while another mentioned that a local strongman “has charisma and authority” (S13, 31, security po lice, married, Muslim, Solo, 29 July, 2009). The attribute of invulnerability is never very far away. Kadir found that gang leaders had obtained “amulets” from shamans that made them “immune” and “invincible”: Hamid, for instance, had a lot of magic implants (susuk) in his wrists and fi ngers. Hamid got them from his shaman in Wonosari, a village south of Yogyakarta. Furthermore, he had a kind of talisman kept in his wallet that he believed would keep him safe. The task of one of Hamid’s assistants was to be always ready to hold his wallet when he entered a bathroom, because his wallet held the holy talisman that had to be kept in a state of purity and could not be carried when entering a dirty place. (Kadir 2012 , p. 362) This example demonstrates the extent to which Indonesian men understand various paradigms of masculinity (their own and others’) in terms of esoteric practices and ancient fi gures which still have currency in the present. In describing Youthful Warrior Masculinities in Indonesia 77 local strongmen who seem calm and benevolent, but are violent, an older man in our study made reference to the wayang kulit trickster Sengkuni, “around where I live we have the kind of men Javanese would describe as a clever bad warrior— Sengkuni … The Sengkuni men who conduct violence have two faces, they are deceptive” (S7, 50, Local Golkar Secretary, married, Muslim, Solo, 28 July, 2009). According to the legend, Sengkuni was a knight from a small kingdom who rose to become prime minister to the monarch because he was smart, cunning, and invulnerable. He always made his actions look good, even though they were achieved through dirty tricks. He is a favorite character among the wayang shadow puppets—admired yet despised.

Initiation: The Warrior Born Anew

In the story of how Sengkuni rose to power and in many other legends from the Majapahit period in Java, there is a process of transformation where the immature boy or young man is transformed into the mature, supernaturally endowed warrior. In the modern era, this may take the form of initiation. A feature of the schoolboy gangs studied by Kadir (2012 ) is the recruitment and induction of new members. At a Muslim boys’ high school in Yogyakarta, new boys demonstrate their aptitude for violence early on. In the canteen area, aspirants tackle each other, physically bully smaller boys, and use strong language to attract attention from the leader. If they impress the gang seniors with their tough attitude, they undergo the initiation ritual. A boy has to defend himself for 3 min against 7–10 older boys at once. The point of attack is the face. The boy must show stoic bravery in enduring the attack. A senior boy acts as timekeeper. After three painful minutes of being beaten and kicked, the new member is taken on a motorbike to be shown the schools against which he will fi ght. Answers must be given correctly to the question—“who is the enemy?” (Hatib Kadir, personal communication, Yogyakarta, November 2009). This rite of initiation has a local point of reference in martial arts training. The silat neophyte too must pass an initiation which involves not only vows but a period of “physical pain” that will “test their resolve and dedication” (Wilson 2002, p. 50). There are also local mythic sources such as the magically reborn Javanese warrior Gatotkaca. As Jabang Tutuka (the young Gatotkaca), the powerless body of the boy child was still attached by the umbilical cord, which had to be cut before the mature warrior could possess supernatural strength and invulnerability: “The weaker body, represented by Jabang Tutuka, must be destroyed; and then through supernatural forces … the body is brought back to life as the hero Gatotkaca” (Weintraub 2004 , p. 110). Gatotkaca has long been a popular choice for warrior symbolism in Indonesia (Anderson 1965 ; Sunardi 2009 ). The goal of strength and immunity in battle through a symbolic shedding of blood perhaps informs the schoolboy gang initiation rite described above. The endurance of physical violence prepares a novitiate for the fear and pain of battle, shaping his mental and physical aptitude towards the paradigmatic 78 P. Nilan et al. disposition of the fearless warrior. Bruises, blood, and swelling mark his body with honor. Through the transformative physical violence of the encounter, the boy is reborn as a warrior and recognized as such by a leader, who takes him up (wounded and bleeding) on his motorbike and personally gives him specialized knowledge about the enemy and territory. This is similar to the Indonesian martial arts oral tradition in which stories of past fi ghts are told, especially by masters of the art, “aside from describing technical elements of a style [of fi ghting] they are also instructional, outlining the ethics and morals of combat” (Wilson 2002 , p. 43). The same author points out that in the ancient Sundanese tradition, a warrior could become the ruler of a certain area of Java if he gained control of a “sacred site.” In the modern idiom, Yogyakarta schoolboy gangs fi ght in specifi c urban locations near schools: train stations, bus terminals, and local sport stadiums are marked as battlegrounds. Older gangs also battle for control of markets, transport hubs, and leisure spaces: An example of a local fi ght is between local gang one and gang two from somewhere else. When they meet face-to-face there will often be a fi ght because it comes down to a dispute about authority over territory. (S10, 20, university student, unmarried, Muslim, Solo, 27 July, 2009) In either case, the winning gang then “controls” that site and defends any attempt by a rival gang to take it over. Since defense is a continuous process all year long, bringing in new recruits through initiation is vitally important.

Youth and Control

As indicated above, it is widely believed the youthful masculine body more readily allows the fl ow through of strong emotions (nafsu) , primal chthonic power that manifests as physical violence. In interviews, we asked men of all ages what kind of men were most likely to get involved in violence. The vast majority mentioned youth: I think it [violence] is a major tendency among young men because their ego is still unstable, because their emotions shift so easily. (MT5, 27, Policeman and motor cycle club member, Hindu, married, Mataram, 15 June 2010) Those most likely to get involved in violence are young lads still at senior high school. They are adolescents and volatile. They can’t control their emotions. (J5, 25, bank clerk, unmarried, Muslim, Jakarta, 3 August, 2010) MT5 and J5 were young men in their twenties apparently talking about men younger than themselves. However, some young men talked directly about themselves and why they conducted violence, “I am still young, so my emotions can easily be provoked” (R2, 22, public order offi cer, Muslim, single, Pekanbaru, 6 August 2010). Many interviews mentioned control, for instance, “men who get involved in violence are temperamental, highly emotional and unstable. They can’t control Youthful Warrior Masculinities in Indonesia 79 themselves” (R9, 37, clerk, Muslim, married, 10 August, 2010), and “if they [men] can’t keep control of emotions that just overwhelm them, then violence is like a refl ex” (J9, 48, bus driver, married, Muslim, Jakarta, 9 August, 2010). This seems a different notion to the common western idea of a man becoming violent because he has “lost” his temper. Here it is more that the powerful fl ow of energy through the less refi ned male body cannot be controlled by the mind, especially when the man feels that he is not being given due recognition (Honneth 1997 ), “he always feels like he has nothing, and violence is the main way of getting satisfaction” (J2, 40, ex-prisoner, married, Muslim, Jakarta, 12 August, 2010). This was also implied in the following comment: The men who get involved in violence around here are stubborn and easily overcome by their emotions. They are easily provoked, they cannot just laugh off an insult and they want to win at all costs. (SI, 24, university student, unmarried, Muslim, Solo, 24 July, 2009) The idea of explosive pressure (corporeal and emotional) is frequently inferred in Indonesian public discourse about violence. For example, the Indonesian term amok refers to a mob in a murderous frenzy (Colombijn 2005 ), as if their bodies were possessed by a demonic force. Boellstorff (2004 , p. 469) describes amok as a “masculine and often collective enraged violence” triggered by shame or threat. Both recognition and fl ow are implied in those interpretations.

Recognition, Flow, and Pleasure

Recognition emerged as the strongest claim as to why men constructed themselves as the warrior/hero, for example, [Men] want to defend their honor … If they feel that their honor is threatened or they feel insulted or whatever, they will revolt against that and oppose the perpetrator. (R14, 25, private sector clerk, Muslim, unmarried, Pekanbaru, 16 July 2010) The initiation ritual described above is another intense form of recognition. The fl ow of violence directed at the schoolboy neophyte causes his blood to fl ow and, through endurance, identifi es him as one who has the potential to control the fl ow of volatile energy through the youthful body, in other words, the warrior. However, not only is he recognized by other gang members through the brave display as one who can potentially control the “fl ow” through inner strength of mind, he implicitly rec- ognizes himself in the moment too, along with his new responsibilities. Territory and honor may be lost if the Muslim schoolboy fi ghters cannot control their violence. The new recruit’s future fi ghting career will not be in random tussles but carefully planned and executed battles (Kadir 2012 ). The Muslim schoolboy gangs studied by Kadir drew upon another famous warrior paradigm enshrined in Islamic iconography in devising strategies to control the fl ow of the fi ght. For example, shaf was both an attack and a defense strategy. The fi rst line of troops attacks directly, the second line is for defense, and the third for control and backup. The leader is in the third line, controlling the attacking line and 80 P. Nilan et al. defending against an attack from behind. Shaf refers to orderly rows of Muslim men at prayer. It is believed that the strength of shaf determines victory in tawuran (fi ghting), just as the orderliness of prayer lines is believed to bring greater blessing (Kadir 2012 ). In another combined strategy, kloter, a group of fi ghters forms a garrison or attack/defense position, so that the garrison nearest the school has the strongest kloter . Attack then takes place in waves, like pilgrims arriving at Mecca. Another strategy, ishlah (reconciliation), is a temporary tactic of ceasing hostilities for some larger strategic purpose, like combining to attack a third group. These military strategies are taught to new boys every year in September (Kadir 2012 ). For gang members, whether Muslim schoolboys or motorcycle racers, libidinal satisfaction is gained by winning. This might be counted as the ultimate experience of recognition according to Messerschmidt’s ( 1993 ) thesis, for example, In a gang fi ght I feel at the time that we are in a position to win. I feel a sense of superiority at the moment of victory. I feel amazing and very powerful. (MK5, 19, motorbike gang member, unmarried, Muslim, Makassar, 21 June, 2010) We might read this as follows: in the brief moment of victory, MK5 experiences himself as the invulnerable fi ghter, the superman. This demonstrates the ubiquity of the extolled masculine paradigm, the male body as site of power and a potent body that controls the fl ow of violence and repels the actions of other men; “he is the jago, he has the capacity to conquer, he is the bravest” (J2, 40, ex-prisoner, married, Muslim, Jakarta, 12 August, 2010). Comments often hinted at the intense pleasure of winning. Another interview pointed out that “the character of a man who conducts violence is that he wants to control the other man. From conducting violence against the other man they get the satisfaction of control over him” (MK4, 22, student and sportsman, unmarried, Muslim, Makassar, 20 June, 2010). Kadir found similar fondness of remembered pleasure among ex-schoolboy gang members: “In Indonesia it is a common sentiment that being a high school student (siswa SMA) is the most beautiful “moment” in a young person’s life. It is striking then, for the young men studied here, that the sweetest memories of high school are … being involved in mass fi ghting” (Kadir 2012 , p. 352). We argue that pleasure is not constituted so much in the commission of violence per se but in control of the fl ow of violence through collective strategies of success. Intense joy is experienced in moments of victory, of winning, which might be termed the epitome of recognition achieved in the circumstances of these young men’s lives.

Conclusion

This chapter has shown that the shaping of youthful Javanese male subjectivity for some groups of young men still takes place in reference to heroic narratives and legends, especially those regarding the invulnerable warrior who defeats his enemies. Yet by no means do all Javanese (or Indonesian) young men favor violence, especially 14 years after the birth of democracy. Obviously socioeconomic status, Youthful Warrior Masculinities in Indonesia 81 piety, and personal preferences are relevant. Nevertheless, if culture tells us who we are, or might be, then time-honored discourse about the invulnerable warrior who can control the fl ow of violent energies constructs one authoritative position to which young men in Indonesia might aspire. This is not the same as western paradigms of hegemonic masculinity and reminds us how differently Asian masculinities might be constructed in terms of the body and the operation of force. Notably, in the person of the gang leader, the trope of warrior/hero may involve no physical violence at all, yet be the most admired form of masculinity in this constellation because the capacity for violence is potently sheathed. In the trope of the warrior/hero, the youthful masculine body is imagined as a conduit for powerful forces to achieve victory, whether physical or magical. Common perceptions in Java and other parts of Indonesia of why men do as they do often differ from common ideas in western thought about men and masculinities. For example, the concept of male child socialization is generally understood as the family or local community environment encouraging or discouraging certain kinds of identifi ed male behavior, such as aggression, rather than teaching the child to be a “boy,” as such, or even a person. In many quarters, the new baby is still commonly believed to embody—in part or whole—the spirit of a previously deceased family member, entering the physical plane again through the grace of God. Therefore, certain forces and traits are usually considered to be already present in the male child, as well as essences—male and female, chthonic and refi ned—which may or may not be in balance according to the time, date, and circumstances of his birth. So if a boy grows up to be an admired and seemingly invulnerable young “warrior,” he is unlikely to be understood, or understand himself, as the product of either socialization or genes/hormones, as he probably would be in the West. He will most likely see himself, and be seen by others, as “meant” (by a higher power and auspicious timing) to be that way. In terms of identity, we emphasize that the isolated self as a refl ective, striving entity constitutes much less of a focus than in the West. Rather, individual identity is attained far more palpably in collective moments of social practice and activities with others. In a culture where almost no one spends time alone, individual identity is highly contingent upon belonging to distinct groups of people: family, clan, peers, religious or ethnic group, and so on. Moreover, with regard to gender identity, the patriarchal order of Indonesia for boys and men inheres in hierarchical patrimonial relationships with men (Nilan and Demartoto 2012 ). Boys compete and strive for recognition from their seniors, for the right to legitimately claim identity membership of the powerful and respected group to which they aspire. Those for whom the warrior/hero paradigm is most attractive can experience intense pleasure when that full identity recognition is attained in the moment of battle, in heroic deeds and self- sacrifi ce for the greater cause of defending territory and honor. However, this is rarely a permanent identity. As the boy matures, he starts to approximate a more refi ned and family oriented masculine subjectivity, and this construction of self also refers to Indonesian cultural icons of exalted masculinity, especially the benevolent yet autocratic father fi gure—bapak. 82 P. Nilan et al.

As Horrocks argues, male myths and icons are central to both the imagined and the physical masculine self, and this chapter has demonstrated that point for young men in the non-western context of Java. The lads’ youthful warrior masculinities would seem to reference not only heroic stories of the Hindu-Buddhist Golden Age but the twentieth-century struggle for independence from colonial control and contemporary tropes of the Muslim ﬁ ghter. In all the sources, the sweet victory of the warrior is achieved only after torment and denial. This is a youthful masculine identity formed at the intensely engaged nexus of pleasure and pain.

Notes

1. Funded by an Australian Development Award (AusAID). See www.newcastle.edu.au/school/ hss/research/research-grants/masculinities-and-violence.html. 2. Bahasa Indonesia. 3 . Pencak silat comprises hand-to-hand ﬁ ghting moves, dance, religious learning, mysticism, and rules of personal conduct. Young men learn the art intensively from an older, experienced practitioner. The ofﬁ cial version of pencak silat is recognized as a competitive sport. 4. The link between practices such as pencak silat and Islam is often questioned by modernist Muslims in Indonesia who view it negatively as evidence of syncretism and mysticism.

References

Adian, D. G. (2001). Feminis laki-laki sebagai seni pengambilan jarak. In G. Arivia & N. I. Subono (Eds.), Feminis laki-laki: Solusi atau persoalan (pp. 32–41). Jakarta: Penerbit Yayasan Jurnal Perempuan. Anderson, B. (1965). Mythology and the tolerance of the Javanese . Ithaca: Cornell University Press. Barendregt, B. (1995). “Written by the hand of Allah”: Pencak silat of Minangkabau, West Sumatra. In W. van Zanten & M. Van Roon (Eds.), Oideion: The performing arts world-wide 2 (pp. 113–130). Leiden: Research School CNWS. Berg, S. (2006). Snowball sampling. In S. Kotz, C. B. Read, N. Balakrishnan, & B. Vidakovic (Eds.), Encyclopedia of statistical science (2nd ed., Vol. 12, pp. 7817–7821). Hoboken: Wiley. Bertrand, J. (2010). The double-edged sword of autonomy in Indonesia and the Philippines. In J. Bertrand & A. Laliberté (Eds.), Multination states in Asia: Accommodation or resistance? (pp. 164–195). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Blackwood, E. (2007). Regulation of sexuality in Indonesian discourse. Culture, Health & Sexuality, 9 (3), 293–307. Boellstorff, T. (2004). The emergence of political homophobia in Indonesia: Masculinity and national belonging. Ethnos, 69 (4), 465–486. Boellstorff, T. (2005). The gay archipelago: Sexuality and nation in Indonesia . Princeton: Princeton University Press. Brenner, S. (1995). Why women rule the roost: Rethinking Javanese ideologies of gender and self- control. In A. Ong & M. Peletz (Eds.), Bewitching women, pious men: Gender and body politics in Southeast Asia (pp. 19–50). Berkeley: University of California Press. Clark, M. (2004). Men, masculinities and symbolic violence in recent Indonesian cinema. Journal of Southeast Asian Studies, 35 (1), 113–131. Youthful Warrior Masculinities in Indonesia 83

Clark, M. (2010). Maskulinitas: Culture, gender and politics in Indonesia . Melbourne: Monash University Press. Colombijn, F. (2005). A cultural practice of violence in Indonesia: Lessons from history. In D. F. Anwar, H. Bouvier, G. Smith, & R. Tol (Eds.), Violent internal confl icts in Asia Pacifi c: Histories, political economies and politics (pp. 245–268). Jakarta: Yayasan Obor. Connell, R. (1990). An iron man: The body and some contradictions of hegemonic masculinity. In M. A. Messner & D. F. Sabo (Eds.), Sport, men and the gender order (pp. 83–95). Champaign: Human Kinetics. Elmhirst, R. (2007). Tigers and gangsters: Masculinities and feminised migration in Indonesia. Population, Space and Place, 13 (3), 225–238. Farrer, D. (2009). Shadows of the Prophet: Martial arts and Sufi mysticism . New York: Springer. Ford, M., & Lyons, L. (2012). Introduction. In M. Ford & L. Lyons (Eds.), Men and masculinities in Southeast Asia (pp. 1–19). New York: Routledge. Gelfer, J. (2011). The masculinity conspiracy . Charleston: CreateSpace. Grahame, S. (2002). Sex, gender and priests in South Sulawesi, Indonesia. IIAS Newsletter, 27, 27. Harjito. (2002). Antara kekerasan dan maskulinitas “Enam Jahanam” karya Indra Traggono. Humaniora, 14 (2), 211–219. Honneth, A. (1997). The struggle for recognition: The moral grammar of social confl icts . London: Polity Press. Horrocks, R. (1995). Male myths and icons: Masculinity in popular culture . Basingstoke: Macmillan. Kadir, H. (2012). School gangs of Yogyakarta: Mass fi ghting strategies and masculine charisma in the city of students. Asia Pacifi c Journal of Anthropology, 13 (4), 352–365. Ling, L. H. M. (1999). Sex machine: Global hypermasculinity and images of the Asian woman in modernity. Positions, 7 (2), 277–306. Messerschmidt, J. (1993). Masculinities and crime: Critique and reconceptualization of theory . New York: Rowman & Littlefi eld. Nilan, P., & Demartoto, A. (2012). Patriarchal residues in Indonesia: Respect accorded senior men by junior men. European Journal of Social Sciences, 31 (2), 279–293. Nilan, P., Donaldson, M., & Howson, R. (2009). Indonesian muslim masculinities in Australia. In M. Donaldson, R. Hibbins, R. Howson, & B. Pease (Eds.), Migrant men: Critical studies of masculinities and the migration experience (pp. 172–189). London: Routledge. Nilan, P., Demartoto, A., & Wibowo, A. (2011). Young men and peer fi ghting in Solo, Indonesia. Men and Masculinities, 14 (4), 470–490. O ’Reilly, D. (2007). Early civilisations of Southeast Asia . Plymouth: AltaMira Press. Oetomo, D. (2000). Masculinity in Indonesia: Genders, sexualities and identities in a changing society. In R. Parker, R. M. Barbosa, & P. Aggleton (Eds.), Framing the sexual subject: The politics of gender, sexuality and power (pp. 46–59). Berkeley: University of California Press. Peletz, M. (1995). Neither reasonable nor responsible: Contrasting representations of masculinity in a Malay society. In A. Ong & M. Peletz (Eds.), Bewitching women, pious men: Gender and body politics in Southeast Asia (pp. 76–123). Berkeley: University of California Press. Peletz, M. (2009). Gender pluralism: Southeast Asia since early modern times . New York: Routledge. Poynting, S. (2007). Protest masculinities. In M. Flood, J. Kegan, J. Gardiner, B. Pease, & K. Pringle (Eds.), Encyclopedia of men and masculinities (p. 511). London: Routledge. Sarwono, S. W. (2004). Violence in Indonesia. In L. Adler & F. Denmark (Eds.), International perspectives on violence (pp. 95–110). Westport: Praeger. Silverman, D. (2006). Interpreting qualitative data . London: Sage. Sunardi, C. (2009). Pushing at the boundaries of the body: Cultural politics and cross-gender dance in East Java. Bijdragen tot de Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde, 165 (4), 459–492. Van Bruinessen, M. (1995). Shari’a court, tarikat and pesantren: Religious institutions in the Banten Sultanate. Archipel, 50 (1), 165–200. 84 P. Nilan et al.

Van Wichelen, S. (2009). Polygamy talk and the politics of feminism: Contestations over masculinity in a new Muslim Indonesia. Journal of International Women’s Studies, 11 (1), 173–188. Weintraub, A. (2004). Power plays: Wayang Golek puppet theater of West Java. Singapore: ISEAS Press. Wieringa, S. (1999). Desiring bodies or deﬁ ant cultures? Butch-femme lesbians in Jakarta and Lima. In S. Wieringa & E. Blackwood (Eds.), Female desires: Same-sex relations and transgender practices across cultures (pp. 206–229). New York: Columbia University Press. Wilson, I. (2002). The politics of power: The practice of Pencak Silat in West Java. Unpublished Ph.D. thesis, Asian Studies, Murdoch University, Western Australia. Wilson, L. (2011). Beyond the exemplary centre: Knowledge, power and sovereign bodies in Java. The Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute, 17 (2), 301–317. Wilson, I. (2012). The biggest cock: Territoriality, invulnerability and honour amongst Jakarta’s Gangsters. In M. Ford & L. Lyons (Eds.), Men and masculinities in Southeast Asia (pp. 121– 138). London: Routledge. Men of Honor: Examining Individual Differences in Masculine Honor Beliefs

Donald A. Saucier and Jessica L. McManus

The purpose of this chapter is to discuss our ongoing research examining how individual differences in masculine honor beliefs are related to how men and women perceive the behavior of men. We deﬁ ne and measure masculine honor beliefs using the research founded in the culture of honor in the American South, where honor is rooted in the belief that it is a man’s responsibility to protect his manhood, family, community, and property against threat and insult, using aggressive and even violent means if necessary. We contend that masculine honor beliefs contribute to the identities of men broadly (i.e., beyond those living in the American South), and we predict that masculine honor beliefs are associated with how men are perceived in and behave across a variety of social situations.

Being a Man: Honor and Masculine Identity

It takes more than being male to be a “man.” Being a “man” includes fulﬁ lling the norms and expectations of the masculine gender role. Central to this masculine gender role, for many men worldwide, is the notion of honor. Honor binds, dictating the connections that people have to each other, providing explication and regulation of behavior through the socialization and internalization of a speciﬁ ed code of conduct. Honor is more than a mere set of beliefs. Honor comprises a set of founda- tional values that are both prescriptive and proscriptive, indicating both what one should do and what one should not do. Honor is a socially constructed and agreed upon notion about how people, but in particular men, should think, feel, and act.

D. A. Saucier (*) • J. L. McManus Department of Psychology , Kansas State University , 468 Bluemont Hall , Manhattan , KS 66506-5302 , US e-mail: [email protected]; [email protected]; [email protected]

J. Gelfer (ed.), Masculinities in a Global Era, International and Cultural Psychology 4, 85 DOI 10.1007/978-1-4614-6931-5_5, © Springer Science+Business Media New York 2014 86 D.A. Saucier and J.L. McManus

Honor is, in essence, a formula for how individuals should live their lives, striving toward and exemplifying standards of being that raise them up according to their own personal, as well as society’s, standards. Honor compels strict adherence to established standards of conduct and exacts severe consequences if those standards are not achieved or maintained. The sever- ity of those consequences, for example, is indicated graphically by mottos used by military units and motorcycle gangs like “Death before Dishonor” and chillingly exemplifi ed in the act of seppuku, a form of ritualistic suicide by which Japanese samurai disemboweled themselves to maintain or restore their honor. Honor has inspired military units throughout history to fi ght opposing forces of much larger sizes and strengths despite there being little or no chance of either winning or surviving. Honor has compelled individuals to risk and lose their lives in attempts to rescue and protect others, even when the others could not be saved. These efforts are sometimes commemorated and immortalized, such as in the recounting of the stand of 300 Spartan soldiers against the exponentially larger Persian army at the Battle of Thermopylae or in the recognition of the efforts of police and fi refi ghters who responded to terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center on 9/11 with displays of “NYPD” and “FDNY.” These examples, stories, and symbols remind us of the standards and costs of honor. And, to varying degrees, these standards and costs of honor are necessary components of the normative identity that one accepts as part of being a man. Our purpose in this chapter is to discuss the consequences of men incorporating the elements of masculine honor beliefs into their identities on their subsequent attitudes and behaviors across various social domains.

The Culture of Honor in the American South

Cultures of honor exist all over the world (Figueredo et al. 2004 ; Rodriquez Mosquera et al. 2002a ), but the culture of honor that is arguably most targeted by research resides in the American South. Nisbett (1993 ) argued that a regional cultural difference was the best explanation for differences in the levels of aggression and violence demonstrated by men from the American South versus North (c.f., Chu et al. 2000 ). A series of seminal studies demonstrated that men from the American South responded to insults more aggressively than men from the American North at cognitive, affective, behavioral, and even physiological levels, (Cohen et al. 1996 ). Nisbett (1993 ) argued that Southern men are taught that they must create and maintain reputations that will make them less vulnerable to future threats. They are socialized to believe that they should demonstrate their unwillingness to tolerate any threat or insult by responding aggressively to deter future threats. It is these beliefs that are central to the deﬁ nition of masculine honor and identity in the American South. Under this belief system, a man is someone who aggressively defends his reputation, manhood, property, and family. Failing to do so is inconsis- tent with being a man (Cohen et al. 1998 ). Thus, the culture of honor in the American Men of Honor: Examining Individual Differences in Masculine Honor Beliefs 87

South provides clear rules for the regulation of male behavior, socializing boys and men to adhere to and enforce these rules not only for themselves but also for other men (Cohen et al. 1999 ). The Southern culture of honor appears to lead men to understand, tolerate, and expect even extreme forms of aggression to be used to punish and retaliate against threats to honor (Cohen and Nisbett 1994 , 1997 ). It may also lead men to form and maintain close connections to their families and communities (Cohen 1998 ) whom they believe they must also defend against potential threats and insults (Cohen and Nisbett 1994 ). These expectations embedded in the identity of boys and men may manifest in such domains as increased levels of violence in schools in response to the perceptions of identity threats (Brown et al. 2009 ) and in increased rates of suicide in lieu of using other ways to cope with failure or threats to one’s reputation (Osterman and Brown 2011). Thus, the Southern culture of honor provides clear and global notions of what it means to be (in terms of a man’s identity) and act like (in terms of a man’s behavior) a man.

The Components of Masculine Honor as Rules for the Regulation of Behavior in Men

The American South specifi es several expectations for honorable male behavior which may ultimately infl uence the formation of normative male identity. Based on the research by Cohen and Nisbett on the Southern culture of honor (Cohen 1998 ; Cohen and Nisbett 1997 ; Cohen et al. 1996 ; Cohen et al. 1998 ; Nisbett 1993 ), we identifi ed seven components that underlie masculine honor. These components are broadly represented in the beliefs in masculine honor possessed in the American South. Together, the components of masculine honor highlight the responsibility that men have to protect themselves, their reputations, their property, their families, and their communities from insults and threats. These components thus represent the internalized beliefs that comprise the manifestation of masculine honor in the identities of men in the American South. The fi rst component we identifi ed was “masculine courage” that encompasses characteristics that men must possess that allow them to face threats unfl inchingly. These characteristics include their ability to face danger and withstand pain, to have courage and bravery, and to never back down in the face of a fi ght. The second component we identifi ed was “pride in manhood” that commits the man to his masculinity. This means that a man sees the necessity for him to embrace the responsibilities of being a man and perceive anyone’s questioning of his manhood as threatening. The third component we identifi ed was “socialization of honor” that encompasses the beliefs that men should be taught the core beliefs of honor as boys. This would include teaching boys to defend themselves, to stand up to bullies, and to protect his sister and other girls. The fourth component we identifi ed was “virtue of honor” that encompasses the belief that the demonstration of masculine honor is a feature of the man’s morality. As such, there is recognition that masculine honor is something that is respected and admired in 88 D.A. Saucier and J.L. McManus men. The fi fth component we identifi ed was “protection of others” that encompasses the belief that men of honor protect others in addition to protecting themselves. Specifi cally, masculine honor dictates that men should protect their wives, children, and family from threat and insult. The sixth component that we identifi ed was “perceptions of provocation” that encompasses the belief that a man should perceive insults and other forms of provocation, even those directed not directly at him but at a member of his family (e.g., his wife or mother), as personal attacks on the man’s own masculinity. As a consequence, his response to that provocation is required to protect his own masculinity. The seventh component that we identifi ed was “family and community bonds” that encompasses the belief that an honorable man is one who respects and is connected and loyal to his family and community. Together, these seven components provide a comprehensive organization for the various but related aspects that comprise masculine honor according to the research on the culture of honor in the American South. The socialization and subsequent adherence to the components of masculine honor provide meaningful guidelines for normative appropriate and inappropriate male behavior. The appropriate responses to specifi c situations are defi ned so that men know what they should do to behave honorably. It also lets men know what they should expect from other honorable men. Further, the beliefs and values contained in masculine honor let men know how they may respond to other men who fail to adhere to the code of honor. In sum- mary, the honorable man is one who learned as a boy to be courageous, proudly masculine, and virtuous; to perceive provocation to himself, his family, or his community (to all whom he is loyally committed) as threatening; and to respond defen- sively and protectively when he perceives threat.

Individual Differences in Masculine Honor Beliefs

While it has been repeatedly demonstrated that men in the American South adhere to and demonstrate masculine honor beliefs more than men do in other regions of the United States, we believed that there would be variability within men’s beliefs in the components of masculine honor regardless of their region of socialization. That is, men may be higher or lower in their masculine honor beliefs whether or not they grew up in the American South. Using the components of masculine honor from the American South, we created a measure of masculine honor beliefs as an individual difference variable. We are not the only researchers to pursue the study of masculine honor beliefs as an individual difference variable. Notably, Rodriquez Mosquera et al. (2002b ) measured both honor concerns and threats to honor in Dutch and Spanish samples. They argued that individuals’ levels of honor adherence can be determined by the emotional reactions they report when their honor is threatened by insults. Accordingly, participants report how much they are concerned with committing some behavior or acquiring some reputation that would jeopardize their honor and how much anger and shame they would feel in response to some insult to their honor. But Rodriquez Men of Honor: Examining Individual Differences in Masculine Honor Beliefs 89

Mosquera et al. used a broader conceptualization of honor designed for their Dutch and Spanish samples that included not only masculine honor but also feminine honor, family honor, and integrity. Consequently, the items that assessed masculine honor may have tapped elements of honor that we believe may be more related to general masculinity (e.g., having sexual experience, being able to father children) than to the notions of masculine honor experienced in the American South. Other researchers have examined individual differences in honor beliefs based on the conceptualization of honor beliefs in the Southern culture of honor (Barnes et al. 2012; Vandello et al. 2009). But we argue that these measures may not capture the theoretical breadth of masculine honor beliefs that comprise male identity in the American South. Possibly being too general in their approach, Vandello et al. (2009 ) were challenged by Barnes et al. (2012 ) for “blending” the conceptualizations of masculine and feminine honor in their measurement strategy (p. 1021). Meanwhile, in being more specifi c Barnes et al. (2012 ) focused their own measure on masculine honor beliefs but did so only by assessing two domains: the justifi ability of physical aggression for men to defend themselves and their reputations in various situations, and the “defi ning qualities of ‘real men,’ such as self-suffi ciency, pugnacity, and physical toughness” (p. 1021). While these measures are interesting as assessments of honor beliefs, we believed that it was important to assess masculine honor beliefs specifi cally and comprehensively using the seven components we identifi ed as underlying masculine honor beliefs of the American South.

Creation and Initial Validation of the Masculine Honor Beliefs Scale

To create our measure, we initially administered the items that comprise the Masculine Honor Beliefs Scale (MHBS; Saucier et al. in preparation ) to over 800 undergraduate students. These items were constructed to assess the seven factors of honor that we previously described, and were written so that both men and women would respond according to what they thought was the necessary and desirable response for men. That is, participants reported their levels of agreement for how important it is that men exhibit each of the honorable characteristics. They did not report their own self-perceived achievement of those honorable characteristics. Thus, we could both assess how much men believed the honorable characteristics were important in comprising their own identities and how much women believed that the honorable characteristics were important in comprising the identities of men. What we produced was a set of subscales, each of which assessed one of the seven factors of honor with fi ve items. These seven subscales include Masculine Courage (e.g., It is very important for a man to act bravely), Pride in Manhood (e.g., It is important for a man to be more masculine than other men ), Socialization (e.g., You would want your son to stand up to bullies ), Virtue (e.g., It is morally wrong for a man to walk away from a fi ght), Protection (e.g., It is a man’s responsibility to protect his family), Provocation (e.g., If a man is insulted, his manhood is 90 D.A. Saucier and J.L. McManus insulted), and Family and Community Bonds (e.g., A man’s family should be his number one priority ). The total scale consisted of 35 items that demonstrated excellent internal consistency, as well as excellent test-retest reliability (over a 4-week period), while assessing the range of factors that we theorized to comprise masculine honor beliefs. We compared the responses of the men and women, fi nding that the men reported signifi cantly higher scores on the MHBS overall as well as on all but one of the subscales representing the seven individual honor factors. That the men would score higher on reported beliefs in masculine honor is not surprising because it is likely that men are exposed to the expectations that accompany being a man more explicitly and frequently than women. Women scored higher on the Family and Community masculine honor subscale, indicating that they believed that it was more important that men maintain strong bonds with their family and community than did men. Especially given that the overall concept of masculine honor includes the requirement that men provide for and protect their families and communities, it makes sense that women would be higher on this factor. Women who believe that men should adhere more to the components of masculine honor would be more likely to perceive themselves as relatively dependent on men for support and protection and accordingly may be motivated to impress that expectation onto men. Scores on the MHBS were, consistent with predictions, positively correlated with trait aggression (Buss and Perry 1992 ). Given that we argue that a central notion of masculine honor is the belief that aggression is sometimes both justifi able and necessary, we expected and found that more adherence to beliefs in masculine honor was associated with a greater predisposition to be interpersonally aggressive. Further, and also consistent with predictions, we found that scores on the MHBS were positively correlated with benevolent sexism toward women (Glick and Fiske 1996 ). Benevolent sexism refers to an orientation toward women driven by generally positive and warm feelings toward women that are based on the stereotypic perceptions that women should be taken care of and protected. We believe that masculine honor contains the explicit notion that men should protect their families, especially the female members for whom there is less of an expectation that they would defend themselves, and this fi nding is consistent with that conceptualization. In essence, honorable men take care of women because of the belief they cannot and should not have to take care of themselves. Thus, we successfully created a measure of masculine honor beliefs in the MHBS that could be completed by both men and women to assess their beliefs in the seven factors we identifi ed as comprising masculine honor. The MHBS demonstrated excellent internal consistency and stability as well as theoretically important sex differences and relationships with trait aggression and benevolent sexism. Further, scores on the MHBS were not confounded by scores on social desirability (Crowne and Marlowe 1964 ). To further demonstrate the utility of the MHBS, we designed several studies to assess its ability to predict a range of attitudes and behaviors. The behavior of men is regulated in many domains, and what they may or may not do, either by themselves or with others, is therefore governed by the rules they have internalized. We believe that masculine honor beliefs are carried by Men of Honor: Examining Individual Differences in Masculine Honor Beliefs 91 men (and women) from domain to domain wherein they infl uence how men regulate their own behaviors and the behaviors of other men. We specifi cally assessed the ability for levels of adherence to masculine honor beliefs to predict responses to (a) provocation, (b) participation and actions in sports, (c) attitudes toward issues related to war and national security, and (d) punishment of other men who have behaved dishonorably. We chose these domains because each consists of situations in which there are rules for their behavior and for the behavior of other men. Therefore, we predicted that scores on the MHBS would be associated with responses that enforce the rules dictated by masculine honor so that generally higher scores on the MHBS would be associated with more aggressive responses to provocation, more participation in individual contact sports. more support for international militaristic aggression and restrictive control of domestic threats to national security, and harsher punishments for men who have behaved dishonorably by committing rape against women. It was our intention to show that our measure of masculine honor beliefs as an individual difference is a signifi cant and important predictor of male regulation of behavior across contexts.

Masculine Honor Beliefs and Responses to Provocation

Possibly the most salient way in which masculine honor beliefs may regulate the behavior of men is by the way in which masculine honor beliefs dictate perceptions and reactions toward provocation. Thus, masculine honor beliefs may infl uence how provocative the behavior of other men may be perceived and then how it may be appropriate, or even necessary, to respond to that provocation. To assess the ability of the MHBS to predict the responses that individuals believed that men should enact when faced with provocation by other men, we created two sets of vignettes. One set of vignettes described situations in which a male character was confronted with an act that would be perceived as a violation of masculine honor. These included provocations that consisted of insults to their manhood, their family, or their female romantic partners. The other set of vignettes consisted of situations in which the male character was described as being confronted with some provocation, but the provocation was not clearly a violation of masculine honor (i.e., did not directly insult their manhood, family, or female romantic partners). For each vignette, participants indicated which of four responses they believed the male character should enact. These responses were written so that they indicated increasing amounts of aggression in the response, such as from ignoring the offense made by the antagonist to fi ghting the antagonist (Barlett et al. 2007 ). Our results showed that higher scores on the MHBS were associated with support for more aggressive responses toward the provocations in general but also in response to the provocations in the form of honor violations in particular. That is, participants who reported more adherence to masculine honor beliefs reported that the male character in the vignettes should respond to any provocation more aggressively, but especially when the provocation consisted of insults to their manhood, 92 D.A. Saucier and J.L. McManus family, or romantic partners. These results emerged despite our controlling for the participants’ sex and levels of trait aggression, suggesting that the MHBS demonstrated good predictive incremental validity in the prediction of the perception that aggressive responses to provocation are appropriate and necessary. We further examined the ability of the MHBS to predict emotional responses to honor violations. We administered the MHBS to male participants along with the measures created by Rodriquez Mosquera et al. (2002b ) to measure honor concerns and threats to honor. The honor concerns measure assessed how damaging it would be to the participants’ self-concept if they were to commit a specifi ed dishonorable action or acquire a specifi c dishonorable reputation in the domains of masculine and family honor. The threats to honor measure further assessed how the participants would experience the emotions of anger and shame in response to threats to their masculine and family honor. Men’s scores on the MHBS were positively associated with their responses on the honor concerns and threats to honor measures. Greater levels of adherence to masculine honor beliefs were associated with more reported damage to their self-concepts from dishonorable actions and reputations in the domains of both masculine and family honor and with more reported experience of anger and shame in response to threats to masculine and family honor. Importantly, the men’s MHBS scores predicted their scores on the measures of threats to honor even after controlling for their scores on the measure of honor concerns. That is, men’s adherence to masculine honor beliefs as measured by the MHBS predicted their emotional reactions to honor violations above and beyond the extent to which they reported honor concerns on the Rodriquez Mosquera et al. (2002b ) measure, demonstrating again the predictive and incremental validity of the MHBS.

Masculine Honor Beliefs and Participation and Surrender in Sports

We next examined the relationships between adherence to masculine honor beliefs and men’s participation in sports, as well as their perception of acceptable behavior, specifi cally surrendering, in athletic contests. Sports are a male-dominated arena (Eitzen and Sage 1993 ; Synder and Spreitzer 1978 ). While there have been several advances in sports participation by girls and women in the United States, boys and men comprise the majority of sports competitors. Further, the sports that men and boys play often contain a greater degree of physical contact and allow for more physically assertive and aggressive behavior that may allow for the demonstration of masculinity (Alley and Hicks 2005 ). We predicted that men with greater masculine honor beliefs would be more likely to have experienced having played sports that have components of physicality to them. Sports may have developed as a socialization agent for boys growing up to become men, perhaps with the purpose to prepare them for interpersonal confl ict as adults. Ideals like sportsmanship dictate appropriate behavior in the sporting Men of Honor: Examining Individual Differences in Masculine Honor Beliefs 93 domain. Various sports have “unwritten rules” about proper conduct on the fi eld and toward opponents. These rules may extend to include the extent to which physical aggression is acceptable and surrender is not. We conducted a study to examine how men’s adherence to masculine honor beliefs would be associated with their perceptions of and participation in various sports (Saucier et al. in preparation). We had male participants complete the MHBS along with measures of their trait aggression (Buss and Perry 1992 ), masculinity and femininity (Bem 1974 ), and social desirability (Crowne and Marlowe 1964 ). Participants also completed items to assess their participation in various sports. Further, participants read descriptions of situations in which a male athlete “gave up” during athletic events. In half of these situations, the athlete was motivated to give up for a longer-term benefi t of the team despite the shorter-term detriment (e.g., a running back running out of bounds rather than gaining more yards to stop the clock in a football game). In the other situations, the athlete was motivated to give up by his own desire for self-preservation (e.g., the running back running out of bounds to avoid being hit). Participants reported how appropriate the athlete’s “surrender” was in each of the athletic events. We predicted that as men’s adherence to masculine honor beliefs increased, they would be more likely to have participated in male-dominated sports that allow physical contact among players and would be less likely to report that surrender in sports is appropriate, especially when it was motivated by concerns about one’s own personal safety. Our results supported our hypotheses. As men reported higher scores on the MHBS, they reported more participation in male-dominated contact sports in which athletes compete as individuals, including boxing and wrestling. Higher scores on the MHBS were also associated with more reported participation in weightlifting, suggesting that men with more adherence to masculine honor beliefs have more participation in various athletic events in which the focus is on their individual levels of interpersonal strength and power. Further, higher scores on the MHBS were associated with more participation in golf. While golf is obviously not a sport in which physical contact is allowed or in which the characteristics of individual strength and power are as salient, golf is a sport in which the players govern themselves. Golfers agree to adhere to a set of rules to regulate their play, and the integrity of the competition dissolves if the players do not abide by these rules. It therefore follows that men with higher levels of masculine honor may be drawn to or be comfortable in a sport that places such emphasis on internal regulation of fair play. Interestingly, higher scores on the MHBS were not associated with greater participation in team contact sports, including (American) football and hockey, counter to our expectations. Participation in football and hockey was associated with higher scores on the masculinity measure. We speculate that it may be that football and hockey are team sports, unlike the individual sports for which participation was related to masculine honor beliefs, which are also beliefs and guidelines for individual behavior. Further, men’s scores on the MHBS were associated with their perceptions of a male athlete surrendering in an athletic contest, but only when the athlete’s surrender was motivated by self-preservation. When the surrender was motivated by a 94 D.A. Saucier and J.L. McManus longer-term goal, men’s scores on the MHBS were not associated with their perceptions of the surrender. But when the surrender was motivated by self- preservation, men’s higher scores on the MHBS were associated with ratings that the surrender was less appropriate, with this relationship remaining signifi cant even after controlling for men’s scores on measures of social desirability, trait aggression, masculinity, and femininity. Simply put, masculine honor beliefs allow men to “surrender” in athletic contests only for the purpose of increasing the probability for longer-term gains. But masculine honor beliefs do not allow men to surrender in athletic contests to save themselves. These results suggest the pervasive infl uence of masculine honor beliefs on the regulation of the behavior of men and boys. Sports are not just recreation; rather, they are a training ground on which men and boys may learn, practice, and demonstrate their adherence to the rules of honorable manhood. Given that many sports and athletic activities arguably were designed to prepare men and boys for war, it is then only logical that men’s beliefs in the rules of masculine honor would extend to predict their attitudes in this much more severe domain.

Masculine Honor Beliefs and Attitudes Toward War and Security

At a higher group level, beliefs in masculine honor may dictate how men may control other men through larger aggressive means. These may include how men perceive the appropriateness of military action and war as well as the appropriateness of aggressive tactics intended to protect their country’s security (and by extension, the security of their communities, families, property, and selves) (Barnes et al. 2012 ). Given that the conception of masculine honor includes the beliefs that aggression is sometimes justifi able, particularly in response to provocation and to protect others, we predicted that individuals’ greater beliefs in masculine honor would be associated with more supportive attitudes toward the use of military action and war as well as toward the use of aggressive security tactics (Saucier and McManus in preparation). To test these predictions, we had undergraduate students complete the MHBS and report their attitudes toward the use of war in various situations, toward the justifi ability of military action by the United States against Iraq and Afghanistan, and toward a variety of restrictive policies that may be implemented in the interest of national security. Participants also completed measures of political conservatism, trait aggression (Buss and Perry 1992 ), and social desirability (Crowne and Marlowe 1964 ). We found that participants who scored higher on the MHBS were generally higher in trait aggression and lower in social desirability, but that their scores on the MHBS were not associated with their reported levels of political conservatism. While men were signifi cantly higher on the MHBS and the measure of trait aggression than were women, men and women did not differ signifi cantly on their scores on political conservatism or on the measures of attitudes about the use of war, the Men of Honor: Examining Individual Differences in Masculine Honor Beliefs 95 justifi ability of military action by the United States against Iraq and Afghanistan, or the restrictive security policies (with the exception that men were less likely than were women to support increased gun control legislation). More importantly, we found that participants who scored higher on the MHBS also reported higher levels of support for the use of military action and war for self-serving purposes (i.e., acqui- sition of resources and revenge), self-defense, protection of others, and spreading a system of beliefs or worldview (e.g., democracy). Participants who scored higher on the MHBS also were more likely to support aggressive and restrictive security policies, including those targeted at American citizens (e.g., racial profi ling, domestic spying), immigrants (e.g., increased immigration restrictions), and individuals who pose threats to national security (e.g., detainment, torture, assassination). These relationships emerged after controlling for participants’ sex and their scores on the measures of trait aggression, political conservatism, and social desirability. These results indicate that individuals’ adherence to masculine honor beliefs is associated with their perceptions of militaristic actions in the forms of war and restrictive security policies. Key to our conceptualization of masculine honor beliefs is the belief that aggression is sometimes necessary and justifi able and that the situations that may require aggression include those that contain provocation and threats to the safety of one’s family. In general, this is precisely what our data showed. Individuals higher in masculine honor beliefs did report that war was a more appropriate course of action to achieve several objectives and that aggressive security measures were more appropriate methods of preserving national and interpersonal safety. In essence, those who adhered more to masculine honor beliefs were willing to trade the disadvantages of military aggression for the advantages of reduced threat. This is consistent with the theorizing that the American Southern culture of honor derived from perceived personal vulnerability that may be assuaged by one presenting himself as someone who will not tolerate threat or provocation, instead responding with aggression. Our results suggest that our participants extended this individual behavior to the group, reporting that the United States should protect itself and its citizens by presenting itself as a nation that will not tolerate threat or provocation and will respond with aggression accordingly. This threat of aggression may not only serve to regulate the behavior of individual men but may serve to regulate the collective behavior of nations globally.

Masculine Honor Beliefs and Punishment for the Dishonorable

While masculine honor beliefs may be associated with the regulation of the collective behavior of nations, masculine honor beliefs often are also focused on the regulation of the behavior of individual men. Men higher in masculine honor beliefs adhere more to the regulations put on their behavior by masculine honor beliefs because they have incorporated the beliefs into their identities. Other men lower in masculine honor beliefs may not adhere as much to these regulations or comprise their identities in the same way. Consequently, these men lower in masculine honor 96 D.A. Saucier and J.L. McManus beliefs may behave in ways that violate the tenets for behavior set by masculine honor beliefs, such that their behavior is perceived by others as dishonorable. To demonstrate the inappropriateness of the dishonorable behavior, men who adhere to masculine honor beliefs may support more severe punishments for the perpetrators of dishonorable behavior. Further, the more severe punishments for the dishonorable perpetrators may be used to prevent dishonorable behavior by other men who have seen the potential consequences of dishonorable actions. Given that the protection of women is a key component to masculine honor beliefs, we predicted that individuals with higher levels of masculine honor beliefs would support more severe punishments of male perpetrators of sexual violence against women. Rape is, generally and rightfully, considered a vile and sinister behavior. Unfortunately, rape is also a behavior that is not uncommon. Researchers have estimated that 25 % of American women will be raped during their lifetimes (Fisher et al. 2000 ). Further, some theorists have argued that the prevalence and tolerance of rape in the United States qualifi es it as a “rape culture” (Buchwald et al. 2005 ; Sanday 1981 ; Sanday 2003 ). Given that there is a real possibility that women may be raped, men (and women) may be motivated to believe that it is up to men to protect women from that experience of violence. Even the words sometimes used to describe rape characterize the act of rape as a “violation” or “intrusion,” an insult against the woman and potentially also against the male members of her family. The possibility of rape is therefore a potential motivator for the outward display of honor. For those higher in masculine honor beliefs, they may perceive it to be necessary to make examples of those who commit rape to reduce the possibility that women will be vulnerable to rape, especially when men are not present to protect them. This idea is clearly con- veyed in a country music song “The Coward of the County” by Kenny Rogers. In the song, the protagonist, a man named Tommy, listened to his father’s advice that “you don’t have to fi ght to be a man.” Tommy grew up avoiding fi ghts, earning the reputation of a coward. Presumably because of their lack of respect and fear of what Tommy would do in retaliation, three men gang raped the woman he loved. The song concludes with Tommy confronting and savagely beating the three men, after which he clearly states that “sometimes you gotta fi ght when you’re a man.” The listener is left with the unsubtle message that men should and must use both proactive and reactive violence against perpetrators to protect their female family members from sexual victimization. Rape is rightfully considered a despicable act. So while we expected that individuals in general would support punishments for the perpetrators of rape, we predicted that individuals with higher levels of masculine honor beliefs would support even more aggressive punishments for the perpetrators of rape. Our reasoning was that those who adhere more strongly to masculine honor beliefs would see the act of a man raping a woman as more of a violation of the rules dictated by masculine honor. Really, one of the most feared consequences of dishonor (i.e., the realized threat, provocation, and insult of rape) would have been experienced. The vulnerability that inspires some of the foundation of masculine honor would have been exploited, making further victimization a more realistic possibility. Those who Men of Honor: Examining Individual Differences in Masculine Honor Beliefs 97 adhere more strongly to masculine honor beliefs would want to reduce or eliminate this future possibility by making an example of the rapist. Not only would he be eliminated as a threat, but his fate would serve to deter others from violating the rules of masculine honor. Thus, the punishment of the dishonorable would serve as to regulate the behavior of other potentially dishonorable men. We (Saucier et al. in preparation) examined this prediction by administering the MHBS to men and women and later asking them to allocate funds to different campaigns created to address the crime of rape. The participants were told to divide $1,000; however, they saw fi t between a campaign focused on providing support services to women who have been raped and a campaign focused on promoting efforts to increase the punishments for convicted rapists. Our hypothesis was supported. Participants who reported higher beliefs in masculine honor were more likely to allocate greater dollar amounts to the campaign focused on promoting increased punishment for convicted rapists and lower dollar amounts to the campaign focused on providing support to women who have been raped. The relationships between participants’ scores on the MHBS remained signifi cant after controlling for the sex of the participants, and the sex of the participant did not interact to predict the support for the campaigns. Thus, we concluded that greater levels of adherence to masculine honor beliefs are associated with support for greater punishment for men who have behaved contrary to the tenets of masculine honor. Both men and women who believe more strongly that men should behave consistently with the masculine honor code are more likely to focus their attention on punishing those men who have violated this code, presumably to prevent them from further violating the code but also to make the consequences clear for these violations to other men. By attempting to set a more aggressive institutionalized response to the honor violation of rape, it is likely that the participants higher in their beliefs in masculine honor will have supported a strengthening of the regulation of future male behavior such that rape will be less likely to occur in the future.

Conclusion

Masculine honor, as defi ned in the American South, provides a system of beliefs that, when incorporated into men’s identities, serves to regulate their own behavior. But masculine honor beliefs also provide guidelines for how aggression may be used to regulate the behavior of other men. We have used the Masculine Honor Beliefs Scale (MHBS) to assess the extent to which men (and women) perceive the various components of masculine honor as desirable elements in men’s identities in a way that allows the components of masculine honor to be measured as an individual difference variable that may be more globally administered (i.e., beyond the American South). In addition, we have shown that reported levels of masculine honor beliefs are predictive of the perceptions of behavior in several social domains, including responses to provocation, participation and actions in sports, attitudes 98 D.A. Saucier and J.L. McManus toward issues related to war and national security, and punishment of other men who have behaved dishonorably. We believe that masculine honor beliefs are an important and useful construct in understanding how men defi ne themselves and how they interact with others and hope that our measure facilitates future research on this topic. We have not stated whether or not masculine honor beliefs are desirable or socially benefi cial to have, but we hope that future research will continue to demonstrate the positive and negative impacts of masculine honor beliefs on the behavior of men who adhere to them as fundamental elements of who they are.

References

Alley, T. A., & Hicks, C. M. (2005). Peer attitudes toward adolescent participants in male- and female-oriented sports. Adolescence, 40 , 273–280. Barlett, C. P., Harris, R. J., & Baldassaro, R. (2007). Longer you play, the more hostile you feel: Examination of ﬁ rst person shooter video games and aggression during video game play. Aggressive Behavior, 33 , 486–497. Barnes, C. D., Brown, R. P., & Osterman, L. L. (2012). Don’t tread on me: Masculine honor ideology in the U.S. and militant responses to terrorism. Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin, 38 , 1018–1029. Bem, S. L. (1974). The measurement of psychological androgyny. Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology, 42 , 155–162. Brown, R. P., Osterman, L. L., & Barnes, C. D. (2009). School violence and the culture of honor. Psychological Science, 20 , 1400–1405. Buchwald, E., Fletcher, P. R., & Roth, M. (Eds.). (2005). Transforming a rape culture (2nd ed.). Minneapolis: Milkweed Editions. Buss, A. H., & Perry, M. (1992). The aggression questionnaire. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 63 , 452–459. Chu, R., Rivera, C., & Loftin, C. (2000). Herding and homicide: An examination of the Nisbett- Reaves hypothesis. Social Forces, 78 , 971–987. Cohen, D. (1998). Culture, social organization, and patterns of violence. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 75 , 408–419. Cohen, D., & Nisbett, R. E. (1994). Self-protection and the culture of honor: Explaining Southern violence. Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin, 20 , 551–567. Cohen, D., & Nisbett, R. E. (1997). Field experiments examining the culture of honor: The role of institutions in perpetuating norms of violence. Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin, 23 , 1188–1199. Cohen, D., Nisbett, R. E., Bowdle, B. F., & Schwarz, N. (1996). Insult, aggression, and the Southern culture of honor: An “experimental ethnography”. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 70 , 945–960. Cohen, D., Vandello, J., & Rantilla, A. K. (1998). The sacred and the social: Cultures of honor and violence. In P. Gilbert & B. Andrews (Eds.), Shame: Interpersonal behavior, psychopathology, and culture (pp. 261–282). New York: Oxford University Press. Cohen, D., Vandello, J., Puente, S., & Rantilla, A. (1999). “When you call me that, smile!” How norms for politeness, interaction styles, and aggression work together in Southern culture. Social Psychology Quarterly, 62 , 257–275. Crowne, D. P., & Marlowe, D. (1964). The approval motive: Studies in evaluative dependence . New York: Wiley. Eitzen, D. S., & Sage, G. H. (1993). Sociology of North American sport (5th ed.). Dubuque: W. C. Brown. Men of Honor: Examining Individual Differences in Masculine Honor Beliefs 99

Figueredo, A. J., Tal, I. R., McNeil, P., & Guillen, A. (2004). Farmers, herders, and ﬁ shers: The ecology of revenge. Evolution and Human Behavior, 25 , 336–353. Fisher, B. S., Cullen, F. T., & Turner, M. G. (2000). The sexual victimization of college women . (NCJ Report 182369). Retrieved from the National Criminal Justice Reference Service, Aug 17, 2012, http://www.ncjrs.gov/App/Publications/abstract.aspx?ID=182369. Glick, P., & Fiske, S. T. (1996). The ambivalent sexism inventory: Differentiating hostile and benevolent sexism. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 70 , 491–512. Nisbett, R. E. (1993). Violence and U.S. regional culture. American Psychologist, 48 , 441–449. Osterman, L. L., & Brown, R. P. (2011). Culture of honor and violence against the self. Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin, 37 , 1611–1623. Rodriquez Mosquera, P. M., Manstead, A. S. R., & Fischer, A. H. (2002a). Honour in the Mediterranean and Northern Europe. Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 33 , 16–36. Rodriquez Mosquera, P. M., Manstead, A. S. R., & Fischer, A. H. (2002b). The role of honour in emotional reactions to offences. Cognition and Emotion, 16 , 143–163. Sanday, P. R. (1981). The sociocultural context of rape: A cross-cultural study. Journal of Social Issues, 37 , 5–27. Sanday, P. R. (2003). Rape-free versus rape-prone: How culture makes a difference. In C. B. Travis (Ed.), Evolution, gender and rape (pp. 337–362). Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Saucier, D. A., & McManus, J. L. (in preparation). The relationships between masculine honor beliefs and support for war and aggressive security policies. Saucier, D. A., Burns, M. D., Davis, J., & McManus, J. L. (in preparation). The relationships between masculine honor beliefs and sports participation and perceptions. Saucier, D. A., Stanford, A. J., Miller, A. K., McManus, J. L., & Burns, M. D. (in preparation). Masculine honor beliefs; Measurement and correlates. Saucier, D. A., Strain, M. L., Hockett, J. M., & McManus, J. L. (in preparation). Punishing the dishonorable: Masculine honor beliefs and support for the punishment of rapists. Synder, E. E., & Spreitzer, E. (1978). Social aspects of sport . Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall. Vandello, J. A., Cohen, D., Grandon, R., & Franiuk, R. (2009). Stand by your man: Indirect pre- scriptions for honorable violence and feminine loyalty in Canada, Chile, and the U.S. Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology, 40 , 81–104. “Men Are Hard … Women Are Soft”: Muslim Men and the Construction of Masculine Identity

Asifa Siraj

The past three decades have witnessed signifi cant academic progress in the understanding and theorization of the social construction of masculinity. In Western literature, however, men emerge as a powerful, homogeneous category, and the general, though implicit assumption in social science is that fi ndings obtained with White samples refl ect “dominant theories, perspectives, and ideologies are generalizable to the population as a whole” (Mirandé 1997 , p. 28). Outside the boundaries of current research is an exploration of masculinity from a religious perspective, which has received a cursory glance in sociological literature (Ouzgane 2003 ). A Muslim perspective merits serious academic attention, as to date a voluminous amount of literature has been accumulated on the subject of “women in Islam” (Roald 2001 ; Al-Jibaly 2000 ; Wadud 1999 ; Al-Khattab 1997 ; Schleifer 1996 ; Doi 1989 ), suggesting that gender is a term that refers only to women. The dearth of literature on Muslim men is due partly because of their depiction as non-gendered beings, that is, they are “shown but not said, visible but not questioned . . . implicitly talked of, yet rarely talked of explicitly” (Hearn 1996 , p. 782). Thus, scholarship on Muslim men needs to be broadened to include discussion on masculinity based and negotiated through religion, given that studies have consistently shown that a high number of Muslims report that religion is “very important” to them (Modood et al. 1997 , p. 301). It is my assertion that in order to understand Muslim men’s masculine identities there needs to be a greater recognition of religion as an infl uential aspect in the construction of masculine identity.

A. Siraj (*) Weeks Centre, Dept. of Arts and Human Sciences , London South Bank University , 103 Borough Road , London SE1 OAA , UK e-mail: [email protected]

J. Gelfer (ed.), Masculinities in a Global Era, International and Cultural Psychology 4, 101 DOI 10.1007/978-1-4614-6931-5_6, © Springer Science+Business Media New York 2014 102 A. Siraj

Islamic Masculinities

Masculinity is not a monolithic experience collectively shared by all men; men diverge in terms of their religion, class, country of origin, ethnicity, and race, and inevitably, their masculine identities are shaped by political, religious, cultural, and economic factors. Research exploring the relationship between masculinities and religion, however, is lacking (Nilan et al. 2007 ), and in the context of Muslim men and Islam, much of the literature over the last three decades has been “written and read with Muslim men as an unmarked category” (Ouzgane 2006 , p. 6). In parts of the Muslim world, especially the Middle East, men and masculinity are still almost non-existing research areas (Okkenhaug and Flaskerud 2005 , p. 2). As Ouzgane reminds us, “dominant masculinity in Islamic cultures has so far remained an unrecognised category that maintains its power by refusing to identify itself” (Ouzgane 1997 , pp. 1–2). In relation to masculinities, Muslim men have been “naturalized as violent, sub- sumed by discourses of terrorism, patriarchal backwards cultures, and religious fanaticism” (Murthy 2010 , p. 5). Muslim men’s masculine identities are diverse and multifaceted, and indeed, in recent years, the term Islamic masculinities serves to refl ect that Muslim “men are not born; they are made; they construct their masculinities within particular social and historical contexts” (Ouzgane 2003 , p. 232). The construction of Muslim men’s masculinity has come under increasing academic interest, and a number of studies have not only illuminated the diverse context in which Muslim men construct their masculine identities but disentangled the relationship between religion, ethnicity, and masculinity (Macey 1999 ; Archer 2003 ; Hopkins 2006 ). Samad (1998 ), in his research with young Muslim men in Bradford, exposes the way Muslim men used their religion to construct their masculinity despite possessing very little knowledge about Islam. Samad observes that for the men, it was all about being “hard” and being defi ant refl ected in their support of homophobia, anti-Semitism, and misogynist groups. Similarly, Macey’s ( 1999 ) study on Pakistani Muslim men in Bradford indicates the way the men use Islam as a powerful resource to justify violence but also control women (Macey 1999 , p. 846). Macey’s participants were especially concerned about controlling the freedom of young Muslim women by emphasizing the importance of dress, marriage, and upholding appropriate gender roles (Macey 1999 , p. 844). Archer’s ( 2001) study, based on interviews with 24 young Muslim men aged 14–15 in the North of England, suggests that Muslim boys construct “locally” hegemonic masculine identities by associating Muslim masculinity with power, privilege, “being the boss, hardness and hyper-heterosexuality” (Archer 2001 , p. 86). Masculinity is achieved through the positioning of the self but also through others (especially women). Hopkins’ ( 2006) research on young Muslim Pakistani men in Scotland found that the men positioned women within the home, and while they advocated that Islam perceives men and women as equals, they embraced “contradictory masculine subject positions”; that is, they simultaneously maintained “that men and women are equal in Islam whilst advocating sexist stereotypes about their expectations of Muslim women” (Hopkins 2006 , p. 341). The fi ndings of these research studies delineate the way Muslim men and boys construct and negotiate their masculine identities. They “Men Are Hard … Women Are Soft”: Muslim Men and the Construction… 103 further reveal the way religious discourse is employed to support, maintain, and assert a range of dominant masculinities. Moreover, despite being part of a racial, ethnic, and religious minority, the men legitimate their masculinity through the subordination of women as it safeguards their dominant masculine position. In their examination of the construction of religious masculinities among Muslim adolescent males, from an independent British Islamic school, Farooq and Parker’s (2009 ) study traces the way religion is employed to shape the pupils perceptions of the self. The Qur’an and hadith served as a guide for pupils to construct Muslim masculinities, from disciplining their emotions, shaping their relationships with others to being rational in their action and behavior. The study reveals how their participants’ reject stereotypical masculine qualities of aggression and violence in favor of rationality, unity, and self-discipline (Farooq and Parker 2009 , p. 291). Men’s role within the family is also instrumental in shaping masculinity but also in maintaining their privilege as men. Muslim men construct hegemonic masculinity, that is, “the maintenance of practices that institutionalise men’s dominance over women” (Connell 1987 , p. 185), through their role as the breadwinner and the family head, which grants them authority, power, and status. In her interviews with 25 married Muslim couples in Scotland, Siraj ( 2010 ) examined how the hierarchical relationship between the husband and wife allowed the men to maintain hegemonic masculinity through their role as the breadwinner and the family head. Siraj concludes by stating that the marital institution and patriarchal social relations permit Muslim men to manage, maintain, and consolidate hegemonic masculinity (Siraj 2010 , p. 212). The construction of masculinity is dependent upon social, cultural, economic, and environmental factors. Therefore, it is important to acknowledge that masculine identities “vary in men . . . men make themselves, actively constructing their masculinities within a social and historical context” (Kimmel and Aronson 2004 , p. xxiii). The political and social context should not be overlooked in shaping men’s masculine identities. In Iran for instance, Gerami (2003 ) describes how the Islamic revolution reformulated gender discourse around Islamic hypermasculinity, promoting and glorifying three masculinity types: “the mullahs became the leaders of revolution, martyrs its soul, and men its benefi ciaries” (Gerami 2003 , p. 264). Men’s relationship with women, as well as their control and dominance over them, is equally important in certain contexts, in shaping their masculinity. In interviews with Turkish men from various social backgrounds in an Ankara municipality, Goksel (2006 ) explored how men’s preoccupation with women’s virginity and virginity examinations was a site for the production of masculinities. An overwhelming number of Goksel’s participants spoke about men’s honor and trust being achieved through their ability in protecting women from harm. They explained that because women remained in a constant state of vulnerability to male sexual advances, it was their duty to protect female members of their family. Consequently, the men equated honor with their ability or inability to protect women. Indeed, “responsibility and honour were used synonymously, and determined a man’s reputation, respectability, and dignity in Turkish society” (Goksel 2006 , pp. 56–57). The study illustrates the way men’s lives are intimately embedded in the female, that is, women defi ned them. 104 A. Siraj

Gay Masculinities

Given that heterosexuality is a key component of dominant masculinity, homosexual men unsettle heteronormative constructions of masculinity because being gay negates masculinity (Edwards 2005 ). Gay men are admonished for being the wrong type of men: too promiscuous, too phallic, or too lacking in masculinity and simply effeminate (Edwards, 2005 , p. 54). Schippers (2007 ) further comments that homosexuality in men is rejected by heterosexual men not because it is a subordinated kind of masculinity but because it is femininity. She elucidates that since femininity is both undesirable and inferior in comparison to masculinity, it is both contami- nated and stigmatized. Masculinity, on the other hand, must remain superior and never be associated with something undesirable. This allows the maintenance of masculine superiority in relation to femininity but essentially, “men are able to maintain legitimate possession of those superior characteristics irrespective of who is embodying femininity or masculinity” (Schippers 2007 , p. 97). In his analysis of homosexual relations in Turkish society, Tapinc (1992 ) describes four models: the masculine heterosexual, the masculine heterosexual and feminine homosexual, the masculine homosexual and feminine homosexual, and the masculine gay. His study demonstrates the way that masculine and feminine sexual/gender roles play in restricting the ability of homosexual men in Turkey to develop or construct alternative models of identity. Tapinc explicates that, “this is one of the reasons why the majority of homosexuals in Turkey, once they recognise their homosexuality, accept the effeminacy through identifying themselves with women and the images of womanhood” (1992 , p. 45). Islam plays an immensely important role in shaping homosexual men’s masculine identity. In Islam, women are: Expelled from the public sphere and confi ned to the private one because of the omnipotent sexuality they have which is regarded as a threat to the social order. In conjunction with the identifi cation with women, homosexuals, particularly feminine and “passive” ones, are assumed to possess the omnipotent sexuality, and, in turn, they are regarded as agents of the sexual threat to the male world. (Tapinc 1992 , p. 45) In the West, however, gay men are challenging heterosexist constructions of male masculinity, that is, regardless of their sexual orientation, as men, they too, qualify as being masculine. In her study of seven Muslim gay men in London, Siraj (2006 ) describes the way some of her participants reworked and subverted traditional ideals of masculinity. A recurrent theme was the need to challenge heterosexist gender roles and behaviors that regulate men’s behavior according to constrictive heterosexist masculine norms. For instance, her participants spoke about the importance of equality and the interchangeability of gender roles and behaviors. They refused to subscribe to heterosexist masculine gender scripts but instead chose to embrace both masculine and feminine qualities. The above studies invite us to consider the very different forms of masculinity that exist among Muslim men both in the occident and the orient. Masculine identities are dependent upon one’s age, class, and sexuality locating men in dominant or subordinate positions. The idea of a monolithic masculine identity for all Muslim “Men Are Hard … Women Are Soft”: Muslim Men and the Construction… 105 men is challenged, as the various studies referred to above, explicitly demonstrate the infl uence of complex social factors including, culture, identity, and religion. Masculinity is therefore situational, as individuals “form the self within the social, political and historical specifi cities of their immediate surroundings and settings” (Farooq and Parker 2009 , p. 280).

The Role of Islam in the Construction of Muslim Masculinities

The family is an instrumentally important foundation of the Islamic faith, providing men and women with structured roles and duties as husband and wife. The family is a gender factory (Berk 1985 ), and thus, obligations and duties are based around one’s gender. Marriage in Islam involves men and women complementing one another, and central to this institution is the emotional, ﬁ nancial, and psychological bond between two people. Marriage involves becoming the awliy (protector/supporter) of one another. For Badawi (1992 ), in order to fully understand the Muslim male role, one must turn to the physiological and psychological composition of man and woman. Although both have an equal claim on one another and have equal rights, there is one exception, which is man’s responsibility and leadership. Al-Jibaly (2000 ) comments that when we consider men and women in the Qur’an and hadith, we have to recognize that it does not equate two persons who are intrinsically different; therefore, it is a matter of fairness not equality. Similarly, Badawi (1995 ) points out that equality is often misinterpreted to refer to an unconditional equality, which encompasses every detailed item of comparison, rather than overall equality. Instead, in Islam, although all human beings are held to be equal, they are not necessarily the same. There are many differences in ability, potential, ambition, and wealth (Abd al ‘Ati 1998 ). Masculinity for Muslim men distinctly revolves around the role for married men: they must provide for and protect their wives and children (Qur’an, 4:34). The male in his role as main provider of the family dedicates himself to the performance of instrumental tasks (Parsons 1955 ), and as such marriage becomes an avenue to express masculinity. As fathers and husbands, they accept the prevailing obligations in this way; marriage is a religiously approved way for the enactment of men’s masculinity.

Methodology

Data was obtained through semi-structured qualitative interviews with 30 Muslim men who were selected using snowball sampling, which involves asking participants who have taken part in the study to refer and introduce the researcher to other potential participants. Interviews took place in Glasgow either at the participants’ workplace or home and were carried out individually. Each interview was audiotaped and transcribed verbatim and all participants were given a pseudonym to ensure conﬁ dentiality. The ethnic background of participants was as follows: Pakistani, 16; Arab, 10; 106 A. Siraj

Indian, 3; and African, 1. The participants were aged between 15 and 63 years; in total, 23 participants were in full-time employment, and the remaining three did not work (Ph.D. student, retired, househusband). The data was based in the main on middle-class men; however, there was diversity in terms of education, employment, ethnicity, and nationality. To analyze the data, I employed two types of coding: manifest and latent coding. The former involves identifying themes and forming categories in the text using the themes identiﬁ ed, while the latter has to do with the meanings that become apparent through reading the text (Sarantakos 2005 , p. 303).

Meanings of Masculinity

In this section, I examine and discuss the data gained from the men’s interviews. I began by questioning how they constructed their meanings and ideas about masculinity. Masculinity for some male participants was confl ated with maleness and was a term that involved possessing certain positive personal traits: I think men have to be assertive, that’s one of the things that makes him a man, when he talks he’s assertive, be strong don’t be cowardly. (Zohaib, 26) I think the man should be supportive, should be responsible to lead his family, provide emotional support and provide food. (Kamal, 34) Both men were practicing Muslims; Zohaib (26), who was single, had grown up in a family where his mother was the housewife and father the breadwinner. While Kamal, a Moroccan, married father of one, pointed out that the qualities he described as being masculine were the “norm” in Morocco. However, the terms used indicated expectation: “men have to be assertive,” “should be supportive,” and “should be responsible.” By doing so, both demonstrated that men were expected to have these qualities not because of some innate male instinct or disposition but because they were men. Participants also expressed their belief in the discourse of complementarity to describe and defi ne masculinity: I t ’s bi-polar, there are certain qualities that men have and there are certain qualities that women have and both of these have to go together. I think naturally men are a lot more aggressive than women, women expect to be wanted; they expect to get a lot of love. Men are not like that, men are hard and more rough. Men are more physical their skin is more rough, women are soft and more gentle and their skin softer. (Shoaib, 36) Shoaib, a married father of three, refl ected the views of Badawi (1992 ), an Egyptian Muslim scholar who argues that it is the physical and psychological difference between men and women upon which the male’s responsibility and leadership is based. Men are aggressive, rough, and thus able to deal with hardship. Women are soft and gentle and thus in need of care and protection. A man’s biology was instrumental in shaping some participants’ view because it legitimized their presence in the public sphere and women in the private sphere. According to Kynaston (1996 ), naturalistic arguments with their connotations of biological determinism are consistently cited to preserve the subordinate position of “Men Are Hard … Women Are Soft”: Muslim Men and the Construction… 107 women both in the public and private realm. The provider role was frequently used to demonstrate men’s masculine identity. Gender for Zohaib (26), a British-born Pakistani, IT consultant, was an absolute (natural) entity of human behavior, which dictated the type of roles men and women were able to perform: [The natural side of men] is to go and work, to protect their families. Men are not going outside of their natural environment; women are, when they go out to work. (Zohaib, 26) When you’re [female] born your dad looks after you, then you’ve got your brothers and once you get married your husband looks after you. (Sabir, 27) Men through their control and dominance of the public sphere are able to secure their sense of identity, as it validates their heterosexuality and masculinity (Whitehead 2002 , p. 120). Smith and Winchester (1998 ) further assert that a pivotal point of men’s identity is negotiated at the boundary between the male’s domain of work and the female domain of home. The man’s role was simply “to take care of the whole family” (Ali, Male 25); as fathers, brothers, and husbands, men have an enduring and binding obligation to the female members of the family (daughter, sister, and wife) . These men draw heavily upon patriarchal discourses to assert their dominance and superiority over women. Such an understanding created a universal model of masculinity based on the ideology of breadwinning, which shaped men’s gender relations and defi ned their sense of self, manhood, and masculinity. Through marriage men enter “a set of interpersonal and institutional practices” that connects them to a public world and gives them “a masculine position and stance within it” (Connell 1992 , p. 741). This idea refl ects what Piper (1991 ) refers to as “mature masculinity” which involves a sense of benevolent responsibility to lead, provide for, and protect women in ways appropriate to men’s differing relationships. For Piper (1991 ), a conservative Christian scholar, to be masculine, a man must feel as well a sense that he is masculine, and the affi rmation of this is expressed in the responsibility of woman. There was an explicit expression of paternalism, the view or attitude that women should be controlled and protected in a fatherly way for their own benefi t. By combining masculine traits with paternalistic ideas, they conceived of their role as a justifi cation for their physical strength. The marker of masculinity was: To be strong, brave in fi ghts. (Tanvir, 35) Strong physically and mentally. (Zaki, 17) Have physical strength and to be able to protect. (Bashir, 48) However, physical strength itself was not an adequate measure of one’s masculinity: The strength has two facets: one is mental strength or spiritual strength the other is physical strength. So as far as physical strength is concerned the man is more stronger, so the man’s job is to protect and to fi ght as well. This power, this authority, this increase in strength has got responsibility as well, because when you have authority, when you have responsibility you cannot abuse it, you are responsible for using it properly. (Amin, 65) I t ’s like a knife if you put the knife in the Doctor’s hand: it will be used properly for the sake of doing something to the patient, but if you give that knife to a madman then it will have a different affect. (Nasr, 39) 108 A. Siraj

Similar to a Doctor who is concerned with curing the patient through his knowledge and care, the husband also uses his strength to care for and protect others. Yet, there was also a recognition of the potential to misuse male power and physical strength: The man should be strong, but also have mercy. They are positive, but you shouldn’t use your strength to abuse others. It’s positive when you are brave defending Islam or your country. (Tanvir, 35) Possessing power in the context of the care of others is positive and benefi cial, framing their masculinity in this way fostered the idea that their masculinity was valid and righteous. Indeed, strength was an essential element of masculinity and with attached aspects of justice and mercy acted to legitimate male superiority. Masculine identity was defi ned in relation to the “protection of femininity,” especially through the control and care of women (Wetherell, cited in Archer 2001 , p. 83). This was evident in participants’ views because one of the essential qualities of being a man/masculine (used interchangeably by participants) was to provide for and to protect the family: Being able to provide for your family and protect them for me that is essential, looking after your children and your wife. That is what makes a man. (Asad, 23) For Asad, a business analyst who was single, being the provider was a way of “doing masculinity.” For others, the ability to protect was integral to a man’s masculinity: If a thief came to my house I would be the fi rst one to go and fi ght them I wouldn’t go and ask my wife to, so it’s a physical thing. (Bashir, 48) By projecting on to men the capacity to protect, they in turn deny this ability to women because it is women who require protection and care. Other participants, however, defi ned masculinity as a set of culturally undesirable traits: Masculinity is authority, shouting loud, dictatorship almost. (Asim, 28) Big fat slob lying on his couch drinking his beer or telling his wife to go get him a glass of water, fetch! Masculinity and chauvinism tend to go hand in hand. (Ijaz, 38) Clearly there’s a huge negative element to it, men have basically said this is masculinity, we’ve got it all you don’t have any of it, it’s ours and we’re big because of it, and because we’re physically stronger we can dominate you. That’s an abuse of masculinity. It is perhaps distant, divisive when its negative and exclusive. (Javed, 40) Like courage and bravery and this sort of nonsense, people tend to associate particular forms of behavior with one sex not with the other. (Nabeel, 40) Asim, a Moroccan-born working-class sales assistant, revealed that in his home, he played the traditional feminine role; he did much of the cooking and shared domestic chores with his wife. Therefore, the role he performed within his home confl icted with traditional ideas about masculinity. With the exception of Asim, all the other participants were born and bred in Britain. Ijaz, an academic who lived on his own, also related that his personal experience demonstrated that women are far from “dependant meek creatures.” His sisters worked and were independent at a time “when it was not deemed appropriate for Pakistani women to work outside the home.” “Men Are Hard … Women Are Soft”: Muslim Men and the Construction… 109

The meaning of masculinity was disassociated from religious discourse but aligned with cultural mores and values. These men were also highly educated: Ijaz had a doctorate, Nabeel was a system administrator (both worked at a university), and Javed was a doctor. All three were middle-class men and by their own admission considered themselves as liberal minded individuals.

Participants Narratives on Their Masculine Identity

A large number of male participants viewed masculinity in a positive light. They considered themselves to possess masculine qualities or saw it as an ideal they hoped to attain: The terms I used to defi ne masculinity don’t apply to me. I only provide to my mum, actually I owe her a debt because when I was a child she looked after me. In Islam there is that debt that you have to repay. I’m repaying that debt, other than that I’m not making any decisions. I’m not protecting the house; I’m free of those responsibilities. (Zohaib, 26) I think I’m masculine; I just do wild things to keep in touch with my masculine side, just like sports. I think I’m playing my natural role I don’t think I’m doing anything that I shouldn’t be. (Jameel, 28) Masculinity was not intrinsically rooted to a set of attributes: it was not a natural state of being. Rather for Zohaib masculinity was bestowed to men when they became responsible for others (especially women: mother and wife). The word “responsibility” was chosen to imply that a man is uniquely called to account for his leadership, provision, and protection in relation to women. A man’s masculine identity was realized and achieved only when he developed from adolescence through to adulthood with a responsibility for others. The father’s involvement in the family was also related to aspects of masculinity; however, his responsibility was central but distinct from the female: To provide to the best of my capacity, give the best at the same time give the child the best of manners, give him the best of education. (Aslam, 55) From a natural disposition a man is stronger physically, mentally in some ways . . . emotionally; you know the feminine touch that’s the natural side of women. Men’s natural side is being hands-on; making sure everything is done, being the breadwinner. I think decision- making is important, let’s not beat around the bush, I’m not going to say that men don’t, they do, it’s fact. (Saif, 24) Saif, a police offi cer and married father of two, believed and supported the view that men “are more rational or reasonable than women, who for their part are ruled over by their hearts or their emotions” (Edley and Wetherell 1996 , p. 107). Masculinity entailed the “repudiation of femininity” (Kimmel 1987 ). This separation was accomplished by emphasizing different caring styles as a means of distinguishing men’s contribution from that of women’s. This contrasts with the views articulated by some traditional Muslim scholars (Maududi 1972 ; Al-Jibaly 2000 ; Maqsood 1995 ; Doi 1989 ), who argue that in order for men to be considered 110 A. Siraj masculine, they must adopt or display feminine characteristics, such as kindness, care, and compassion. Participants were also asked to describe male behavior that they believed to be the opposite of masculinity. Shoaib, a married father of three, believed that men were: Becoming very passive, they’re not leading anymore. It’s not a thing of superiority or authority but I think men should be doing a lot more and more physically in society than women are expected to do. I think men have to take that role, nowadays, the way society works both are taking that role. (Shoaib, 36) The power, authority, and status associated with the masculine role were being eroded because men were becoming feminine, that is, “passive.” This idea equated masculinity with hard work, achievement, and competitiveness. It was men through their masculine advantage (physical strength, and competence) who should be “doing a lot more.” Yet Shoaib, a househusband, according to his own understanding, had become more “passive” because of the role he occupied within his family. Masculinity for some men was also essential in defi ning and distinguishing men from “others”: Masculinity has become important in order to differentiate not only between women but also between men and homosexuals because most of them are feminine natured. Although within their relationship I’m sure there will be someone whose more overpowering than the other one. So in that sense, masculinity for some people has become quite important: not only do they feel that the role of the man is threatened from the woman but also from homosexuals as well. (Majid, 37) Majid, a civil servant, used masculinity to stratify humans fi rstly by virtue of their sex (male over female) and secondly according to their sexual orientation (heterosexuality over homosexuality). He demonstrated in his response a hegemonic masculinity that subordinated gay males because they are the antithesis of masculinity (Connell 1987 ). Gay men posed a real threat to the identity of heterosexual males because they undermined the very institution upon which heterosexual men derived their privilege and power.

Doing Masculinity Through the Flight from Femininity

There were external as well as internal differences between men and women that accentuated the difference between the sexes. One particular element of men’s masculinity that was highlighted by several participants was their beard, a male prerogative (Bouhdiba 1998 ), which enhanced the male’s masculine identity. Shirazi (2008 ) explains that “men’s facial hair in Islam falls within a host of issues related to Muslim masculinity. These include defi ning cultural and religious markers that signal ‘masculine’ identity and behaviour, as well as determining the consequences of these markers” (p. 111). The beard, then, is strongly associated with masculinity, wisdom and piety and framed in religious terms because Prophet Muhammad emphasized the importance of having a beard: “it’s the Sunnah of the Prophet and it’s a masculine thing as well” (Saif, 24). The Prophet succinctly stated “Men Are Hard … Women Are Soft”: Muslim Men and the Construction… 111 that Muslim men should “cut the moustaches short and leave the beard (as it is).” The sort of masculinity it “symbolises in Islam is a mark of authority and piety” (Delaney 1995 , p. 65). Bouhdiba (1998 ) goes further by stating that because the beard is a form of masculinity it “is therefore a canonical duty to wear a beard” (p. 34). Participants who had a beard used it to distinguish between age groups, men and women: “the beard is a masculine thing, even in the Western world to be a man you had a beard that showed that you are different, you’re different from a child, you’re showing maturity and development in a person” (Shoaib, Male 36). In total, 13 participants had a beard, and for some, it served to symbolize the difference between men and women: The way I speak, the way I dress, the way I do certain things I should be clearly distinguish- able from a woman. That’s why we should grow a beard, the Prophet said grow the beard to differentiate yourself not only from the unbelievers but to differentiate between men and women. It’s natural. (Majid, 37) Men do masculinity in a variety of ways; for Majid, a British-born Pakistani, this involved his entire way of “being.” His comportment, clothes, and actions distinguished him from women, and the beard symbolized this difference. The beard was also held to be a biological imperative for men and to be shaven situated them in the feminine realm that involved a preoccupation with care and beauty. As Riaz (1991 ) remarks, “shaving the beard is an unnatural act that amounts to the identifi cation with women . . . the beard . . . is a complement of masculinity; and is a distinctive feature of the male” (p. 86). Participants were prompted to further elaborate on their own understanding and construction of masculinity. In the following responses, masculinity was understood in contrast to what it was not—feminine: Don’t be like a woman. For women I would say don’t be like a man. Men shouldn’t go to the depth of being like a woman, because women are meant to be of a certain nature. (Imran, 29) Being strong, not showing weakness, not acting like a woman, my attributes are of a man, I don’t act like a woman. (Asad, 23) Asad, a dentist and British-born Pakistani, measured masculinity against femininity not only to emphasize the differences between the two but also to underscore the superiority of the former over the latter. The passive attribute of being “weak” conformed more closely to enactments of femininity and went against conventional masculine behavior. This view of masculinity was very narrow and constrictive and confl ated being male with being masculinity. This ultimately led the men to be secure in their gender identity and privileged their position, but it was simultaneously used to defend men’s patriarchal position over women.

Religious Afﬁ rmation of Masculinity

According to Inhorn (2012 ), the role of Islam in reinforcing hegemonic masculinity is fundamental. As Islam “organizes daily life through prayer and ritual; it dictates men’s attitudes towards women, including through gender segregation and 112 A. Siraj prohibitions on intimate contact with unrelated women; it channels men’s economic relations” (p. 50). Scriptural edicts (Qur’an) and the Prophet’s Sunnah provided some participants with a clear understanding of their position in the home and society: “without a doubt, Allah has mentioned in the Qur’an that men and women are made different full stop” (Haris, 37). Here sex was used to defi ne and determine the roles and behaviors of men and women. Gender roles were believed to be “natural” and involved respecting and understanding each spouse’s role: I t ’s impossible that men can be equal to women because we’re different naturally. It’s like you’re part of an engine you fi t in and run perfectly. They have their own role in life. It [Islam] gives you guidelines on the etiquette of respecting a female of respecting the man from his masculinity point of view. Islam gives you the boundaries, the adhab [etiquettes] of understanding a woman’s and a man’s role (Moin, 24). Moin, an accountant and British-born Pakistani, brought to attention the difference between “equality” and “equity”: two beings (male and female) cannot be treated equally because of their inherent biological differences (Badawi 1992 ). Prophet Muhammad also served as a model of masculinity to emulate (Khuri 2001 ). As Salim (52), an Iraqi forensic pathologist, pointed out: “he [Prophet] has characters chosen by Allah; in fact he was behaved by Allah. Every one of us is behaved by our mother and father, he had no mother or father, He [Allah] told him to do that, don’t do that.” However, Shoaib’s (37) situation reveals the contradictory collage of men’s gender experience. He described, on the one hand, the ideal he believed Islam espoused and, on the other hand, his own personal experience: The role of man in Islam is really to take care of the family. If the woman wants to be the bread earner it’s not her responsibility it’s the husband’s. A woman, if she wants to work she can work; if she doesn’t want to work she doesn’t have to, the man must work because he has to bring in the wealth. My situation is specifi c to myself and is different. At the moment it’s not a problem, it’s not my fault that my wife gets work a lot easier and she earns two or three times as much as I would do, plus she likes to work. I know it’s only a short-time thing. If my wife’s not happy then I would have to go and force myself to go and work. The responsibility is on the man, but I know she enjoys her work. (Shoaib, 36) Shoaib talked about the man’s responsibility to look after and provide for his family. Although his current situation directly confl icted with this ideal, he claimed that “it’s not a problem.” He justifi ed his wife’s position as the sole breadwinner because “she enjoys her work” and “she likes to work.” However, it was Shoaib who earlier voiced concerns about “men becoming very passive” and his response to this contradiction was: I t ’s not necessarily me taking on the feminine, it’s just that’s what’s happened; I’m still a masculine person. The only thing is that I’m not working, but I still do what I want to do, I still read, I still write, I still play football. (Shoaib, 36) To be masculine concerned an active performance demonstrating that gender is an “achieved property of situated conduct” (West and Zimmerman 1987, p. 126). In such a situation because the “traditional modes of masculinity become harder to sustain, so in the absence of other, fuller sources of identity, it is clung to more desperately” (Frosh 1995, p. 222). Shoaib’s comment demonstrates his confi dence in redefi ning his “Men Are Hard … Women Are Soft”: Muslim Men and the Construction… 113 masculinity, which also defl ects feelings of being subordinated or marginalized as a result of being a househusband. Consequently, this allowed him to validate his masculinity but also enabled him to resist being marginalized. Although he was no longer fi nancially “active,” he was in touch with his masculine side, “I still read, I still write,” and thus active in his vocation as a qualifi ed teacher. Unlike a traditional housewife who cooks and cleans, he has not become feminized through his experience within the feminine domestic realm. Despite this, he felt the need to declare and affi rm that: “I’m still a masculine person.” While he believed in traditional gender roles (the man being the breadwinner), he occupied a secondary position within the family and by his own account not a masculine role/position. Regardless of Shoaib’s actual status within the family, he was able to construct himself as masculine by discursively reworking his masculine identity. He tried to negotiate a position that would not lead to potential criticism of him as a man, husband, and his masculine identity. This was a way for Shoaib to distance himself from subordinate masculinity (feminine/effeminate realm) by aligning himself with hegemonic masculinity.

Conclusion

The context within which my participants’ masculine identities are articulated, understood, negotiated, and practiced is infl uenced by their class position, ethnicity, and country of origin, among other social factors. The meaning and construction of masculinity is neither transhistorical nor culturally universal (Kimmel and Aronson 2004 ), rather the specifi c features of masculinity and femininity vary depending on context (Schippers 2007 , p. 98). The fi ndings of the present study suggest that religion should be considered an infl uential aspect in the construction of Muslim men’s masculine identity. Religion was used to reinforce notions of gender difference in marriage and parenting. While the fi ndings of the present study do not indicate the construction of religious masculinities, it does, however, signify the importance of religion in shaping the men’s gender identity; that is, some participants directly made reference to and held the Qur’an and hadith as a guide (Farooq and Parker 2009 ), which helped nurture the construction of their masculinity, from the prescription to provide for their family to emulating Prophet Muhammad in keeping the beard. The participants’ narratives demonstrate a strong and collective belief in the separation of the sexes, a distinction between instrumental and expressive roles (Parsons and Bales 1955 ) and doing masculinity in order to be perceived as masculine. There was a fi rm belief in the sexual division of power as the male/masculine role, it was claimed, developed socially and culturally, but the basis remained biological. Although there were a range of responses in relation to the meanings and value attributed to masculinity, there was a shared framework that accentuated a dominant masculinity. In contrast to Hopkins’ (2006 ) study, my participants were not engaged in a complex process of construction and negotiation of their masculine identity. Rather, they appeared secure in identifying themselves as masculine through their role in the family but also, more signifi cantly, through their position in the public sphere. This 114 A. Siraj produced a discourse that encouraged traditional gender roles, and what was identifi ed as masculine attributes were employed to celebrate and enhance normative maleness (Cornwall and Lindisfarne 1994 ). My participants adopted and supported hegemonic masculinity through various means, but principally through the provision, protection, and care of others (especially the wife). Moreover, similar to Hopkins’ (2006 ) fi ndings, my participants were keen to emphasize the importance of work and being able to provide for their family; this was an essential element of their masculine identity . Men’s positionality in relation to women was integral to protecting and safeguarding any threat to their masculinity. Equally, their masculine identity was based in the renunciation of the feminine (Kimmel 1994 ): men stressed the biological and physical differences between men and women allowing them to create meanings of masculinity through difference and separation (from women). Therefore, men’s masculinity and self-perception was also based on what they were not rather than what they were (Kimmel 1994 , pp. 126–127). Expectations of women and men’s role were understood in deeply gendered ways, and the behaviors appropriate to each gender were widely accepted. Men held strong views as to what constituted appropriate masculine role. Participants’ experiences within the public and private sphere mapped out the ways in which masculinity was understood, constructed, and justifi ed. It was clear that masculinity only existed in relation to femininity (Frosh et al. 2002 ). There was a blurring between “being masculine” and “doing masculinity,” that is, the former was characterized by behaving in accordance with their “nature,” which stressed an essentialist understanding that simultaneously weakened man’s agency. “Doing masculinity” involved the enactment of masculinity through the provision and protection of the family through the breadwinner’s role. The men, in general, thought about masculinity within a particularly narrow scope, predominantly through expectations placed on men as husbands and fathers (being provider and protector). The fi ndings from the present study indicate that Muslim men construct and negotiate their masculine identities using a religious but also biological framework. References from the Qur’an and the hadith were used to authenticate beliefs on masculinity and the role that men were exclusively expected to perform. This led participants to promote and perceive masculinity as superior and dominant, yet righteous as it was framed in religious terms.

References

Abd al ‘Ati, H. (1998). Islam in focus . Maryland: Sabira Publications. Al-Jibaly, M. (2000). The Muslim family volume 3: The fragile vessels: Rights & obligations between spouses in Islam . Texas: Al-Kitaab & as-Sunnah. Al-Khattab, H. (1997). Bent rib: A journey through women’s issues in Islam . London: Ta-Ha Publishers. Archer, L. (2001). Muslim brothers, black lads, traditional Asians: British Muslim young men’s constructions of race, religion and masculinity. Feminism & Psychology, 11 (1), 79–105. Archer, L. (2003). Race, masculinity and schooling: Muslim boys and education . Maidenhead: Open University Press. “Men Are Hard … Women Are Soft”: Muslim Men and the Construction… 115

Badawi, J. A. (1992). Women in Islam. In K. Ahmad (Ed.), Islam: Its meaning and message . Leicester: The Islamic Foundation. Badawi, J. (1995). Gender equity in Islam: Basic principles . Plainﬁ eld: American Trust Publications. Berk, S. F. (1985). The gender factory . New York: Plenum. Bouhdiba, A. (1998). Sexuality in Islam (Alan Sheridan, Trans.). London: Saqi Books. Connell, R. W. (1987). Gender and power . Stanford: Stanford University Press. Connell, R. W. (1992). A very straight gay: Masculinity, homosexual experience, and the dynamics of gender. American Sociological Review, 5 (6), 735–751. Cornwall, A., & Lindisfarne, N. (1994). Dislocating masculinity: Gender, power and anthropology. In A. Cornwall & N. Lindisfarne (Eds.), Dislocating masculinity: Comparative ethnographies (pp. 11–47). London: Routledge. Delaney, C. (1995). Untangling the meaning of hair in Turkish society. In H. Eilberg-Schwartz & W. Doniger (Eds.), Off with her head! Denial of women’s identity in myth, religion, and culture (pp. 53–75). Berkeley: University of California Press. Doi, A. R. I. (1989). Woman in Shari’ah, Islamic law . London: Ta-Ha Publishers. Edley, N., & Wetherell, M. (1996). Masculinity, power and identity. In M. Mac an Ghaill (Ed.), Understanding masculinities: Social relations and cultural arenas (pp. 97–113). Philadelphia: Open University Press. Edwards, T. (2005). Queering the Pitch? Gay Masculinities. In M. S. Kimmel, J. Hearn, & R. W. Connell (Eds.), Handbook of studies on men and masculinities (pp. 51–68). Thousand Oaks: Sage. Farooq, S., & Parker, A. (2009). Sport, physical education, and Islam: Muslim independent schooling and the social construction of masculinities. Sociology of Sport Journal, 26, 277–295. Frosh, S. (1995). Unpacking masculinity: From rationality to fragmentation. In C. Burck & B. Speed (Eds.), Gender power, and relationship (pp. 218–231). London: Routledge. Frosh, S., Phoenix, A., & Pattman, R. (2002). Young masculinities: Understanding boys in contemporary society . Basingstoke: Palgrave. Gerami, S. (2003). Mullahs, martyrs, and men: Conceptualizing masculinity in the Islamic Republic of Iran. Men and Masculinities, 5 (3), 257–274. Goksel, I. (2006). Virginity and masculinity. In A. Jones (Ed.), Men of the global south: A reader (pp. 55–57). London: Zed Books. Hearn, J. (1996). “Is masculinity dead?” A critique of the concept of masculinity and masculinities. In M. Mac an Ghaill (Ed.), Understanding masculinities: Social relations and cultural arenas (pp. 202–217). Milton Keynes: Open University Press. Hopkins, P. E. (2006). Youthful Muslim masculinities: Gender and generational relations. Transaction of the Institute of the British Geography, 31 (3), 337–352. Inhorn, M. C. (2012). The new Arab man: Emergent masculinities, reproductive technologies, and Islam in the Middle East . Princeton: Princeton University Press. Khuri, F. I. (2001). The body In Islamic culture . London: Saqi Books. Kimmel, M. (1987). The contemporary “crisis” of masculinity in historical perspective. In H. Brod (Ed.), The making of masculinities: The new men’s studies (pp. 121–153). Boston: Allen and Unwin. Kimmel, M. (1994). Masculinity as homophobia: Fear, shame, and silence in the construction of gender identity. In H. Brod & M. Kaufman (Eds.), Theorizing masculinities (pp. 119–141). Thousand Oaks: Sage. Kimmel, M. S., & Aronson, A. (2004). Introduction. In M. S. Kimmel & A. Aronson (Eds.), Men and masculinities: A social, cultural, and historical encyclopedia (pp. xv–xxvi). Santa Barbara: ABC-CLIO. Kynaston, C. (1996). The everyday exploitation of women: Housework and the patriarchal mode of production. Women’s Studies International Forum, 19 (3), 221–237. Macey, M. (1999). Class, gender and religious inﬂ uences on changing patterns of Pakistani Muslim Male Violence in Bradford. Ethnic and Racial Studies, 22 (5), 845–866. Maqsood, R. W. (1995). Muslim marriage guide . London: Quilliam Press. 116 A. Siraj

Maududi, A. A. (1972). Purdah and the status of woman in Islam (Al Ash’ari, Trans. ed.). Lahore: Islamic Publications (PVT) Limited. Mirandé, A. (1997). Hombres y Machos: Masculinity and Latino culture . Boulder: Westview. Modood, T., Berthoud, R., Lakey, J., Nazroo, J., Smith, P., Virdee, S., & Beishon, S. (1997). Ethnic minorities in Britain: Diversity and disadvantage . London: Policy Studies Institute. Murthy, D. (2010). “Muslim punk” music online: Piety and protest in the digital age . Retrieved from: http://www.bowdoin.edu/faculty/d/dmurthy/pdf/murthy-muslim-punk-music-online- educational-use-only.pdf . Accessed 12 May 2012. Nilan, P., Donaldson, M., & Howson, R. (2007). Indonesian Muslim masculinities in Australia. Asian Social Science, 3 (9), 18–27. Okkenhaug, M., & Flaskerud, I. (2005). Introduction. In M. Okkenhaug & I. Flaskerud (Eds.), Gender, religion and change in the Middle East: Two hundred years of history (pp. 1–13). Oxford: Berg. Ouzgane, L. (1997). Masculinity as virility in Tahar Ben Jelloun’s work. Contagion: Journal of Violence, Mimesis, and Culture, 4 (2), 1–13. Ouzgane, L. (2003). Islamic masculinities. Men and Masculinities, 5 (3), 231–235. Ouzgane, L. (2006). An introduction. In L. Ouzgane (Ed.), Islamic masculinities (pp. 1–8). London: Zed Books. Parsons, T. (1955). Family structure and the socialization of the child. In T. Parsons & R. F. Bales (Eds.), Family, socialization, and interaction process (pp. 35–131). Glencoe: Free Press. Parsons, T., & Bales, R. (1955). Family, socialisation and interaction process. Glencoe: Free Press. Piper, J. (1991). A vision of Biblical complementarity: Manhood and womanhood deﬁ ned according to the Bible. In J. Piper & W. A. Grudem (Eds.), Recovering biblical manhood and womanhood: A response to evangelical feminism (pp. 25–55). Wheaton: Crossway Books. Riaz, H. (1991). Halal (lawful) and haram (un-lawful) in Islam . Lahore: Islamic Book Centre. Roald, A. S. (2001). Women In Islam: The western experience . London: Routledge. Samad, Y. (1998). Media and Muslim identity: Intersections of generation and gender. Innovation, 11 (4), 425–438. Sarantakos, S. (2005). Social research . Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Schippers, M. (2007). Recovering the feminine other: Masculinity, femininity, and gender hegemony. Theory and Society, 36 , 85–102. Schleifer, A. (1996). Motherhood in Islam . Kentucky: The Islamic Texts Society. Shirazi, F. (2008). Men’s facial hair in Islam: A matter of interpretation. In S. Cheang & G. Biddle- Perry (Eds.), Hair: Styling, culture and fashion (pp. 111–122). Oxford: Berg. Siraj, A. (2006). On being homosexual and Muslim: Conﬂ icts and challenges. In L. Ouzgane (Ed.), Islamic masculinities (pp. 202–216). London: Zed Books. Siraj, A. (2010). “Because I’m the man! I’m the head”: British married Muslims and the patriarchal family structure. Contemporary Islam: Dynamics of Muslim Life, 4 , 195–214. Smith, G. D., & Winchester, H. P. M. (1998). Negotiating space: Alternative masculinities at the work/home boundary. Australian Geographer, 29 (3), 327–340. Tapinc, H. (1992). Masculinity, femininity, and Turkish male homosexuality. In K. Plummer (Ed.), Modern homosexualities: Lesbian and gay experience (pp. 39–53). London: Routledge. Wadud, A. (1999). Qur ’an and woman: Re-Reading the sacred text from a woman;s perspective . New York: Oxford University Press. West, C., & Zimmerman, D. H. (1987). Doing gender. Gender and Society, 1 (2), 125–151. Whitehead, S. M. (2002). Men and Masculinities: Key themes and new directions . Cambridge: Polity Press. Part III Masculinity Under Negotiation Making the Global Bhadralok : Bengali Men and the Transnational Middle Class in India

Saayan Chattopadhyay

Scholarship on colonial Bengali men has a rich and illustrious oeuvre. Such discourse commonly included a gendered perspective as the copious texts on nationalist discourse recurrently revolved around the notion of “ Bhadramahila,” and “ Bhadralok.” The term bhadralok is commonly used to refer to the social category of the Bengali middle-class urban educated male; in other words, it means, most of all, gentle folk or “respectable man.” Even though in pre-colonial Bengal they are initially associated with only the traditional literati, upper castes, in contemporary Bengali society they are a distinct status group, which is not coterminous with caste or class (Mukherjee 1975 , p. 225). To understand the nuances of bhadralok masculinity, at least a sketchy outline of the term is necessary at the onset. The bhadralok were characterized by their sophisticated behavior and refi ned taste, although they did not necessarily possess signifi cant wealth and power. However, it was during the eighteenth century that the bhadralok achieved their sociopolitical ascendancy under British rule because they were the fi rst to obtain essential education and entered the civil service. They appeared to be the main inter- mediary class in India, embodying western education and culture but retained a sense of “Indianness.” They acquired considerable wealth and sustained their elite social status predominantly by means of their occupations in teaching and administration. Bhadralok hegemony became apparent in nineteenth-century colonial Bengal, as they had a pervasive infl uence in education, social reform, and literature. As Partha Chatterjee (1997 , p. 11) explains, the bhadralok hoped to achieve through education what was denied to them by the economy. In 1947, when India gained independence, the bhadralok , who had hitherto not considered entrepreneurial pursuits, were economically overwhelmed by the established castes of Indian traders and moneylenders, originally coming from the Punjab and Rajasthan (Buruma 1986 ). Thus, the bhadralok became heterogeneous

S. Chattopadhyay (*) Department of Journalism & Mass Communication , Baruipur College, University of Calcutta , Kolkata , India e-mail: [email protected]

J. Gelfer (ed.), Masculinities in a Global Era, International and Cultural Psychology 4, 119 DOI 10.1007/978-1-4614-6931-5_7, © Springer Science+Business Media New York 2014 120 S. Chattopadhyay in contrast to their early position for two centuries as a relatively prosperous, educated, and fairly cultured status group. Even today, many bhadralok families continue to be culturally rich but fi nancially poor, and more importantly, they continue to seek higher education especially for their children and try to keep up a semblance of their once elite social status by engaging in writing, music, and artistic practices. However, the changing economic conditions have meant that their keenness for almost puritanical cultural distinction is fading, and often to their disadvantage, conspicuous consumption is increasingly becoming an important determinant of status in Bengal and in India more generally (Scrase 1993 ). Although, here I must hasten to add that the contemporary period of globalization and the neoliberal economic reforms in India have simply intensifi ed, instead of being the singular reason behind the economic and social transformations of the Bengali bhadralok . Institutions like education, the legal system, and the media played a signifi cant role in the gradual transformation of the Indian nation-state from a regulated, state-protected economy to an open, free-market economy, by inculcating and disseminating the values and ideology of the new economic policies. Especially, the media helped defi ne and circulate the narratives of the “new,” liberalized India. As Fernandes (2000 , p. 612) explains: “Media images produce a vision of the Indian nation based on an idealized depiction of the urban middle classes and new patterns of commodity consumption.” It is important to note that the middle classes continue to be the main intermediaries between the post-liberal nation-state and the people living at the margins of society. They are the bearers of the liberalization mantra and are at the center of the production and consumption of symbolic and material goods (Ganguly-Scrase and Scrase 1999 ). Intersecting these economic, political specifi cities of the middle classes in Bengal is the wide- ranging issue of cultural transformation, which is reshaping identity and subjectivity of the contemporary Bengali men. Within this context, I provide a tentative outline of the discursive construction of a “crossover” bhadralok identity as represented in the local popular media and seek to explore in what way modernity and neoliberal values parallel an overwhelming cultural specifi city and constitute Bengali masculinity in contemporary Bengal.

The Cultural Anxiety of Bengali Identity: From Colonial to Postcolonial and Post-liberal

Several historically specifi c arguments that intercepted with notions of colonialism, national politics, and historiography shaped the discourse on Bengali masculinity. The Indian Hindu male has been predominantly portrayed as effeminate and weak by the British colonizers since the early nineteenth century. From the middle of the nineteenth century, especially following the rebellion in 1857, this perception was almost unequivocally pointed at educated Bengali middle-class men. Concerns regarding the physical strength, courage, and virility of the Bengali male fi nally led Making the Global Bhadralok : Bengali Men… 121 to the major restructuring of the Indian army under the colonial rule. And as a consequence of such identifi cation, gradually through the nature of recruitment, two distinct masculine identities were produced—martial and non-martial. The idea that certain ethnic groups are inherently more masculine, predominantly because they possessed “the fi ghting instincts”—conceived as the appropriate expression of manliness—marked the doctrine of “martial races.” Hence according to this categorization, while the Rajputs, Pathans, Nairs, Marathas, Gurkhas, Sikhs, and few other ethnic groups were considered as “manly,” the Bengalis were supposed to be “cowardly” and “effete,” leading to their exclusion from the colonial Indian army. Mrinalini Sinha ( 1995 ), in her seminal study on Bengali masculinity in the colonial period, clearly shows how political and ideological deliberations over the Ilbert Bill (1883–1884), the Native Volunteer movement (1884–1885), recruitment to the Public Service Commission (1886–1887), and the age of consent controversy (1891) in the late nineteenth century persistently assumed the Bengali middle-class male as effeminate. Indira Chowdhury (2001 , p. 4) in her book The Frail Hero and Virile History explains: “Physically and morally the Bengali was doubly identifi ed with weakness—fi rstly with the frailty of women, and secondly, with the powerless- ness of the submissive slave. This gendered identifi cation of the colonized male as womanly came to be naturalized by the late nineteenth century through repeated discursive constructions and reconstructions.” The infamous description of Bengali by Thomas Macaulay clearly expresses this view: The physical organization of the Bengali is feeble even to effeminacy. He lives in a constant vapour bath. His pursuits are sedimentary, his limbs delicate, his movements languid. During many ages he has been trampled upon by men of bolder and hardy deeds. Courage, independence, veracity, are qualities to which his constitution and his situation are equally unfavourable. (cited in Rosseli 1980 , p. 122) The Bengalis were categorized in the fi fth category of Indian physical types and lacked all the aggressive characteristics of the Sikhs and Rajputs. As Risley commented, its members may be identifi ed at a glance throughout the wide area where their remarkable aptitude for clerical pursuits has given them employment. Clerical pursuits implied a lack of heroism, for when compared to the war-like races of the Punjab the Bengalis did not “have any stomach for fi ghting” and submitted tamely to the periodical raids of the hill people (Chowdhury 2001 , p. 53). Such stereotypes constructed through the colonial discourse continued to infl u- ence and eventually naturalized the construction of Bengali masculinity. As an outcome of this naturalization, not only was the educated, middle-class, urban elite Bengali gentleman or bhadralok character identifi ed as effeminate, compliant, and physically feeble by colonizers, but also, perhaps more importantly, this identifi cation was entrenched in the self-perception of the Bengali male and other “martial” ethnicities. Bengali bhadralok , commonly working as clerks, were collectively addressed as “ Babu” under the subordination of more masculine British male and in contrast to other “martial Indians.” 1 122 S. Chattopadhyay

Here I wish to suggest that since the late nineteenth century, the colonial discourse regarding the masculinity of the Bengali male has followed three distinct trajectories: fi rst, a manner of self-ridicule and self-irony, primarily embodied in the writings of Madhusudan Dutta, Kaliprasanna Singha, Bankim Chandra Chattopadhyay, Sukumar Ray, and others; second, a mode of mythic-historical discourse about reclaiming the supposedly more masculine past; and third, a discourse centered on urban middle-class bhadralok , who seek out a more ambivalent masculine self that is beyond the gender binaries and forms a more subversive, fl exible masculinity (Chattopadhyay 2011 , p. 266). The fi rst mode of expression is used as a subversive ploy as Kaliprasanna Singha declares in the introduction of Hutom Penchar Naksha : I have not used a single idea that is fanciful or untrue in my sketches. It is true that some people might discover themselves in its pages, but I need hardly add that these are not themselves. All that I can say is that I have not aimed at anyone, but observed all. Indeed, I did not forget to include myself in these sketches. (Singha 1862 , p. 4) Such expression of self-ridicule is an effort towards producing a “narrative of identity” that is in itself subversive as Sudipta Kaviraj ( 2000, p. 388) referring to Bankim’s writings claims that Bankim strived to show the Bengali educated men “how to write himself out of babuness”: “He [Babu] is what is being written about, and he is also the self, who does the writing, and the more elusive experiment in escaping from the babu self by and through the act of writing itself.” 2 However, in the immediate post-independence period, as Sanjay Srivastava (2007 ) explains, the hegemonic masculinity was strongly linked to the nationalist economic development philosophy reifi ed in the formulation and implementation of the fi ve-year plans (FYP). The idea of a middle-class “epistemological masculinity” emerged from sites as the Doon school; Srivastava clarifi es, “The FYP hero represents, in a broad sense, a particular formulation of Indian masculinity where manliness comes to attach not to bodily representations or aggressive behaviour but, rather, to being ‘scientifi c’ and ‘rational’” (2007 , p. 141). The notion of the FYP hero, I wish to suggest, can be perceived as a postcolonial displacement of the “martial Indian” of colonial period, in terms of its hegemonic status. Citing examples from popular Hindi cinemas of the 1950s, Srivastava points out that often the Indian postcolonial male is portrayed as a doctor, engineer, scientist, or a bureaucrat to reify the notion of national progress and development and mostly a provincial bourgeois middle-class male rather than an utterly metropolitan male. “This is linked to the specifi c conditions of Indian post-coloniality in which the vast majority of the provincial bourgeoisie has lacked the avenues for the acqui- sitions of ‘cultural capital,’” in other words it meant “a situation where ‘technical’ qualifi cations are the prime means of social advancement for the provincial middle classes” (Srivastava 2007 , p. 144). Hence, in the same trajectory, it is possible to identify two distinct categories of bhadralok commonly derived from both kinship arrangements and educational attainment over generations: abhij āta or well-bred, aristocratic bhadralok and s dharon or average bhadralok . The abhijāta bhadralok can be defi ned as those Making the Global Bhadralok : Bengali Men… 123

“who hold more liberal humanist values, are culturally open and internationally aware and concerned, and are cosmopolitan in outlook” (Scrase 2002 , p. 328). Abhijāta bhadralok can be conceived, albeit loosely, as embodying the specifi cities of the “transnational middle-class masculinity,” a term which I shall delineate in the next section. On the contrary, s ādharon bhadralok usually embody “more conservative moral values, are provincial-minded and show a strong concern for the supposed moral decline of Indian society and a decline in Bengali culture, customs and language” (Scrase 2002 , p. 328). These categories become crucial to understand, as I explain in the course of this chapter, the “crossover mode” or the processes of shift in cultural identity as well as in the gendered subjectivity of the Bengali, amidst the changes ushered in the post-liberalization period. However, I use the term “crossover” with a specifi c approach in mind. I borrow the term from popular Indian fi lm terminology. “Crossover” denotes a kind of liminality: the performative space that was also present even in the colonial period. This crossover mode has an intriguing relation with economy, class affi liation, and popular media discourse, which I explore in the following sections. It stands in opposition with the usual notion of hybridity as well as a specifi c category of identity. Similarly, I use the term “mode” to identify the conscious way or manner in which something occurs or is experienced and expressed, more importantly, as an agential option, allowing a change in the method of operation. Thus, crossover denotes a conscious phase of transition, as if by crossing this phase one will reach the desired position, which in effect is a phantasmatic promise. Hence the problems and diffi - culties are pacifi ed since those are seemingly transitory, but at the same time, become the focus of debate since they would ostensibly have a formative infl uence in the modality of that promise. Thus cultural hybridity becomes saleable in the package of “crossover.”

Reconsidering Hegemonic Masculinity: Transnational Business Masculinity or Transnational Middle-Class Masculinity

Before we move on to the fi ner nuances of bhadralok masculinity, it is important to locate it in relation to the notion of hegemonic masculinity. R. W. Connell (1995 ), drawing from Gramsci’s analysis of economic class relations through the operation of cultural dynamics, defi nes hegemonic masculinity as “the confi guration of gender practice which embodies the currently accepted answer to the problem of legitimacy of patriarchy, which guarantees (or is taken to guarantee) the dominant position of men and the subordination of women” (p. 77). In the wake of globalization, the notion of hegemonic masculinity has also received greater reconsideration by Men Studies scholars and especially by Connell, whose recent research specifi - cally focuses on the relationship between globalization and hegemonic forms of masculinity. Connell’s conceptualization of “transnational business masculinity” 124 S. Chattopadhyay has enabled the identifi cation of the global hegemonic role of a monolithic top- down masculinity in order to make sense of how certain forms of masculine identity have emerged as a global phenomenon, underscoring the hegemonic position of a transnational business elite. The formative infl uence of the neoliberal globalization that shaped the hegemonic form of masculinity, at least recently, has received substantial academic interest. A number of Masculinity Studies scholars point out that the modern-day expressions of a hegemonic masculine identity can be observed in the offi ces of investment banks, the board rooms of multinational corporations, and the business class lounges of international airports (Kimmel 2005 ). To make sense of these manifestations, it is necessary to acknowledge the “relation of masculinities to those emerging dominant powers in the global capitalist economy, the transnational corporations” (Connell et al. 2005 , p. 9). In other words, globalization has initiated a conscious and systematic re-articulation of national hegemonic masculinities into the global arena that invests in the formation of, what has been termed, a “global gender order.” These men are, characteristically, very atomistic, aggressively competitive, and essentially attempt to steer clear of social or personal obligations. Here, it is important to note that Connell has used the term “hegemonic masculinity” to describe the “confi guration of gender practice” rather than a specifi c “type” of masculinity; nonetheless, often the term is being used to designate specifi c “type” of masculinity. Such readings undermine the possibility that existing hegemony may take effect even with a lack of a specifi c underlying approach about men. This is especially evident since globalizing forces do not allow the various defi nitions and constructions of the agenda on men to remain static. The emergence of the transnational capitalist class, as Leslie Sklair (2001 ) has explained, has an overriding concern for endorsing the “culture ideology of consumerism” which is pivotal for the proliferation of the global capitalist system. However, with their effort to bolster consumption, the transnational capitalist class, in effect, shape the transnational middle class that is motivated towards cosmopolitan consumption and are the mainstay of the capitalist system (Derné 2008 , p. 119). Drawing from Weberian social theory, Liechty states that the middle class construct their identity “in opposition to its class others, above and below” as they maintain a moral distance from “mere” laboring and “mere” wealth. Rather, the middle class stakes their “identity on its accomplishments and refi nement, moral discourses that it pursues largely through its privileged access to goods and services (from education to fashions) in the ‘free’ market” (Liechty 2003 , pp. 15–17). This transnational middle class, as Steve Derné (2008 ) mentions, defi nes itself in opposition to class others on a global fi eld. By the consumption of products and services that may imitate the lifestyles of the cosmopolitan consumers of developed cities in the West and at the same time, distancing themselves from the vulgar tastes and arrangements of poor Indians, well-heeled Indians seek to perform to be a transnational middle class. Thus transnational middle-class identity is ingrained more in shared consumption than in a shared relationship to the productive system and also in cosmopolitan gender arrangements, which give women freedom as consumers. These local gender arrangements follow the social practices of the consuming classes in the West and distance themselves from the local arrangements of poorer Making the Global Bhadralok : Bengali Men… 125

Indians (Derné 2008 , pp. 120–121). Therefore, instead of applying the concept of “transnational business masculinity” in the Indian context, the notion of the “transnational middle-class masculinity” may prove to be more useful to understand the hegemonic reorientations under globalization in developing nations. Hence, in this chapter, I seek to deviate from the perception that globalization and hegemonic masculinity are essentially monolithic top-down forces, to enable an analysis of the confl icting and changing nature of gendered subjectivity at the global as well as the local level and especially in the rapidly developing, multilingual, multiethnic country like India, to underline the various trajectories through which the image of hegemonic masculinities are reinterpreted, negotiated, and recast. Although, I hasten to add that I do not intend to assert that the idea of hegemony is not helpful in critically analyzing men. Rather, I argue that a refor- mulation of the concepts like “transnational business masculinity” is necessary to accommodate the complex and interconnected nodes of class associations, changing economic conditions and the formative infl uence of the media that are in play in the developing nations amidst globalization. Such reconfi gurations, as I will argue, may open up categories like the “national,” the “global,” and even the “masculine” as empty signifi ers, invested with the phantasmatic promise that governs specifi c ways of being and dominant collective and individual social practices. I also focus on the involvement of the local popular media and especially news media that plays a constitutive role in the formation of these hegemonic identity categories. As the identities are constructed within representations, not outside them it follows that the representations themselves have become a site and an object of struggle in negotiating and contesting identity (Hall 1997 ). In other words, a struggle for identity entails a struggle for the very articulation of that identity. Meanings also regulate and organize our conduct and practices. They help to set the rules, norms, and conventions by which social life is ordered and governed. They are also, therefore, what those who wish to govern and regulate the conduct and ideas of others seek to structure and shape. In other words, the question of meaning arises in relation to all the different moments or practices in our “cultural circuit”— in the construction of identity and the marking of difference, in production and consumption, as well as in the regulation of social conduct (Hall 1997 ). Thus, representations do play a constitutive role, not merely a refl exive or after-the-event one.

Modernity and Its Discontents: Deploying the Crossover Mode

At present, bhadralok are more heterogeneous and are not necessarily wealthy in contrast to being a fairly prosperous, learned, and highly cultured status group for two centuries. It is important to note that it was only after the Partition of Bengal that the downfall of the bhadralok began and is not particularly an outcome of globalization. Nevertheless, they continue to consider education as an indispensable aspect, especially for their children, and often try to espouse an appearance of their once elite social status by engaging in writing, music, and the arts. However, 126 S. Chattopadhyay contemporary economic conditions mean that their fondness for cultural pursuit, once regarded as a marker of status, is disappearing: “Instead the desire for conspicuous consumption has slowly but surely become a major status determinant throughout Bengal” (Scrase 1993 , p. 26). It is once again important to remind us that presently the category of the bhadralok predominantly designates a middle-class educated urban male. While the Indian middle class is considered almost as the “national” class in India, in reality, they are more divided by language, religion, and social position than any other in the world (Beteille 2001 ). However, notwithstanding the questionable empirical entity of the Indian middle class, they, taken as both a performative and a discursive space, are unquestionably a reality to be reckoned with (Liechty 2003 ). 3 However, the account of the evident shift from an “old” middle class to the “new” middle classes is not merely descriptive. On the contrary, it contains a string of normative positions and critiques. Possibly the most palpable symptom of this is that “the discourse on the Indian middle classes appears fi rst and foremost in registers of paradox and contradiction” (Mazzarella 2003 , p. 4). The Indian media primarily address the middle classes as they seem to be caught in a moment of crossover, between tradition and modernity, global-local, past-present, urban-rural, rational- emotional, old-new, and similar series of binaries. And this position of in- betweenness is not entirely adverse but, at times, evidently sought after. For instance, J m i Shasthi , a popular ritual among Bengali families, becomes the site where these anxieties over tradition and modernity emerge. 4 A full page lead article on J āmāi Shasthi, written by popular Bengali author, Sanjib Chattopadhyay, in a Bengali special supplement of The Times of India begins: The life of Bengali has changed drastically. The days of weak Bengali are gone. Dhuti , Punjabi, back-brushed oil soaked hair, puffy cheeks, thick lips, a few stains of beetle juice on teeth, a little potbellied - this typical image of the Bengali men’s body has disappeared. That is the reason, why an old ritual of the Bengali people gradually disappearing in the backstage. (Chattopadhyay 2010a , p. B1) 5 Lamenting about the waning popularity of this ritual among modern Bengali families, the author raises a number of aspects that mark modern Bengali men—the disintegration of the joint family, migration to developed countries, lack of time due to work pressure of a neoliberal private sector. However, he asserts: “even though it is diffi cult to observe the day, it is more diffi cult to entirely forget about it” (Chattopadhyay 2010a , p. B2). One of the ways to explain the media obsession with the disappearing practices that seemingly distinguished educated middle-class Bengali men is to look at it as an attempt to gratify the narcissism of the aspiring middle class, who have lately emerged as an effect of the fl ourishing consumer goods markets. And at the same time, it is important to note that the discourse on the Bengali bhadralok entails an element of social anxiety emerging within neoliberal conditions, especially the anxiety regarding self-representation, and self-criticism of Bengali men again entails a sense of crossover from the personal and “moral” to the unequivocally public and hence “immoral.” The normative, hegemonic contour of being the Making the Global Bhadralok : Bengali Men… 127

bhadralok rigidly defi nes the limits of the public and the private that is in turn intrinsically associated with the notions of morality. The harsh sense of Bengali morality is criticized in a number of editorials and op-ed articles; in one such feature story, the author laments that there are hardly any autobiographies of a Bengali where his public, private, and secret life are candidly exposed—a small yet crucial aspect of modernity: “The problem with scandal-mongering Bengali is that he is so psychologically puerile that he makes moral judgments almost everywhere” (Chakrobarty 2010 , p. A6). Nevertheless, here it is important to note that middle-class Bengali men are more and more being criticized from those who are themselves middle-class Bengali men. Therefore, undeniably, the critique of the middle class is essentially a middle- class phenomenon as the middle classes are usually conceived as the “unhappy” classes, the “complaining” classes, and the “hypocritical” classes (Mazzarella 2000 ). Hence, although Bengali cultural identity is marked by a sense of crossover, a moment of in-betweenness, the newspapers in its editorial columns and feature articles continue to critique the “unsuccessful” performative attempt to become truly modern, urban, global man. There are various sites, cultural as well as sociopolitical, where such discontent manifests itself. An important and recurrent trope is the crossover from rural to the urban, in other words, from traditional/local to modern/global. An editorial published in Anandabazar Patrika , the largest circu- lated Bengali broadsheet daily newspaper, dwells on the question of urbanity of the Bengali in the context of corporation election and civic sense of the Bengali: Is Kolkata free from its parochialism even in the twenty-fi rst century? No! Bengali’s Kolkata is actually a large village …. The right attitude of the citizenship must be acquired. Bengali people have not acquired it. They remain rustic even though they live in a metropolis. They break the traffi c rules while driving their two-wheeler or four-wheeler. They act silly in shopping malls. They create problems for the others to get immediate advantage in public transportation … all these are indicators of their parochial nature. (ABP 2010a , p. A18) This is only one example of such numerous editorials that underline the discontent with “modern” bhadralok ’s non-modern civic sense. Undeniably, these editorials can be treated as an extension of the common cause of the “new” and the “old” middle classes in an urban politics of “livability,” especially an anxiety regarding neighborhood, its cleanliness, and decency, a politics that forcefully condemn the lack of “civility” which spoils the modernity of the third world metropolis (Chakrabarty 1992 ; Kaviraj 1997 ). Hence, such issues like hawkers on the pave- ment, garbage, and traffi c problems evidently acquire almost equal importance parallel to the major “newsworthy” national issues of economic development, education, and poverty, in journalistic writings. At the same time, it can be said that the news media attempts to highlight how the successful “crossover” from the parochial, conformist Bengali masculinity to the global, cosmopolitan masculinity is caught up by the historically conservative nature of Bengali men. For instance, a feature story cites past events such as banning English language as a subject in primary schools, resistance against private investments in industry in Bengal, and Jyoti Basu’s refusal, the former chief minister of Bengal, of accepting the prospect 128 S. Chattopadhyay of being the prime minister of India. The feature story forcefully asserts that these “historical mistakes” have made the lives of the present-day Bengalis even more diffi cult (Bhattacharya 2009 )—a reminder of the colonial rhetoric about the historically weak Bengali men and their uneasiness to embrace anything new and challenging. This recurring discontent also seems useful to identify that there is an intricate link between liberalization and political engagement, particularly when it entails the issues of public discourse on the modern middle-class Bengali male.

Neoliberal Hegemony and the Bhadralok Masculinity

One of the predictable aspects of consumer society is the unbounded aspirations unlocked within the post-liberalization market and their corollary: severe exaspera- tion and frustrations. However, as Mazzarella ( 2003) explains, in India, the critical, often vigorously insolent discourse on the Indian middle classes is a result of a number of sociopolitical and economic reasons, such as “the marginal privilege of the middle classes, the historical legacy the ‘old’ middle class as a nationalist vanguard, and the extraordinary disparities of wealth and educational attainment that continue to prevail at a national level” (p. 3). Hence, it is not surprising that Bengali bhadralok behavior is identiﬁ ed as symptomatic of the social incongruity that emerges from the complex negotiation with Indian modernity amidst neoliberal conditions. Such fundamental contradictions, to mention a few cases in point, are between laziness versus discipline, the affective versus the rational, and the emotional versus the logical. For instance, āddā becomes a crucial point of intervention in such debate. Roughly speaking, ā ddā is the practice of friends sitting together for prolonged, informal, and languid conversations. Dipesh Chakrabarty explains: By many standards of judgments in modernity, adda is a ﬂ awed social practice: it is predominantly male in its modern form in public life; it is oblivious of the materiality of labor in capitalism; and middle-class addas are usually forgetful of the working classes. Some Bengalis even see it as a practice that promotes sheer laziness in the population. (Chakrabarty 2000 , p. 181) In a feature article on the renovation of Kolkata Coffee House, an emblematic place for the Bengali intelligentsia for their intellectually invigorating extended āddā sessions, the self-critical mode of journalistic writing underlines Bengali’s characteristic inclination towards incessant ā ddā and disinterest in manual labor: For the last few decades, Coffee House provided the solitary scaffold for the intellectual development of Bengalis. If it wasn’t for Coffee House, Bengalis couldn’t be what they are now …. Actually discussion is intrinsic to the Bengalis. Whatever the topic, Bengali will produce discussions like fountain. But no one knows what is going to happen after all these discussions. (Mukhopadhyay 2009b , p. A18) Thus āddā is often seen as something quintessentially Bengali, as an indispensable part of Bengali men’s life, or “as an integral part of such metaphysical notions as ‘life’ and ‘vitality’ for the Bengalis” (Chakrabarty 2000 , p. 182). But, by neither Making the Global Bhadralok : Bengali Men… 129

fi rmly endorsing āddā as a cultural specifi city of the Bengali nor entirely disregarding it, such approach locates it in a liminal position. As a particular, somewhat necessary, point in the crossover mode—from provincial, leisurely bhadralok to transnational, professional bhadralok— this “particular way of dwelling in modernity, almost a zone of comfort in capitalism” (p. 213), is increasingly problematic for discourse on modernity and capitalism. Thus, while bhadralok masculinity may have certain similarities with the hegemonic salaryman masculinity of Japan (Dasgupta 2003 )—since both of them con- note a distinct image of a married man who embodies the characteristics of being a loyal productive worker, the primary economic provider for the household, a reproductive husband and a father—the suited, white-collar offi ce worker or business executive, salaryman image that was associated with Japan’s economic transformation following Second World War is not entirely analogous to modern Bengali men, even within discernible effects of globalization. Still prevalent practices like ā ddā, lack of managerial ability (both bodily and professionally) and competitive individualism that are the markers of Bengali bhadralok masculinity are some of the points of incongruities that posit Bengali men in a contradictory position to the standard notion of the hegemonic transnational business masculinity. In a similar manner, the primacy of affective over the rational becomes a site of discontent for the performative cultural identity of the modern Bengali (Chattopadhyay 2010b ). A number of newspaper reports recurrently critique this predisposition; for example, the nature of groupism of Bengali is criticized in the context of the game of football, a signifi cant cultural engagement of bhadralok . “The languid Bengali is incapable of imbibing the strict and rigorous training that is required. There is a chasm between the mere emotion and the actual physical activity that is required to accomplish the goal” (ABP 2010b, p. A4). A more political editorial addressing a controversy surrounding the photograph of Rabindranath Tagore and Subhash Chandra Bose in West Bengal government headquarters assert- ively remarks: “Bengali men have always given primacy to emotion over reason and they have felt especially complacent with it. And the emotion devoid of reason has installed photographs of Tagore and Netaji in government headquarters” (ABP 2009a, p. A4). In the same line, a comparative discussion on the involvement of Bengalis in the militant nationalism in the late colonial period and the Naxalite movement in the 1970s, another op-ed article, referring to Charles Augustus Tegart, a colonial police offi cer in India, states that “Bengalis are extremely sensitive and idealist. They are driven by intense emotions. They are exceptionally jittery about their self-respect. They are quick to react if one is able to hurt their self- esteem.” The article claims that merely a call for action does not wake Bengalis up. To break his slumber, there needs to be proper arrangements. A deeper understanding of the Bengali men’s psyche, his emotions and his sense of retribution, is needed for such call for action to be effective (Mukhopadhyay 2009a , p. A4). This dreamy- eyed idealism that goes in tandem with affective outpour is the focus of another editorial, titled Ram ānāther Santāndal [The Sons of Ramānāth], in which the bhadralok’s temperament of idealizing a lifestyle of simple living-high thinking is vehemently criticized: “Bengali men look at consumerism and capitalist culture 130 S. Chattopadhyay with a slight disdain and they visit the shopping mall away from the eyes of their neighbors” (ABP 2009b , p. A4). Criticizing the lingering communist regime in West Bengal, the editorial claims that if one earns by honest means then there is no harm in living a luxurious life. But Bengali men are reluctant to appreciate this: A simple logic of equating a rich person with a dishonest person is something that a Bengali man learns since his childhood. This outlook is refl ected everywhere including his literature and society. However globalization has destabilized this outlook. On one hand he knows that it is a sin to look at this “market,” on the other hand, the call of a better, global lifestyle is tantalizing him. A life of renouncement versus consumerism, revolutionary left ideology versus the open market for the good life—the Bengali is suffering from a persistent dilemma. (ABP 2009b , p. A4) Thus, the performative space that neoliberal conditions open up for the “new” Bengali men results not in producing a fi xed hybrid identity but a mode, or to be more specifi c a crossover mode, which evidently has an intriguing relation with politics, economy, culture, and popular media discourse. Also the crossover mode is inherently heterogeneous since it is recognized as an agential option, allowing a change in the processes of operation. Hence the problems and diffi culties are pacifi ed since those are seemingly transitory and seen as one of the several modes of crossover, but at the same time, become the focus of debate since they would ostensibly have a formative infl uence in the modality of that phantasmatic promise that the crossover entails. Since I borrow the term crossover from popular fi lm vocabulary, it is interesting to give a cursory look at how the Bengali fi lm industry, popularly referred as Tollywood, in its own way negotiates with this mode of crossover. 6 Research shows that in the wake of globalization and the infl uence of a consumer-oriented life promoted by economic liberalization and cultural globalization, the impact of cable and satellite television in the transformation of middle-class cultural identity in West Bengal has resulted in contradictory trends. Besides, this process is accelerated by preexisting anxiety within the metropolitan/provincial cultural divide in Bengali society (Scrase 2002 ). Hence it is not surprising that the sense of discontent and anxiety about modernity and cultural purity which looms over Bengali cinema can be read as emblematic of the anxiety regarding bhadralok masculinity. A survey by Anandabazar Patrika and Nielsen in 2010 to study whether Bengali cinema has matured over the last 90 years reveals that there are certain specifi c attributes that act as markers of modernity: a close study of the questionnaire points to some of the emblematic symptoms of the mode of crossover to understand and, more importantly, evaluate the “modern” or “new” Bengali cinema whether the fi lm songs are being played in night clubs; whether the fi lms are being shot in Venice, Greece, and other “global” locations; and whether Bengali fi lms are being shown in multiplexes are the dominant criterions of judging its “modernity,” but at the same time, there is an undercurrent of lamentation over the lack of Bengali-ness in the “new” Bengali cinema. “The urban middle-class bhadralok taste is losing its hegemony. And more, that class itself as a custodian of a certain culture is undergo- ing dissolution” (Biswas 2010 , p. 203). Moreover, the anxiety within the metropolitan/provincial cultural divide in Bengali society manifests itself as the survey makes it explicit that while the urban, middle-class bhadralok are discontented Making the Global Bhadralok : Bengali Men… 131 with contemporary mainstream Bengali fi lms, the socioeconomically backward classes have confi rmed that Bengali cinema has actually developed in the last few decades (ABP 2009c , p. B3). Even on television there is a continuing, essentially symbolic, effort to assert Bengali cultural identity. Satellite television is commonly perceived as a potential cultural threat, yet it is these satellite channels which consciously invest in this crossover mode by particularly producing certain programs—such as the spectacu- lar award shows, like She rā Bāngāli, that felicitate accomplished Bengalis and elaborate stage shows on specifi c Bengali occasions like Bengali New Year—obviously with substantial sums of sponsorship, which has its own logic within the neoliberal imperatives. Although, “foreign” is seen both in terms of non-Indian and non- Bengali (Scrase 2002 ), these programs refl ect an effort towards “negotiating globalization” albeit through the mode of crossover and not merely as cultural hybridity—they see themselves as not necessarily a passive subject within the process, rather they assume an agency, which may allow them to culturally locate themselves amidst the changes taking place. Thus, cultural hybridity becomes saleable in the package of “crossover.” To put it crudely, the sense of “becoming,” or in other words, the conscious recognition of their liminality and the acknowledgment of an active agency set apart the mode of crossover from the notion of hybridity. It is important to remember here that the bhadralok is only “constituted” by discourse but it does not mean that he is “determined” by discourse—“where determination forecloses the possibility of agency” (Butler 1990, p. 182). Bhadralok masculinity is not determined by the rules through which they are constituted because signifi cation is not a founding act, rather a normative, compulsive act of repetition, which is open to variations and/or failure. The discursive categories— to be a global, modern, urban, liberal, masculine self—in general signify a multiplicity of reiterative normative acts, in response to an array of different demands all at once. The idea of a hegemonic masculinity, especially within globalization, I suggest, is contingent upon such phantasmatic promise of “being masculine” and the deployment of the empty political signifi er, “global,” with the aim of sustaining arrangements for the proliferation of global capital. In other words, the Bengali bhadralok may only “have” masculinity that is a culturally specifi c stylized repetition of acts and that will always entail a sense of failure but may never “be” masculine, since it will remain a phantasmatic promise.

Conclusion

In this chapter I have argued that the discursive construction of bhadralok masculinity in news media and popular culture is being negotiated through the delineation of the mode of crossover. In contrast to cultural hybridity, the mode of crossover may become illustrative to understand in what way modernity and neoliberal values parallel an overwhelming cultural specifi city and constitute Bengali identity in contemporary Bengal. It is undeniable that the Bengali bhadralok has changed signifi - cantly in the twenty-fi rst century. A feature story on an editorial page even goes 132 S. Chattopadhyay to the extent of comparing this period with the Bengal renaissance: “the present era is witnessing a cultural transformation of the Bengalis which is similar to the formative cultural transformation of the nineteenth century Bengal” (Roy 2009 , p. A4). However, a central concern in the midst of emerging changes in the twenty-fi rst century is whether the “new Bengali” has got the appropriate cultural representation, especially in the vernacular. A sense of anxiety regarding popular Bengali literature, in the wake of globalization, resonates through this question. Referring to Bengali writers writing in English, such as Amitabha Ghosh, Amit Chaudhuri, and Jhumpa Lahiri, the chapter alleges that while these authors, to a certain extent, have been able to effectively portray the shifting Bengali-ness of the new millennium, there is an apparent lack of such adequate engagement with this shift, in the vernacular cultural practices: Whatever is available in the market as Bengali literature, fi lm, poetry, most of it is pleasant delusion. Even if the mobile phones start ringing, urban women chat on the internet and metropolitan men publicly proclaim their homosexuality that does not fairly portray the Bengali life in the twenty-fi rst century. The new Bengali and Bengali-ness is understood merely as specifi c practices. (Roy 2009 , p. A4) Hence, from social customs and local politics to mainstream fi lm and popular literature, a sense of discontent and the pursuit for overwhelming cultural specifi city do not allow new Bengali men to be content with simply the category of cultural hybridity; rather there is an enduring search for the mode(s) of crossover, which may fulfi ll the phantasmatic promise of neoliberal ideology. A popular music video on the launch of a Bengali entertainment channel “Star Jalsha” focuses on the notion of the new bhadralok . The video attempts to underline the “crossover” aspect of this “new Bengali-ness,” the global- bhadralok practices, by juxtaposing archetypal Bengali customs with emerging neoliberal attributes like shopping malls, swanky urban offi ce spaces, airport lounge, and skyscrapers. The lyrics explicitly assert: Let’s change! The new Bengali is calling you today Let’s change! Let’s write the song of the road on the way Let’s change. The concert of the new Bengali begins from today … just change, only change … The song is interspersed with popular Bengali celebrities saying “let’s change,” directly addressing the viewers, through the camera, which becomes an emblematic instance of this call to crossover to a more “modern,” cosmopolitan, global bhadralok identity, a call which may not be entirely new to Bengali men but certainly more overreaching than before. Making the Global Bhadralok : Bengali Men… 133

Notes

1. Since the early twentieth century the emergence of major nationalist resistance in Bengal provided a site for reconfi guration of Bengali masculine self. The Swadeshi movement, a con- certed campaign against the partition of Bengal and a period of revolutionary terrorism against the colonial rule with the involvement of a number of Bengali leaders to a certain extent countered the predominant notion of effeminate, non-aggressive Bengali male. But what is important, I believe, is to recognize that such expressions of manly aggressiveness was undeniably contingent upon a reinterpretation of the “past” that was often more mythic than historic. 2. For a detail study on the identity of Bengali and self-ironical literature in nineteenth century, see Kaviraj (2000 ). 3. It is perhaps wiser to be careful about what that prominent critic of the Indian middle classes, Pavan Varma, has called the “measurement fetish.” While it is increasingly diffi cult to socio- logically map the “reality” of the Indian middle classes, it is undeniable that the category has emerged as a crucial pointer of identifi cation, aspiration, and critique in present-day Indian public culture. 4 . Jāmāi Shasthi is a social custom in Bengal. On this day, sons-in-law are invited and honored by the in-laws and especially by the mother-in-law. “ Jāmāi ” means son-in-law, and “Shasti ” is the sixth day in a fortnight in a traditional Hindu calendar. The son-in-law is traditionally welcomed to the house and is offered gifts; also a variety of traditional food items are prepared in his honor. Goddess Shasthi is worshipped on the day for the well-being of the children. 5. Translations from Bengali to English are by the author. 6. Even the popular term Tollywood hints at this attempt. A rip-off of Hollywood, almost all the prominent regional fi lm industries have such names. However Bollywood to refer to Hindi fi lm industry based in Mumbai (formerly Bombay, from which the name is derived) remains the most popular one.

References

ABP. (2009a, February 2). Bangalir mukhyo mantri. Ananda Bazar Patrika , A4. ABP. (2009b, January 28). Ramānāther santāndal. Ananda Bazar Patrika , A4. ABP. (2009c, November 27). 90 bachoreo ki sabalok holo bangla cinema? Apnaar mot. Ananda Bazar Patrika , B3. ABP. (2010a, May 30). Bangalir nagorikata. Ananda Bazar Patrika, A4. ABP. (2010b, June 13). Bangalir football. Ananda Bazar Patrika , A4. Beteille, A. (2001, February 5). The Indian middle class. The Hindu. Retrieved January 3, 2011, from http://www.the-hindu.com/stories/05052523.htm. Bhattacharya, D. (2009, February 8). Bhuler paromporay dishehara Bangali. Ananda Bazar Patrika , A5. Biswas, M. (2010). Changing scenes. In M. Narula, S. Sengupta, J. Bagchi, R. Sundaram, et al. (Eds.), Sarai reader 08: Fear (pp. 196–205). Delhi: Center for the Study of Developing Societies. Buruma, I. (1986). A tale of two Bengals. Far Eastern Economic Review , 63–71. Butler, J. (1990). Gender trouble: Feminism and the subversion of identity . New York: Routledge. Chakrabarty, D. (1992). Of garbage, modernity and the citizen’s gaze. Econ Pol Wkly, 27 (10), 541–546. Chakrabarty, D. (2000). Provincializing Europe: Postcolonial thought and historical difference . Princeton: Princeton University Press. 134 S. Chattopadhyay

Chakrobarty, G. (2010, March 9). Lekhak nie adikhyeta barong jiboniti janoon. Ananda Bazar Patrika , A6. Chatterjee, P. (1997). The present history of West Bengal: Essays in political criticism . Delhi: Oxford University Press. Chattopadhyay, S. (2010, June 17) Inkilab my son jindabad. The Times of India , B1. Chattopadhyay, S. (2010b). Performative Bengali masculinity: The rhetoric of becoming in Bengali popular cinema of the 1950s. Studies in South Asian Film and Media, 2 (1), 3–17. Chattopadhyay, S. (2011). Bengali masculinity and the national-masculine. Some conjectures for interpretation. South Asia Research, 31 (3), 265–279. Chowdhury, I. (2001). The frail hero and virile history: Gender and the politics of culture in colonial Bengal . New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Connell, R. W. (1995). Masculinities . Cambridge: Polity. Connell, R. W., et al. (2005). Introduction. In M. Kimmel et al. (Eds.), Handbook of studies on men and masculinities (pp. 1–12). Thousand Oaks: Sage. Dasgupta, R. (2003). Creating corporate warriors: The “salaryman” and masculinity in Japan. In K. Louie & M. Low (Eds.), Asian masculinities: The meaning and practice of manhood in China and Japan (pp. 118–134). London: RoutledgeCurzon. Derné, S. (2008). Globalization on the ground: Media and the transformation of culture, class, and gender in India . New Delhi: Sage. Fernandes, L. (2000). Nationalizing “the global”: Media images, cultural politics and the middle class in India. Media, Culture and Society, 22 (5), 611–628. Ganguly-Scrase, R., & Scrase, T. J. (1999). A bitter pill or sweet nectar? Contradictory attitudes of salaried workers to economic liberalization in India. Development and Society, 28(2), 259–283. Hall, S. (Ed.). (1997). Representation: Cultural representations and signifying practices . London: Sage/Open University Press. Kaviraj, S. (1997). Filth and the public sphere: Concepts and practices about space in Calcutta. Public Culture, 10 (1), 83–113. Kaviraj, S. (2000). Laughter and subjectivity: The self-ironical tradition in Bengali literature. Modern Asian Studies, 34 (2), 379–406. Kimmel, M. (2005). Globalization and its mal(e)contents: The gendered moral and political economy of terrorism. In M. Kimmel et al. (Eds.), Handbook of studies on men & masculinities (pp. 414–431). Thousand Oaks: Sage. Liechty, M. (2003). Suitably modern: Making middle-class culture in a new consumer society. Princeton . Princeton: Princeton University Press. Mazzarella, W. (2000). Middle Class. Keywords in South Asian Studies. SOAS. http://www.soas. ac.uk/southasianstudies/keywords/ﬁ le24808.pdf . Accessed 19 March 2012. Mazzarella, W. (2003). Shoveling smoke: Advertising and globalization in contemporary India . Durham: Duke University Press. Mukherjee, S. (1975). Bhadralok in Bengali language and literature: An essay on the language of class and status. Bengal Past and Present, 95 (2), 225–237. Mukhopadhyay, A. (2009, April 28). Bangali jagoyi jotheshto noy. Ananda Bazar Patrika, A4. Mukhopadhyay, S. (2009, April 9). Coffee house e shuru coffee house ei shesh. Ananda Bazar Patrika , A18. Rosseli, J. (1980). The self image of effeteness: Physical education and nationalism in nineteenth century Bengal. Past and Present, 86 , 121–148. Roy, B. (2009, January 15). Mobile, chat, samokamita? etukui notun bangaliana? Ananda Bazar Patrika , A4. Scrase, T. J. (1993). Image, ideology and inequality: Cultural domination, hegemony and schooling in India . Newbury Park: Sage. Scrase, T. J. (2002). Television, the middle classes and the transformation of cultural identities in West Bengal, India. International Communication Gazette, 64 (4), 323–342. Singha, K. (1862). Hutom penchar naksha . Calcutta: Basumati Sahitya Mandir. Making the Global Bhadralok : Bengali Men… 135

Sinha, M. (1995). Colonial masculinity: The ‘manly Englishman’ and the ‘effeminate Bengali’ in the late nineteenth century . Manchester: Manchester University Press. Sklair, L. (2001). The transnational capitalist class . Oxford: Blackwell. Srivastava, S. (2007). Constructing post-colonial India: National character and the Doon School . London: Routledge. Better Men? Gendered Culturalized Citizenship in Male Emancipation Projects in the Netherlands

Iris van Huis

Constructing Masculinity in Male Emancipation Projects

After a focus on migrant women’s emancipation in the Netherlands (Roggeband and Verloo 2007 ), migrant men have also become a speciﬁ c target group of Dutch culturalized citizenship politics. The increased attention on men with a migrant background can be seen as a continuation of a process of culturalized citizenship that has been going on in the past 20 years in the Netherlands and in many other countries (Geschiere 2009 , pp. 130–168; Duyvendak et al. 2010 ; Duyvendak 2011 , pp. 92–94). In the Netherlands, public debate on integration has become culturalized since the 1990s, meaning there has been a shift from socioeconomic views on integration to a demand for cultural integration, which results in state institutions involved not only in what citizens do but also in what they think and feel and how they are expected to behave as men and women. Gender norms, for example, identifying the roles women should have in their families and in society, have an increased importance in integration discussions and policy interventions aimed at migrants. Moreover, in public debate, as well as policy, gender norms are presented as connected to national identity, inventing a “Dutchness” that was not present before (de Leeuw and van Wichelen 2012 , p. 199; Verkaaik 2010 ; Mepschen et al. 2010 , p. 968). Roggeband and Verloo (2007 ) have shown that in policy documents and parliamentary debates, migrant women and their daughters are predominantly reﬂ ected as victims of “traditional” men and men as the ones hampering their development. At the same time, the sons of migrants are often framed as being inclined toward criminality and radicalization ( Turlings 2012 , p. 18). Besides this culturalization of debate and policy, there is also a tendency for the state to be more intervention orientated in the lives of citizens, especially in less

I. van Huis, Ph.D. Candidate (*) Department of Political Science, Institute for Management Research , Radboud University Nijmegen, Thomas van Aquinostraat 5 , P.O. Box 9108 , Nijmegen 6525 GD , Netherlands e-mail: [email protected]

J. Gelfer (ed.), Masculinities in a Global Era, International and Cultural Psychology 4, 137 DOI 10.1007/978-1-4614-6931-5_8, © Springer Science+Business Media New York 2014 138 I. van Huis affl uent neighborhoods, with relatively high migrant populations. This “new paternalistic” state tries to see and infl uence what goes on behind front doors in deprived city areas. Street-level bureaucrats carry out house calls to be able to reach residents that are not yet in contact with institutions that aim to help or discipline them (Metaal et al. 2010 ). The Dutch state organizes education programs for parents (usually mothers) to infl uence the upbringing of children (van den Berg and Duyvendak 2012 ). Moreover, civic integration courses have become compulsory for new immigrants since the 1990s. This policy has changed from one that aims at self-reliance of new immigrants to one that increasingly concerns learning about progressive norms like gender equality and acceptance of homosexuality but also informal rules such as how to properly have contact with your neighbors (do not visit without fi rst making an appointment) and where to put your garbage. Besides these changes in content, succeeding or failing examinations have dramatic consequences for access to Dutch residence permits (van Huis and de Regt 2005 ; van Houdt et al. 2011 ). The focus on migrant women has received criticism in parliament as well as in the social work fi eld. In 2008 the Dutch minister of education, culture, and science, who also is responsible for “emancipation policy” (Dutch gender equality policy), in response formulated his “Plan for the man” ( Plan voor de man), which resulted in a policy that fi nanced father centers in 14 cities in the Netherlands. Van de Haar (2012 ) shows how this plan changed the policy discourse on migrant men from one where they before were framed as hampering their wives’ progress to framing of migrant men as “vulnerable and in need of help” themselves. Not long after this father center policy, in 2011, a large funding organization, the Oranje Fonds, started funding 23 projects that aim to “emancipate” men and let them participate more as citizens in society and as fathers and partners in their families and to let them refl ect on themselves “as men.” The funding organization started their funding program after calls from women, who were participating in their other social projects. These women, according to professionals in the fi eld, asked them to “do something for (and about) their men” (all fi eldwork translations are mine). The projects for men, organized by welfare organizations, migrant organizations, and women’s organizations, offer interesting insights in the practice of culturalization of citizenship and in how gender and citizenship are being constructed in microscale interactions between professionals and participants. In this chapter, I focus on the role of masculinity in the emancipation projects. How are masculinities being performed, presented, and debated in male emancipation projects in the Netherlands by professionals as well as participants? In what way do professionals try to change (migrant) men’s masculinities? How do ethnic norms, and dominant norms, sometimes presented as Dutch norms, intersect with gender norms? To what extent is there room for diversity, and when are dominant norms presented as better ways to be a man in the Netherlands and, in accordance, can be seen as a practice of gendered culturalization of citizenship? Better Men? Gendered Culturalized Citizenship in Male Emancipation Projects... 139

Methodology and Theory

Gender and ethnicity, seen from an interpretive, constructivist perspective, are socially constructed and subject to change. Although gender is not fi xed and reduc- ible to biology, biological characteristics infl uence the way people categorize themselves and others, because of the meanings we give to physical differences (Walby 2011, p. 103). It is important to recognize that people often see gender and ethnicity (in an essentialist way) as categories with fi xed corresponding characteristics and behavior but also that people in daily lives and in professional situations de- essentialize and transform gender practices and norms as well as ethnical and national boundaries. Reifi ed categories are an important part of the world and should therefore be studied, not as if they were wrong, but “to understand how they work, why people use them, and what people want to achieve with them” (Baumann 1999 , pp. 90–91). The categories I mainly focus on here concern masculinities. Connell defi nes masculinities as “confi gurations of practice structured by gender relations.” She sees the making and remaking of masculinity as a political process and stresses that masculinities develop historically, in social relations between the sexes, but also in social relations between men. In this political process some masculinities become more dominant than others. This has consequences for the way people reify the gender boundaries they construct (Connell 2010 , pp. 44, 76). In the fi eld I study, male emancipation projects in the Netherlands, masculinities are being constructed by professionals who try to make sense of the people they work with—low-educated mostly migrant men—in order to be able to reach, help, and infl uence them. Masculinities are, however, also formed in interactions between professionals and participants of the projects, who have their own historically formed gender norms, practices, and identities. Existing professional repertoires and the wider Dutch discursive context of public discussions concerning citizenship, gender, and ethnicity (and religion) also infl uence the masculinities that are constructed, but are out of the scope of this contribution. The fi eldwork data presented in this chapter are collected in an ongoing research on 23 projects for male emancipation in which I (with Mieke Verloo and Marleen van der Haar) follow the projects for 2 years by studying project plans, performing in-depth interviews with project professionals on (at least) two moments, observing several times each project, and doing life history interviews with participants of the projects. The data presented here consist for the most part of participant observations at 16 projects and an educational meeting for professionals, organized by the funding organization. I will also draw from the fi rst 23 in-depth interviews with project professionals. I am involved in the research as a junior researcher and will use the data for my Ph.D. research on doing gender and ethnicity in male emancipation projects. The men that participate in the 23 projects differ in many ways. According to documents of the funding organization that fi nances these 23 emancipation projects, the target group consists of low-educated and “socially isolated” men. 140 I. van Huis

Dutch natives as well as men with a migrant background can participate, “preferably in a mixed group with allochthonous as well as autochthonous men and boys” (Oranje Fonds 2010 , p. 3, my translation) (the ethnical mix is in accordance with loss of popularity of multiculturalism). In practice, most participants have a migrant background, and there are ethnically diverse projects as well as more ethnically homogenous ones that receive funding. There are, for example, projects for fathers with a Moroccan background with young children, projects for men with an Afro-Caribbean background (from the former Dutch Antilles), and for ethnically mixed groups of men with partly white native Dutchmen. “Social isolation” is defi ned in a broad way by the professionals who organize the projects. Men are “socially isolated,” according to the professionals, when they do not have a job, or do not participate in volunteer work, but also if they have a family or, for example, visit coffeehouses to play checkers. Social isolation, in other words, is often used as another word for ethnic segregation. Some professionals see “social isolation” in a rather psychological way and emphasize that although you have a family and visit social environments, you can still feel “socially isolated”, or lonely. About half of the professionals are men, about half of them (men and women) have a migrant background themselves, and most have had a higher vocational training in social work. Access to the projects was made through the project professionals and has been fairly easy. At one project, there was diffi culty accessing the group, because according to the professionals, the participants did not want outsiders to come to the group where they discuss delicate topics. In the other projects, there seems to be little objection against an observant being present (as a female, whitish—my dark hair and eyes often make people question my ethnic background—educated, note-taking woman in her early 30s). An explanation for being accepted as a female observant is that many of the professionals are women. When representing participants and professionals for this study, I have chosen to attribute ethnic classifi cations, in order to represent the ethnic diversity of the project. Naturally, these men and women are diverse in more ways: they have a certain age and a social economic background, some have families, etc., but for legibil- ity I have often limited the descriptions to ethnicity. The ethnic categories I use are a mix of ethnic, racial, and geographical classifi cations, sometimes based on self- identifi cation, sometimes by the project professional, and sometimes by country of origin, depending on what I know about these men. When representing native “white Dutch people,” I add the racial classifi cation “white” because many of the migrants have Dutch citizenship as well and can therefore be considered Dutch. Also, I usually will say someone has, for example, a “Turkish ethnic background,” instead of identifying him or her as “Turkish,” not knowing to what extent Turkishness is relevant for his or her self-identifi cation. This somewhat messy way of classifying does more justice to the diversity of the people in this study than using dichotomies such as black and white, migrant and nonmigrant, or “autochtoon” and “allochtoon,” which is nowadays very common in the Netherlands (Yanow and Van der Haar 2013 ). Better Men? Gendered Culturalized Citizenship in Male Emancipation Projects... 141

Masculinities in Projects for Male Emancipation

In the projects for male emancipation, gender norms, as well as “emancipation,” are perceived by the professionals to be diffi cult and non-self-evident topics to discuss with their target groups. However, the fact that the projects are for men makes a difference. The professionals explain they approach men differently than women. Some deliberately hire men to give trainings, or organize their projects in a different way than they would for women. The funding organization guides the professionals to be conscious of the gender specifi city of the projects by organizing expert meetings that focus on masculinity. In a kick-off meeting for the professionals, a “masculinity expert” from a large Dutch knowledge center and training organization gives a presentation on how to work with men. The aim of his presentation is to offer the organizations “knowledge” on masculinity and male communication and learning styles, which they can use in their projects. Most delegated professionals at this meeting have a social work background; some are representatives of women’s organizations or migrant organizations. Twenty-three of them are women and 18 men and of varied ethnic background, half of them white Dutch people, and the others are with Turkish, Caribbean Hindustan, Afro-Caribbean, North African, or other backgrounds. The presenter is a white Dutch man of about 50 years old, who has a background in andragogy and training welfare workers. Central in his presentations are “codes of masculinity,” which he derived from his experience in and research on welfare work with men since the 1980s. His “codes of masculinity,” according to him, represent dominant heterosexual practices and norms, identifying what behavior is acceptable for men. The codes describe men as competing, aggressive, independent beings who do not like to share feelings, want to have things under control, think they do not need help, and experience intimacy mostly by sexuality. A man, according to these “codes,” needs to earn a living for the ones that depend on him; he has to help them and protect them. The presenter explains that the codes are basically “qualities” that men can fall back on in stressful situations: “but when you slip out to one side you have passivity and when you slip to the other side you have over- activity. You have to fi nd a balance.” The audience, women as well as men, respond critically to the presenter. Some want to know if these “codes” are to be changed: “Do men have to become women, or do men have to become stronger?” (note the assumed contradiction), and if they have to be changed, is it for the better of men or women? “Don’t we also have to look at what women want?” The presenter remonstrates this clearly: “It’s about the interest of men! Counteracting domestic violence, an absent father etc., is not in the interest of men. The consequences for women come in second place.” He states that in projects, you can deliberate with men about which codes are important for them and what they would like to change, but he emphasizes that the men you work with, themselves, have to decide what needs to be changed. The most important aim of the projects, according to the presenter, is to connect men with each other. Women, in his opinion, more easily create bonds with each 142 I. van Huis other and, in this way, fi nd solutions to their problems. He expects that men, when brought together, will do the same. The presenter wants to make clear, however, that this does not mean that men have to sit in “female-like groups.” They need to bond “in a masculine way,” taking into account the “codes of masculinity,” implying that the men have to come in action, and have other ways of communicating and learning: “men need to struggle, to debate, before they learn something.” The masculinity constructed in this professionalization meeting emphasizes differences between men and women. On the one hand the differences are presented as roles men and women have, assuming a continuation of the breadwinner model. On the other hand, however, the presenter anchors this “difference approach” in biology and prehistory, arguing that testosterone and prehistoric roles cause men to be active, aggressive, goal-oriented hunters: stating it is something men “fall back on” in stressful situations. Although the presenter does bring some nuances, for example, by stating that “there are more differences between men, then between men and women” and by explaining that “gender is only one of the core diversity dimensions, beside class, religion, sexual preference, ethnicity, age and physical ability,” during the whole presentation, differences between men and women are enlarged and often reifi ed. The other dimensions of diversity, or other possible masculinities, are not further mentioned in the presentation except by questions of the audience. Seemingly, it is part of the presentation style of the presenter to bring a bold message which can be fi red upon by the audience (resembling what he explains to be a male learning style). Overall, masculinity is presented in a rather static and generalizing way. The training at the kick-off meeting and the reactions show that masculinity is being essentialized at crucial moments, while at other moments it is de-essentialized. Project professionals are stimulated to adapt their projects to the masculinity that was constructed by the “masculinity expert,” in order to be able to recruit men and to be able to let men learn, assuming they all learn in similar ways. The professionals, however, do not simply accept what they are told but refl ect on it in a critical way during the kick-off meeting as well as afterward, as expressed during the interviews. For some, the day reinforced essentialist views on masculinity they already had, others realized they want to work with masculinities in a de-essentializing way, by accepting men that do not conform to dominant norms or by trying to break through dominant norms. The ways of working with masculinities in the expert meetings, as well as in the projects, can be analytically divided into three: as a starting point (something they as professionals have to adapt to), as a problem (when men have to change characteristics or behavior that are seen as masculine), and as a solution (using what is seen as masculine as a positive qualifi cation that needs to be reinforced). The last two, masculinity as a problem and a solution, cover the area where the professionals are trying to change men and let them conform to certain norms, normalizing them (Foucault 1977 ), and/or handing them more space for alternative masculinities. Better Men? Gendered Culturalized Citizenship in Male Emancipation Projects... 143

Sequences of Attraction and Attachment of Men: Reiﬁ ed Masculinities as Starting Points

An important difference between projects that are organized for men and projects for women, according to the professionals that organize them, is that they are built on the assumptions that men talk less, are goal oriented, and want to be active. Some organizations are inspired to do so by the “codes of masculinity,” mentioned above. They use the “codes” in a reifi ed way as a starting point for their project, assuming they are working in a bottom-up manner by taking into account what men want and how men “work,” but predominantly based on what they know from a “masculinity expert” and not by asking the men themselves. Many projects, however, also use other bottom-up strategies that involve asking the participants about their wishes for the project. Professionals fi nd it harder to recruit men than women. Some attribute this to masculine characteristics, but arguably men could be less interested than women in gender-specifi c groups, because they have less need to empower themselves or because the need to do so is less clear. Many professionals organize, in accordance with their ideas about masculinity, activities that are self-evidently practical (goal oriented) and active. There are, for example, repair studios, computer courses, cooking classes, and sports. They do this especially at the beginning of the project to attract and attach men to the projects. In a later stage, there is more talking, also about more diffi cult, non-self-evidently practical things. In choosing topics, professionals try to work from a bottom-up perspective and listen to what men themselves want to talk about. In practice, however, the professionals also push the projects in certain directions. They transform expressed wishes of participants, according to what the professionals themselves think is important, having in mind the goals of the project, attempting to balance their aspiration to work bottom-up, and the “emancipation” and “participation” goals they have to achieve. Attracting and attaching men to the project and meeting project goals is often seen as a sequence of several steps, as explained by the following community worker (with an Egyptian background): [The “codes of masculinity”] help me a lot to recruit people. Men are, for example, very much aware of their responsibility, but they don’t want to say: “I am poor,” or, “I have problems” (….). If you want to invite someone to work as a volunteer, you fi rst have to look at his self-interest. We have a fi tness training, that’s with others from the neighborhood. [Afterwards], we drink coffee or tea and then I will organize that into an information gathering, about housing, about welfare work, about debts. [He] will react positively, because it’s for his own good. (…) He has contact with others in the group. Maybe [he] will meet someone in the same situation, with the same problems. [He] then will know: I’m not the only one with these problems. Mister A and Mister B beside me have the same issues, so we can start discussing it openly: “We also have debts,” “I also have a diffi cult relationship.” Then you can bring them in contact with welfare workers. Afterwards I will try: you can work as a volunteer in a gardening project, or work in our community restaurant; we are looking for people. So fi rst you look at the self-interest, than the interests of others and of the neighborhood. 144 I. van Huis

In other words, according to this sequential setup, the start has to be goal oriented or active. Subsequently, in the social environment that is inconspicuously created, more practical information is given, and men are pushed to talk about their problems. Next, when issues are solved, a reciprocal relation is created that allows the community worker to invite them to do volunteer work. Some professionals point out the participants’ responsibility to give something back, for receiving help, or the responsibility they have for society in general. Also, they point out the benefi ts of doing voluntary work for the participants themselves. When asked how they work on “emancipation,” most professionals used the word “empowerment.” The participating men are often unemployed and had experienced many setbacks in their lives: (mental) health issues, labor disputes, debts, divorces, histories of refuge, and often several problems combined. Men are helped to empower themselves by doing activities together and thereby creating bonds with other men but also by encouraging them to improve their personal situation: getting out of a debt situation, improving their computer skills, improving their Dutch language skills, and receiving information about changes in laws and regulations and information about health care; the professionals also use sports and teach about healthy food to improve the men physically. By organizing cooking classes, professionals aim to meet gender equality goals, hoping the men will contribute more to domestic work. At the same time, one professional explains, they take into account “male characteristics” because cooking, and a training which in the end labels them “health ambassadors,” will give the men the status they need as a man. Masculinity is used in a similar way as a starting point by assuming men need an active role in society. Participants are given active roles in the projects or are encouraged to work elsewhere as a volunteer. By introducing voluntary work as an important way to experience life fulfi llment and status, they seem to be transforming but also confi rming the fi rst “code”: “A paid job is the most important thing in my life,” as depicted by the trainer at the kick-off meeting. Status remains important and voluntary work seems to more self-evidently replace paid work than, for example, care or household work.

Debunking Masculinity: Masculinities as Problems and Solutions

Although “doing stuff,” instead of talking, is perceived and presented as masculine by the professionals, at some point they want to talk. They want men to open up and share their thoughts and, preferably, some feelings. One male trainer said he sometimes “plays the man card.” When he wants to talk about more sensitive things and want men “to open up,” he tells them they are going to talk “as men among themselves.” He takes a masculine posture while explaining this: legs apart, both feet on the ground, hand on his knee, and a raised chest. He therefore uses essentialized masculinity as a solution to de-essentialize another aspect of that masculinity. Not Better Men? Gendered Culturalized Citizenship in Male Emancipation Projects... 145

“opening up” is seen as a problem of masculinity, “playing the man card” as a solution. According to the trainer this strategy works. Sometimes men “even” start to cry in his sessions. By using the word “even,” the professional seems to expresses his assumption (or experience) that crying is rare for the men he works with and that it is an achievement for a professional to be able to let men express themselves emotionally. Another example of debunking machismo was seen in a project for 15- and 16-year-old boys. The topic of the morning is “role models,” and in the afternoon there is a cooking class. The day starts off in a circle with 11 people, including myself, two project volunteers (young men in their twenties), and a 60-year-old male trainer with a Surinamese background. All the men give each other a “fi st bump,” touching the front of their fi sts, while I get a handshake, being an outsider, not being a man and not looking quite adapted to “street culture.” The boys and volunteers have various backgrounds: Surinam-Hindustan, Egyptian, Moroccan, Brazilian-Dutch and black Surinamese. The trainer asks the boys to describe their role model. A: “He defi nitely has big muscles” B: “With a necklace” Trainer: “What kind of necklace?” C: “A big golden necklace” A: “And Jordans” C: “No, Spizike shoes” Trainer: (…) What age is he?” Boys: “18!” “No 16!” D: “21, then he can do anything” (….) B: “OK, he is 16, but has a false ID” Boys: “Yeah!” C: “And he has a silver LV belt (…) and a blackberry (….) and a few mille on Swiss bankaccounts. Boys: “Yeah!” A: “And it’s a negro with an Italian accent” Trainer: “OK, OK, you know what. Your role model is a cartoon character. I cannot make anything of this. It could just as well be Mickey Mouse. There is no such person!” When the trainer asks the boys to be serious and to refl ect on what they will be doing when they are 20 years old, some of the boys continue performing their gang- ster images, saying they are going to start a career in dealing drugs (their most important role model being Tony Montana from the movie Scarface). The trainer shocks the boys by telling them of his own criminal, drug dealing, past. He explains about the downsides of criminal life: the fear of being robbed or being killed yourself (“in the end Scarface dies, blown to pieces like a little bird”) and the people he has lost, killed, or put to jail. The boys, astonished by his stories, listen with full attention. The trainer continues by telling the boys they should have a focus in life. This time he presents himself as a role model. Beside his criminal past he also has 146 I. van Huis a career in music. He tells the boys about the famous people he met on tour (e.g., Michael Jackson) and that he was successful because he had a focus in life and chose the right role models. The boys continue to respond with amazement about the trainer having met Michael Jackson. This professional gives boys possibilities to transform narrow conceptions of masculinity by offering a wider scope of norms, although status seems to be an overlapping norm. In a project, titled “Real Men,” participants are asked to name differences between men and women. In constructing a list a discussion evolves in which the participants de-essentialize masculinity more than the professionals. The professionals use the “codes of masculinity” to add differences. A: “I think we are equal” Male trainer: “True, but there are differences” Female trainer: “Do women talk more?” B: “I do that too, you know. Look at me…” Female trainer: “Using an hour to say what you can say in a minute?” (She writes down “long-winded,” under “women,” on the fl ip over). A: “Many men do the same.” Male trainer: “What do you think about this one: men want results, women want a nice atmosphere” (no response). Or, if you look at behavior rules: men are direct, straightforward; women stay angry for a long time and often confront you with the past.” B: “I recognize that: to open up old wounds [“oude koeien uit de sloot halen” ]. Every time the same box is opened, and if something happens, I’ll say: put that in the box with the other ones.” Male trainer: “Men have a fi ght and then it’s over, but a woman remembers.” Female trainer: “And a woman wants to fi x it. She wants to talk about it.” A: “I never feel like it. Then I’ll say: there’s the door” (he angrily points at the door). B: “That’s what you say now, but if it happens to you, you’ll talk different. I sometimes meet people who say: “I wish I was single,” until it happens to you.” A: “I would like to be single. I would go to France on my moped.” C: “Men like to brag, write that down.” B: “Bragging, playing tough, but when you return on your little moped…” Although the name of the project, “Real Men,” seems to reify masculinity, the idea is that you are a real man, no matter what (e.g., if you do not have a job). The project is introduced in that way by the trainers: “You have to tell yourself that you are a real man, even though you don’t have a job” (female trainer, repeating but transforming one of the codes of the kick-off meeting), and the men during the observations repeat the argument in their own ways: A: “We are real men. Maybe if you get drunk in the pub every day, than you’re not a real man.” Better Men? Gendered Culturalized Citizenship in Male Emancipation Projects... 147

B: “I think [A] is a real man, because he tries his best to ﬁ nd a job. And I think everyone here is a real man. There are no losers [ halve zolen ] at this table, but you are being suppressed by the authorities.”

Homosexuality

Even though heterosexuality is the assumption in the male emancipation projects (the classical family unit being central in the funding program and project plans), some professionals plan to discuss homosexuality at a point in the project. Some projects have a homosexual trainer that will discuss the acceptance of homosexuality in the project. Mepschen et al. (2010 , p. 968) state that acceptance of homosexuality has become entangled with Dutch normative citizenship and “neo-nationalist” discourses, as a signiﬁ er of Dutch tolerance. True citizenship (more in a moral, than in a legal sense) can only be acquired if one accepts homosexuals. This partly explains why the professionals think it important to discuss the topic. In practice, it turns out that several homosexual men participate in the projects. Some have not told the group about their sexuality, out of fear of rejection in the group. These men have only told the professionals and, in one case, only the researcher about their homosexuality. At one point during an observation, a man that is openly gay causes another participant to reﬂ ect on his transformed views on homosexuality: “In my country homosexuality is a bad thing. I also had that opinion. I hated those people. Everyone hated homosexuals. Here I saw that homosexuals are everywhere, also in the time of Mohammed. In that time there were many homosexuals, but the Koran writes negatively about it. Homosexuals are everywhere in the world. I’ve accepted it.” (Man with Kurdish Iraqi background) The de-essentializing and “transformation” of masculinities, in a way that gives more space for non-dominant masculinities, also happens with practices and norms concerning fatherhood.

R e ﬂ ecting, Negotiating, Involved Fathers

The most important norms and practices regarding fatherhood that are refl ected in the projects are those of communication and negotiation. Fathers are stimulated to talk and negotiate with their children and with their partners about the way they raise their children. In the projects, the men are asked to talk openly about the way they are brought up themselves and the way they (or are planning to) raise their children (if they are). Those that fi nd it diffi cult to share their thoughts are persuaded to do so by the trainer and other participants. Besides negotiation, important norms in upbringing for fathers that are (re)constructed in the course are spending time with children, disciplining aggression, gender equality, and talking about sexuality. 148 I. van Huis

Communication and Negotiation

In an information evening in a community center in Rotterdam, set up for fathers, but also welcoming women, a female social worker with a Cape Verdean background leads a discussion about children in puberty. The information gathering is visited mostly by members of various organizations (among others community organizations, women’s organizations, and a school); half of them are women. The visitors have white Dutch, Moroccan, and Cape Verdean backgrounds and other (unknown) backgrounds. The social worker asks the participants: “What do you do if your 12 year-old daughter tells you: Daddy, I’m in love.” Cape Verdean man: “I will give her a good dressing down! [“ draai om de oren ]” A Cape Verdean woman reacts surprised: “I thought you were modern!” The man responds: “She doesn’t even know herself, let alone what love is!” Another Cape Verdean man tells about his daughter who asked him for “medicines” (con- traceptives), and a few years later to buy diapers for her: “I think she wanted me to open up. I was very closed.” A white native Dutch schoolteacher: “It’s important to create an open atmosphere and to talk. My seven year-old daughter has a boyfriend” [the others in the room react surprised] “yes, and she talks extensively about it at breakfast. The other day she said she kissed her boyfriend. I asked her “really? How?” and then she showed me, luck- ily, it was on the cheek.” A male participant with a North African background says that communication often ends up in discussion. He asks if it is true that it is useless to have discussions with adolescents. He has a 13 year-old daughter that is starting to act difﬁ cultly: “She’s become another person. She always wants it her way.” A woman, a social worker, responds: “I come from a Muslim culture, just like you, I assume, and I was prohib- ited to do many things, but without any explanation. Explanation would have helped. They could have told me I could get pregnant, or that I could become ill, but the only thing they said was: you’re not allowed.” Better Men? Gendered Culturalized Citizenship in Male Emancipation Projects... 149

Advice to talk to each other and to communicate and negotiate with your children continues throughout the evening. In other projects the same message prevails about upbringing. Because of the bottom-up approach, there is room for diverse masculinities in the projects but only to a certain extent. When it comes to upbringing, the trainers give examples of what they think is the right way and push the men to a certain direction. For example, a trainer that works with an Afro-Caribbean group uses photographs of (black) men in “ideal” upbringing situations: washing a baby, reading a book, going for a walk together, etc. She doesn’t explicitly give a moral judgment but seems to use the photographs as examples of what, according to the professional, is “the right way” of upbringing. In another project, a movie is shown to the participants. In this movie, the mor- alization is hidden in a list of solutions for upbringing problems: parents should approach children in a positive way, not only correct them but also give compli- ments. They should spend time with them, accept a child the way it is, and not just prohibit things but also explain why. The advice that they should spend time with their children, to create a bond with children, is much given to fathers, by the professionals and by fathers among themselves. One of the arguments is that, if you do that before puberty, you can communicate more easily with them during puberty, which also makes it easier to discipline them.

Disciplining Violence

Communication and negotiation are introduced as highly important practices of fatherhood. Domestic violence is contested by professionals as well as participants. However, the “Dutch way” of upbringing is criticized by some participants as being “too soft.” At one point during an observation a social worker asks who thinks a corrective tap is allowed, a few people raise their hand, including one of the professionals. One of the participants adds that you cannot slap them in the face, you have to stop at a certain age, and that you always have to explain why you punish a child. In another project harsher forms of violence are debated. The professional works with photographs of a black man in several caring or upbringing activities with his child, on which the men are asked to respond. In one of the photographs, a man is angry but calm, raising a ﬁ nger to the child, as if he speaks to him in a corrective way, and opens up an emotional discussion. The men have an Afro-Caribbean (Antillean) background, as well as two trainers. The participating men are all fathers and of different ages, some in their early 20s, others above 60. 150 I. van Huis

Female trainer: “What do you see?” A: “A father who corrects his son.” Female trainer: “How do you do that yourself?” A: “With respect. I tell him it’s not allowed.” (.…) B: “I sometimes do a corrective tap, or slap.” Male trainer: “There are differences between Curacao and the Netherlands. You have to know that’s not accepted here. Here it’s mainly talking.” B: “I also talk at fi rst, but if that doesn’t work, then I’ll hit with a stick or a newspaper.” Trainer1: “A stick?” C: “I’ve been hit a lot. My father used to pick up everything that was around him: a piece of wood…and he would hit me, until I had swellings on my back. I don’t want my children to be afraid of me.” A: “But how it works here, also isn’t right. I was on the football fi eld with my son, and a Dutch boy says to his father: ‘Shut up!’ and do you know what the father did? He starts a discussion with his son! I would have slapped him! My son was next to me and I said: Do you see that? That’s not how we do it, if you do that, you will get hit.” D: “I don’t do that. The more you hit a child, the more insensitive they become. And the more aggressive they become.” Female trainer: “Some say, it’s lack of power, hitting someone. You do that because you can’t solve it in another way.” B: “You try to solve it in another way fi rst, before you slap. I don’t keep hitting, like [C] says. I only hit once, and after, you only have to look at him.” (….) E: “You don’t kill your child by hitting him.” (….) C: “I was hit with a belt, with sticks, but what he says is right, I kept doing stuff. You become insensitive.” A: “With me it was worse. My father poured hot water in my neck. He would put my hand against the hot stove, but I haven’t become a criminal. I stayed on the right track.” The men start to talk agitatedly.They want to know if he thinks it is right what his father did. [A] keeps repeating he stayed on the right track, that he is not a criminal, but in the end when the female trainer asks the same question he answers: “No, it wasn’t right of my father and I would never do it.” Female trainer: “What does it do to you?” A: “It hurts.” The conversation continues with more examples of other men being treated vio- lently by their fathers. In this example “us and them” boundaries, with ethnicity and geography as markers, are being essentialized in two ways. The professional uses geographical (and Better Men? Gendered Culturalized Citizenship in Male Emancipation Projects... 151 cultural) distance as an argument to leave violent upbringing behind. One of the participants, [A], however, uses ethnic distinctions to mark the difference between us (Antilleans) and them (Dutch people): “That’s not how we do it.” As communication and negotiation is the norm, violence and aggression can be seen as the counterpart. Talking is a way of preventing aggression. Punishing children in other ways is also mentioned as a solution, like temporarily prohibiting a child to do something he really likes, for example, playing computer games. Although there is some room for a corrective tap, there seems to be a consensus that (extreme) violence is not the way. Parents who have experienced a stricter upbringing themselves are looking for alternatives to discipline their children.

Gender [in]Equality: Partners, Boys, and Girls

The division of tasks between men and women in the upbringing of children is talked about in some of the projects and so are differences in raising boys and girls. The division of other tasks within the (marital, heterosexual) relationship—paid labor and domestic work—is of less importance in the projects. The absence of these aspects of gender relations is remarkable, having in mind one of the most important argumentations for starting the projects for male emancipation: the idea that men hold back the development of their wives and daughters. In an ethnically mixed group, with participants from several countries in Africa, from Iraq, from South America, and from the Netherlands, men talk about parenthood. The group has a white Dutch woman and a man with a Turkish background as trainers. The female trainer reveals to the group that she experiences parenthood to be very much connected to her being a woman and asks the men what they think about that: “do you associate fatherhood with being a man?” The reactions are more on differences between men and women in raising children. The male trainer says that he leaves emotions more to his wife: “I think that it has something to do with fear. I would ask myself: would I do it in the right way?” A Kurdish man from Iraq refl ects: “I think my wife is more close to the children than I am, but I allow them more. I’m the one who explains about religion, but the children choose themselves. My son doesn’t accept religion and my daughter does.” Sexuality, a sensitive subject, is only discussed when the professional thinks relations of trust have been created in the group. The topic is an offi cial topic in some of the projects. It is sometimes talked about in a medical way, discussing the risks of unsafe sexual behavior. It is also a topic that is brought up when discussing the upbringing of children, for example, discussing whether fathers talk about sexuality with their children, if they allow their children to be sexually active, and whether they make differences between boys and girls. A female white Dutch trainer, working with an ethnically mixed group, has learned from the “masculinity expert” that, if you work with men, “you have to, at some point, talk about sexuality.” With this in mind, she explained in an interview how she asked her group if they were more the type that liked boobs or bottoms. She chooses to be 152 I. van Huis upfront in this, and she says it was accepted by the men, (“probably because I’m an older woman”), although they laugh about it. During one of the meetings with a small group of three men (the other men had to leave early), she asks them: “Who gives their children sexual education at home? Who is the one that has done that?” Male trainer: “My wife.” A (Kurdish background): “Nobody.” B: (White young Dutch man, without children): “Nobody. I found a plastic bag with sex- magazines of my father. I learned something from that.” Female trainer: (laughing) “Than you’ve learned the wrong things!” B: “At school I’ve learned it in more detail.” C: (South American background, without children): “Nobody, but I have given sexual education to the children of my brother. He thought it was too diffi cult himself.” […] Male trainer: “I’m thinking about it. Why didn’t I do it myself? I do have a son. I just think it’s too complex.” A: “I didn’t know.” Female trainer: “What didn’t you know?” A: “That you have to do that.” Female trainer: “I don’t say you have to do something. Nothing is an obligation here. I just want to know how it goes.” A: “In our culture it’s not allowed” (…) “you don’t talk about it.” C: “Men don’t like to talk”

Ethnic Diversity, Masculinity, and Citizenship

Ethnicity, besides masculinity, matters in the projects for male emancipation. Although gender, class, and “social isolation” are offi cially the most important markers for who the project is for (low-educated, socially isolated men), ethnically diverse groups of migrants are overrepresented in the projects and some projects target specifi c ethnic groups of men. Moreover, the ethnic diversity of the projects infl uences the way masculinities are debated. The professionals that target ethnically specifi c groups state that the groups of Antillean fathers, Moroccan older men, or Turkish men, need specifi c attention, as they have certain needs, or problems, because they share the same history. For example, a professional that works with Afro-Caribbean Antillean men, herself from the Antilles, states that Antilleans often have problematic family relations, with absent fathers and therefore can benefi t from separate attention. Also, these men, the professional argues, can more easily speak openly, because they share the same kind of issues. Better Men? Gendered Culturalized Citizenship in Male Emancipation Projects... 153

A professional that works with Somali men says that, in contrary to what he has heard about “men in general” at the kick-off meeting, Somali men (as well as women) have a strong narrative culture, which brought him to the idea to work by collecting tales and expressions from Somalia and elsewhere and thereby discussing topics that he and his participants fi nd important. Also, the “homogeneity” of the group (with people from various tribes in Somalia) gives the opportunity to share thoughts about experiences they have as refugees from a country in civil war. The professionals that work with (predominantly) one ethnical group take efforts to let the men make contact with men with other ethnical backgrounds at some point in the project. An Afro-Caribbean group, for example, has spent an afternoon playing soccer with a group of refugees. The professionals state that mixed backgrounds help participants to refl ect on “their own culture”: “to break out of a negative spiral” and “to break through only negative thoughts about their situation and about the Netherlands” (according to a professional with a Moroccan background, who works predominantly with men with Moroccan backgrounds). Mixed backgrounds also make it easier to do the group sessions in Dutch, instead of in the native language, which is qualifi ed as a good thing. In groups that are ethnically mixed, masculinities are compared, for instance, by comparing ways of upbringing, or machismo. The comparisons are sometimes done in essentializing ways, but participants also de-essentialize masculinities while comparing between countries of origin. A (participant with Colombian background): “I think in the Netherlands men are not macho, in Colombia they are, but there are changes. Being macho used to be being strict and to hit your wife. Now it’s expressed more by training the body. Muscles are now a sign of machismo, but the other machismo is also still there.” [….] B (from Iraq, or Kurdistan): “In the eastern culture, good behavior is more important: money and a good job.” C (white Dutch man): “And in appearance?” B: “Not so much. If you have a tattoo, if you are in a motorcycle group, or if you are muscled and wear a tight shirt, it shows you are not a good man. You might be a criminal.” Some participants themselves see the project as a way to meet people with other backgrounds. When I ask a participant with a South American background what he thinks about the project, he answers: “It helps me to integrate. You cannot see what people think. You need to talk, exchange thoughts. If you don’t do that you will form prejudices.” 154 I. van Huis

Only at some occasions are male gender norms presented as Dutch or non-Dutch and as traditional or modern. Dutch ways (of being a parent, a man, a father) are presented in positive as well as negative ways. A trainer will say that hitting children is not accepted in the Netherlands in order to let other men conform to that norm. However, there is also room to criticize what is perceived as Dutch ways of raising children, for example, saying it is not strict enough and involves too much talking. But overall, talking and negotiation is presented as a better way than disciplining by giving orders or violence. This is in accordance to the “negotiation regime,” by which Abram de Swaan (1979 ) characterized post-1960s Dutch society, in contrast to the earlier “order regime,” characterized by hierarchal relationships within the family as well as other parts of society. Yet, in the projects, such historical perspectives are absent. The Dutch norm seems to have always been the way it is now.

Conclusion: Gendered Culturalized Citizenship

Projects for male emancipation are not just social projects with exclusively men as target groups (instead of mixed gender groups, or women’s groups): masculinities do matter in these projects. Masculinities are debated, especially by the professionals who organize the projects. Observations at meetings and workshops that are organized for the professionals illuminate the importance of the gender aspect of the project and show how the organizations that set up the projects are infl uenced in essentializing and de-essentializing masculinities. The professionals respond to the offered conceptualization of masculinity in a critical manner but nevertheless transform their views on masculinities and often give it more importance in their projects. In the projects men are reached “as men,” the starting point being the (essentialized) assumption that men want to do active and goal-oriented things and want to receive practical information. Before men can refl ect on their identities, or their role in their families and society (which are the goals formulated by the funding program), professionals attach them to the project by “doing stuff” and “learning practical things.” However, at some point, the professionals want to do more than that. Refl ections on their identities are initiated, for example, by letting men talk about their upbringing, by discussing role models, or by comparing gender norms from different nationalities or regions, which all give opportunities for de- essentializing possible reifi ed or narrow conceptions of masculinity. The father role is seen as an accessible and goal-oriented topic. It does at the same time concern the role in the family directly and is therefore often used by the organizations as a central topic for their project. By discussing the father role, in interactions between professionals and participants, masculinities are being de- essentialized and transformed, not so much as ways of adapting to “Dutch” society or transforming “traditional” to “modern” views but by fi nding solutions to practical problems. Masculinity itself is sometimes seen as part of the problem and sometimes, in a transformed way, as a solution. The problematic masculinities are where Better Men? Gendered Culturalized Citizenship in Male Emancipation Projects... 155 they concern aggression, lack of communication, and lack of involvement in upbringing; the solutions are, on the contrary, being involved fathers that do activities with their children and raise children by talking and negotiating. Equal upbringing of boys and girls and teaching children about sexuality are also important norms in upbringing, although there are also projects that assume the father-son relationship to be more important (or more in need of attention) than the father- daughter relationship. The division of childcare between partners and the division of paid and domestic work are, however, not much discussed. Cooking a meal is an exception, because the professionals consider that a part of domestic work that men are interested in, because they can take pride in it. Although one of the reasons to start male emancipation projects was to improve the situation of women—assuming men were hampering their progress—in these emancipation projects the situations of women come in second place (or third, after the children). Of course, improving the situation of men can also benefi t their partners’ situations (if they have one). However, the argument to start these projects because men hamper their wives’ and daughters’ development turns out, in practice, to have lost importance. Reasons for this shift, formulated by the professionals, are that the men they work with have problems and wishes of their own and that discussing the relationship with their partner (or past, or future partner) is not attractive for men (a project by a women’s organization forms an exception). Because of the bottom-up approach and the negotiating form, there is room for diversity in the male emancipation projects. Projects that are organized for a relatively homogenous migrant group discuss specifi c issues that are relevant for the men sharing similar (migration) histories; ethnically diverse projects let men compare differences in masculinity, thereby giving room for diversity, but at the same time de-essentializing and transforming masculinity (and non-gender-specifi c norms). Although there is room for diversity, participants are also pushed toward a certain “normality.” In the interactions between professionals and participants, a dominant masculinity is constructed that is different from that of the kick- off meeting. The masculinity in the “codes of masculinity” is based on gender (role) differences and a capitalist breadwinner model, combined with arguments from biology and prehistory (testosterone making men aggressive, evolution causing men to be competitive, and prehistory continuing men to act as hunters). The second masculinity, however, is more progressive and gender equal. It assumes difference between men and women but with more equal roles (with both men and women working or being an active citizen in other ways). Some “codes” of the kick-off meeting are being recreated (“men are goal oriented”, “men are active”), but others are being transformed. An ideal emancipated man, according to this constructed masculinity, is an active citizen that refl ects, talks, negotiates, shows feelings, considers men and women to be equal (although there is a professional hesitance on this topic), accepts homosexuality, spends time with his children and disciplines them by talking, and explains to them about sexuality. In conclusion, we can see that male emancipation projects are practices of culturalized citizenship and “new paternalism.” The professionals try to infl uence the 156 I. van Huis norms and behaviors of men, not only to make them independent, productive citizens that integrate into society by the interactions they have in the workplace (as was the dominant socioeconomic integration discourse in the Netherlands until the 1990s) but predominantly by infl uencing their norms on upbringing, their daily activities, their identities, their ways of expressing their emotions, and their relationship to Dutch society. However, in these projects the negotiating, bottom-up way, gives men the possibility to infl uence what they learn and express their views in discussions. This bottom-up approach is a less paternalistic way of infl uencing gender norms, than, for example, the current Dutch citizenship courses, where men and women learn reifi ed Dutch norms that are defi ned by state institutions.

References

Baumann, G. (1999). The multicultural riddle, rethinking national, ethnic, and religious identities . New York: Routledge. Connell, R. W. (2010). Masculinities . Cambridge: Polity Press. De Leeuw, M., & van Wichelen, S. (2012). Civilizing migrants: Integration, culture and citizenship. European Journal of Cultural Studies, 15 (2), 195–210. de Swaan, A. (1979). Uitgaansbeperking en uitgaansangst; over de verschuiving van bevelshuis- houding naar onderhandelingshuishouding. De Gids, 142 (8), 483–509. Duyvendak, J. W. (2011). The politics of home, belonging and nostalgia in Western Europe and the United States . New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Duyvendak, J. W., Hurenkamp, M., & Tonkens, E. (2010). Culturalization of citizenship in the Netherlands. In A. Chebel d’Appolonia & S. Reich (Eds.), Managing ethnic diversity after 9/11: Integration, security and civil liberties in transatlantic perspective (pp. 233–252). New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press. Foucault, M. (1977). Discipline and punish: The birth of the prison . London: Penguin. Geschiere, P. (2009). The perils of belonging: Autochthony, citizenship, and exclusion in Africa and Europe . Chicago: The University of Chicago Press. Mepschen, P., Duyvendak, J. W., & Tonkens, E. (2010). Sexual politics, orientalism and multicultural citizenship in the Netherlands. Sociology, 44 (5), 962–979. Metaal, S., van Huis, I., & Duyvendak, J. W. (2010). Grote problemen van kleine groepen & kleine problemen van grote groepen: Een onderzoek naar sociale projecten bij stedelijke vernieuwing in Overtoomse Veld . Amsterdam: Koers Nieuw West. Oranje Fonds. (2010). Achtergrondinformatie Man 2.0: Programma ter bevordering van emanci- patie en participatie van sociaal geïsoleerde mannen . Roggeband, C., & Verloo, M. (2007). Dutch women are liberated, migrant women are a problem: The evolution of policy frames on gender and migration in the Netherlands, 1995–2005. Social Policy & Administration, 41 (3), 271–288. Turlings, F. (2012). Migrantenvrouwen zijn geen problem meer; hun zonen wel: Een onderzoek naar de framing van het integratiebeleid door de PvdA in het cabinet Belkenende IV. Bachelorthesis Radboud University Nijmegen. van den Berg, M., & Duyvendak, J. W. (2012). Paternalizing mothers: Feminist repertoires in contemporary Dutch civilizing offensives. Critical Social Policy, 32(4), 556–576. van der Haar, M. (2012). Framing migrant men as a policy problem: Comparing national and local discourses . Paper presented at the IPA conference, Tilburg. van Houdt, F., Suvarierol, S., & Schinkel, W. (2011). Neoliberal communitarian citizenship: Current trends towards “earned citizenship” in the United Kingdom, France and the Netherlands. International Sociology, 26 (3), 408–432. Better Men? Gendered Culturalized Citizenship in Male Emancipation Projects... 157

van Huis, I., & de Regt, A. (2005). “Tussen dwang en dialoog”: Maatschappijoriëntatie in inbur- geringscursussen. Sociologie, 1 (4), 382–406. Verkaaik, O. (2010). The cachet dilemma: Ritual and agency in new Dutch nationalism. American Ethnologist, 23 (1), 69–82. Walby, S. (2011). The future of feminism . Cambridge: Polity Press. Yanow, D., & van der Haar, M. (2013). People out of place: allochthony and autochthony in the Netherlands’ identity discourse—metaphors and categories in action. Journal of International Relations and Development, 16, 227–261. Fluid Masculinities? Case Study of the Kingdom of Bahrain

Magdalena Karolak , Hala Guta , and Neva Helena Alexander

The need to assess male social roles and gender identity in the modern social context prompted the emergence of a gender-specialized psychology devoted to the study of men (Levant and Pollack 1995 , p. 1). Indeed, the breadth of the study of psychology of men focuses on the crisis of masculinity in the West. Social changes related to rising male unemployment, female emancipation, and transformation of the labor market undermined the position of man as the breadwinner and consequently led to a gradual dismantling of the patriarchal organization of society (MacInnes 1998 , p. 55). This research is a qualitative study based on in-depth interviews with a sample of nine Bahraini men aged 20–40 and analyzes the subjective experience of masculinity based on the case study of the Kingdom of Bahrain. A literature overview of the subject is followed by data analysis. Its speciﬁ c cultural context presents a hegemonic masculinity deeply rooted in the organization of society and supported by religion. Nonetheless, rapid modernization of the region has prompted social, economic, and cultural changes; their impact on the male psyche has not been studied yet. Research on how masculinity is experienced in the Arabian Peninsula is virtually nonexistent. Studies devoted to the subject of masculinity deal primarily with the transformation of female and male roles in society (Elamin and Omair 2010 ; Schlaffer and Kropiunigg 2011 ). Even from this perspective, Bahrain has never been studied. Our research is thus a pioneer work since it focuses on the psychological aspects of the construction and experience of masculinity and within Bahrain. Early studies of gender focused on explaining the differences between the two genders and can be grouped into two major approaches. The ﬁ rst approach is biological essentialism, which conceptualizes biological factors as determinates of gender differences. Biological sex difference would thus determine the psychological sex

M. Karolak • H. Guta • N. H. Alexander (*) Core Humanities and Social Sciences Department, Prince Mohammad bin Fahd University, P.O. Box 1664, Al Khobar 31952, Kingdom of Saudi Arabia e-mail: [email protected]; [email protected]; [email protected]

J. Gelfer (ed.), Masculinities in a Global Era, International and Cultural Psychology 4, 159 DOI 10.1007/978-1-4614-6931-5_9, © Springer Science+Business Media New York 2014 160 M. Karolak et al. differences and make them permanent and unchangeable, no matter the external conditions in the society. Consequently, “the infl ux of women into the paid workforce will not make men and women more alike” (Rudman and Glick 2008 , p. 7). The other approach to the study of masculinity/femininity emphasizes the role of socialization in developing gender differences. The socialization approach stresses the role of social institutions and conditioning and constructing certain gender- related norms (Connell 1987 ). Within the former approach, sex role theory was developed to understand why males and females behave differently in certain settings. Sex role theory suggests that gender differences in social behavior result from the society expectations of the social role associated with each gender. Within the sex role framework, masculinity and femininity were perceived as opposites. Consequently, certain traits were considered exclusively masculine or exclusively feminine and could be measured on a masculinity-femininity scale (e.g., 0 % f, 100 % m). Based on this theory, the Male Role Norms Inventory was devised (David and Brannon 1976 ). Masculinity is based on four factors: “no sissy stuff,” which is avoidance of feminine behavior; “the big wheel,” which means that masculine men should always be working hard to achieve the greatest possible success; “the sturdy oak,” which represents the idea that men should never show signs of weakness; and fi nally “give ‘em hell,” representing men’s predilection for adventure, even if it is dangerous. Sex role theory was criticized as essentialist, and although it proposes that gender is socially constructed, the theory in practice “too closely identifi es with sexuality and biology and underplays the social construction of femininity and masculinity” (Komarovsky 1992 , p. 301); it also failed to explain the notion of masculinity, for instance, if individual “doesn’t meet the criteria of an inventory to be ‘masculine’ the underlying message is that he is not a man. If a man is emotional instead of macho or skinny rather than muscular, is he less of a man than others?” (Gabbay et al. 2011, p. 200). In addition, the one-sided representation of masculinity could ultimately be damaging to men. Indeed, A man is supposed to get out there and do something: perform, accomplish, produce, and bring back the bacon. If his body is a vehicle for demonstrating his masculinity, he tries to acquire special strength, endurance, sexual virility, athletic prowess. If his mind is the preferred vehicle, he uses thought as a weapon in the struggle to win, to outmuscle his rivals, be it in science, art or chess. Whatever the arena, he wants to establish his place in the arena of work and men. He wants to become a productive, independent, responsible, authoritative man who has the mental and bodily capacities needed to attain his goals. (Levinson cited in Schoenberg 1993 , p. 74) But “when men are not portrayed as tough, macho heroes, they are more likely to be wimpy buffoons than men who are expressive in a way that refl ects a depth of character” (Meth et al. 1990 , p. 61). Connell’s concept of hegemonic masculinities was built on Gramsci’s concept of hegemony. Gramsci conceptualized hegemony as “a social condition in which all aspects of social reality are dominated by or supportive of a single [group]” (Mayo 1999 , p. 35). While Marxists argue that the ruling class imposes its control through ownership of the means of production, Gramsci underscores the role of social institutions as the means of production of meanings and values to impose the dominant Fluid Masculinities? Case Study of the Kingdom of Bahrain 161 groups’ values, beliefs, and interests and to frame reality in a way that serves their interests (Williams 2003 ; Mayo 1999 ; Joll 1978 ; Femia 1987 ). Building on Gramsci’s concept of hegemony, Connell proposed the concept of hegemonic masculinities. Connell fi rst suggested that hegemonic masculinities are a collective ordeal rather than an actual reality of male personalities. Just as the concept of hegemony suggests struggle and contestation between different ideologies at play, the concept of hegemonic masculinities suggests that they are multiple masculinities in a constant struggle. However, the winning style is the cultural ideal which “involves the creation of models of masculinity which are quite specifi cally fantasy fi gures [and macho characters]” (Connell 1987 , p. 184). Hegemonic masculinities entail a set of practices which institute a relationship of power (Carrigan et al. 1985 ). These practices include socially constructed image of hegemonic masculinity through either mass persuasion (mostly through mass media and social institutions) or imposition by the state (for instance, illegalization of homosexuality as a perverted image of masculinity). Moreover, hegemony involves gender division of labor, through which certain jobs are perceived as more masculine than others. Although the idea of male domination over women was not a new one, the concept of hegemonic masculinities advanced the discussion of gender politics to entail the power relations not only between men and women but also within groups of men, such as homosexual males and heterosexual males. According to the hegemonic masculinities framework, a collective ideal of masculinity produces conditions of hierarchy in which women and homosexual men inhabit a subordinate position to heterosexual men. Although hegemonic masculinity is a cultural ideal rather that a reality, it represents an idealized defi nition of “what does it mean to be a man.” However, as argued by Wetherell and Edley (1999 ), the concept proposed the ideal image but lacked specifi cation on how hegemonic masculinity is performed in real daily life. Wetherell and Edley (1999 ) suggested understanding the patterns of masculine identity negotiation among men in order to understand how men position themselves in discourse and negotiate their identity in different social contexts. Looking into the process of masculine identity negotiation, as Connell and Messerschmidt ( 2005 ) argued, aids in understanding how hegemonic masculinity can be expressed in multiple meanings and how “men can dodge among [these] multiple meanings according to their interactional needs” (p. 841).

Masculinity in the Middle East

The position of men in the context of the Middle East is often described in opposition to women whose status is subordinate to masculinity (Hatem 1998 , p. 88); this is also the case of Arabian Gulf patriarchal societies. Patriarchy is deﬁ ned as “a hierarchy of authority that is controlled and dominated by the males” (Krauss 1987 , p. xii.); it originates in the family, which forms a basic institution of Arab societies. 162 M. Karolak et al.

Families are headed by men, and within this patriarchal structure, female and male obligations and spheres are strictly separated (Giacaman et al. 1996 ). Within patriarchal structures: family is also central to political identity. Political identity comes through male genealogy. The Arab nation is seen as descending through a series of patrilineal kin groups. Citizens have to belong to a male-defi ned kin group to belong to a religious sect, to belong to the nation, and to acquire the rights and responsibilities of citizenship. Children are assigned both the religious and political identities of their fathers. By not allowing women to pass citizenship on to their children (or their spouses), most Arab states cement the linkage between religious identity, political identity, patrilineality, and patriarchy—that is, between religion, nation, state, and kinship. (Hijab 2002 , p. 6) Traditional division of roles sees women’s fulfi llment in the area of home as mothers and wives (Sabbagh 2007 ). Family ought to create a safe zone within which women fi nd protection. Women’s subordinate position is justifi ed this way. The domination of men in the public sphere is supported by religion and is refl ected in the legal system. This traditional understanding of gender roles is refl ected in the stereotypes related to the gendered psyche. Women are believed to be emotional beings and, due to this inborn trait, should not make decisions but leave them to the men. On the contrary, men are not moved by emotions, but they base their decisions on reason, which confi rms their dominant status in society as compared to women. This dominant role comes however with responsibilities. Men are out to provide an economic security and, overall, are responsible for the well-being of their family. Despite the fact that the traditional role of the men in society sets guidelines for male behavior, the changing socioeconomic factors may lead to the phenomenon observed in the Western societies beforehand. As observed by Schoenberg (1993 , p. 5), in the past, “traditional concepts of maleness and masculinity provided men with a set of behavioral guidelines as well as an explicit code of ethics that formed a foundation for personal construct development. A worrisome complication is that the traditional family is rapidly becoming an anachronism.” The effects of changing societal conditions may affect the ability to achieve same-sex identifi cation of younger generations, which are especially diffi cult for men (Schoenberg 1993 , p. 5). Bahrain is an example of a country where traditional gender roles have been recently changing. Unprecedented economic boom of the Gulf region experienced in the 1970s did not really open doors for female participation in society. In the 1970s women made up only for 4 % of total workforce (Supreme Council for Women 2001 ). Ross (2008 ) argued that oil rentierism is the cause of limited economic and political participation of women in the Middle East. The oil industry requires male labor and reduces female activity in the workforce. Consequently, women concen- trate on running the households, which leads to higher fertility rates and limits possibilities of information exchange and thus political organization. Initially, economic growth did not erode the tribal social structures that keep women outside the public sphere. On the contrary, it strengthened them by providing enough resources for families to rely solely on men’s work. However, in 2010, female participation in workforce rose to around 32.1 % (Bahrain Economic Development Board [BEDB] 2010). In 2008, more than one third of Bahraini businesses were owned by women Fluid Masculinities? Case Study of the Kingdom of Bahrain 163

(Gender Gulf 2008 ). With longer education and professional careers on the rise, fertility rates dropped from 7.09 children per woman rate in 1960s to 2.29 in 2007 (World Bank 2009 ). Women constitute 70 % of all university graduates (BEDB 2010 ), and Bahraini authorities saw women’s rising education attainments as a resource for the country’s development actively promoting their participation in the public sphere, even in areas previously conﬁ ned to men (Supreme Council for Women 2001 ). The increase in numbers of working women who are married from 45 % in 1981 to 60 % in 1991 may indicate that women’s contribution to the family is increasing (Wilkenson and Atti 1997 ). The expectations towards wives in Bahrain changed drastically as a number of respondents admitted that “young men nowadays look for a wife that can help with family expenses” (Kelly 2009 , p. 3). Moreover, it is important to note that 10.84 % of Bahraini families are supported by a woman. On the other hand, progressing globalization of the Arabian Gulf promoted the visibility of LGBTQ communities. Although banned by Islam and punishable under Bahraini penal code, gay and lesbian venues are reported to operate. Sporadic incidents of arrests during raids on LGBTQ parties have been reported in the press. In addition, the ﬁ rst case of a Bahraini who underwent a sex change was legally approved in 2008. Based on the observation of the changing socioeconomic patterns in Bahrain as well as experienced cultural changes, it is important thus to assess their impact on how masculinity is experienced by Bahrainis.

Methodology

This chapter assesses Bahraini men’s constructions of masculinities by connecting their life experiences to their gender. Given the fast social changes observed in Bahrain, it is important to ask how these changes affect their construction and experience of masculinity: as noted by Mahalik et al. (2003 , p. 4) “sociocultural infl uences … shape the gender role expectations and standards that constitute gender role norms.” For the purpose of this study, a qualitative in-depth interviewing methodology was selected to gain an understanding of Bahraini men’s perceptions and experience of masculinity. We choose in-depth interviews as the research methodology because interviews typically explore the way in which participants construct meaning from their lived experiences. The purpose of the in-depth interviews, explains Kvale (1996 ), “is to understand themes of the lived daily world from the subject’s own perspective” (p. 27). Interviewing is conceptualized as a conversation with a purpose (Lindlof and Taylor 2002 ). The purpose of qualitative interviewing is to gain better and deeper understanding of the interviewee’s thoughts, opinions, experience, perspectives, and conceptualization about the social phenomena under study; “we interview people to fi nd out from those things we cannot directly observe” (Patton 2002 , p. 341). In the context of this research, interviews as a method have a special signifi cance since the research deals with perceptions, meaning construction, and interpretation, something that cannot be identifi ed by observation alone. 164 M. Karolak et al.

The study involved nine Bahraini men aged 20–40 years old. The research participants come from different class, economic, and social backgrounds, yet all had completed secondary education. They also encompass different occupational and educational backgrounds; however, they are from the same culture and religious background. Participation was voluntary and all participants received full disclosure of the purpose of the study. The interviews were conducted by a male Bahraini in English, transcribed and lasted between 30 min and 1 h. All interviews took place in the men’s workplaces, public settings, or homes.

Data Analysis

Various themes were detected through the interviews, but the main normative categories, which emerged from the data, are as follows: (1) hegemonic masculinity vs. Muslim masculinity, (2) what masculinity is not, (3) masculinity negotiations, and (4) societal changes and the perception of masculinity.

Hegemonic Masculinity or What Does It Mean to Be a Man

According to Donaldson ( 1993), social scientists have sought to link the insight of what it means to be a man with the concept of hegemony, a notion as slippery and diffi cult as the idea of masculinity itself. However, in the 1970s Patricia Sexton suggested that “male norms stress values such as courage, inner direction, certain forms of aggression, autonomy, mastery, technological skill, group solidarity, adventure and considerable amounts of toughness in mind and body” (cited in Donaldson 1993 , p. 644). Interviews conducted in Bahrain confi rmed that the concept of hegemonic masculinity does exist and that men, willingly or not, take it as a point of reference. When participants were asked “what does it mean to be a man?” most of the participants stated that it meant being in control of the situation and/or of a woman as well as being responsible. Moreover, a number of interviewees associated masculinity with physical attributes such as “being powerful, having muscles.” A physical as well as a mental aspect of masculinity are summed up in this participant statement: [a] rough look. I cannot categorize or judge myself. I like my manly looks—beard, short hair, masculine body and the way I live and way I think. I am courageous, generous, honest etc. I am a man of honor. Not looks only. Idea of a good man is complete. When you praise someone you say “he is a man.” By saying he is a man is like saying that he is being praised. The question about situations in which they feel more masculine than others received a wide range of answers. One of the participants evoked watching the warriors not surrendering in combat and protecting their manly ego and honor till the end in the movie 300 . The same feeling of masculinity was expressed by another interviewee in real life: “Yes, when I defend my right or fi ght for honor. At that time, Fluid Masculinities? Case Study of the Kingdom of Bahrain 165

I feel I’m unstoppable.” Others linked feeling more masculine to a range of activities. For some of the participants, the normative ideal of masculinity is visible in the high-adrenaline activities such as ﬂ ying a plane or riding a motorbike as well as during sexual intercourse. These ﬁ ndings are no different from the conclusions of Wetherell and Edley conducted in a European setting ( 1999 ). On the other hand, the second part of the analysis reveals a particular cultural context when focusing on the opposites of masculinity.

What Masculinity Is Not

Given the context of the Middle East, we attempted to assess masculinity by understanding the opposite of the masculinity as perceived by our respondents. Femininity seems to be an obvious answer, yet, for the majority of the participants in this study, homosexuality was equally an opposite of masculinity. Our analysis reveals that these oppositions draw on the Muslim cultural context. In this sense, the respondents perceive an Islamic masculinity to which some look up, while others denounce it. Masculinity and Femininity: To begin with, this opposition is perceived by the performance of everyday roles as well as traits of character. Interviewee 8, for instance, stated that: In our culture it is mostly man who is in charge, who pays, is responsible for the whole house, has money, has the woman. Woman has other duties e.g. housewife—you know what I mean. There are different traits men have over here as men are more outgoing than ladies are. It has more to do with culture over here. Interviewee 9 elaborated further on the perceived psychological aspects of this opposition: Masculinity by nature you are aggressive, loud, controlling, strong, assertive, leader, lead life and family; at the same time responsible, kind, thoughtful, logical, committed, do better and considerate. Women are not logical but emotional. This is the difference and that is why men should lead and control. Men should be kind but eventually all should be in the man’s hands. A lady should be obedient, submissive, should express herself but know at the end of the day she is a woman and should give in to the man. Similar statements appear in other interviews suggesting that for the participants masculinity is rooted in the patriarchal system, and thus, masculinity is connected to a logical mind and comes with responsibilities for the family. For instance, when asked “what do you think is the traditional role of man in family?” one of the participants stated that the man should be: Leader, care taker, guider, provider, etc. Basically he is the wall, bread and butter of the family. It is not changing and will stay forever but yes, the execution of the role is changing. I see a bigger portion of people failing to perform these roles. A man is the leader and provider. 166 M. Karolak et al.

This perception was confi rmed by another interviewee who stated that “Men are not scared easily, they don’t cry easily. Men make wise decisions, they take care of responsibilities. Their role is to bring food on the table.” These traits were positioned in contrast with femininity where “the woman is the care-take of the house form inside. She should be the comforter of the man. Yes… if a man does not fulfi ll his role, he is not being good enough of being a good man.” On the other hand, some participants referred to masculinity purely in physiological terms, opposing it this way to femininity: “I was born this way…. What do you exactly mean? I am very happy. No PMS, no child birth” and “Thank God I don’t have a period once a month. I cannot handle pain. I don’t think handling pain is a man thing. It is more female thing.” One participant perceived the gender opposition away from the Islamic ideal and described it as follows: “These days women can do everything. They are women pilots and women bodybuilders. Only in terms of nature, gender can be distinguished. For example, putting makeup and looking nice is a female thing.” Masculinity and Homosexuality: For men who view hegemonic masculinity as the ideal societal standard, homosexuality is usually positioned as subordinate masculinity; for those who look up to the Islamic masculinity as the ideal, homosexuality is yet another opposition to masculinity. The men interviewed described or associate masculinity with being strong, having power, and not being a homosexual. Interviewee 1 described masculinity as the opposite of the famous designer Calvin Klein who is openly homosexual. Along the same lines, interviewee 2 responded that “masculinity means being attracted to the opposite sex. Homosexual point of view is totally unacceptable.” This opposition was shared by interviewee 6 who described homosexuals as “half male half she male” and interviewee 8 who also described them as partially feminine: well, they are totally different. People who are gay here are discreet but are more feminine considering the way they dress and the way they talk. I have never seen a completely masculine and normally looking and acting gay. You can tell they have feminine genes in them. Similarly, interviewee 9 conceptualized gay men as not masculine: “those are nothing to do with masculine. They are fi nished as men. For us that is a biggest shame when it comes to a person.” He elaborated further his disgust with this sexual orientation: “When a gay touches me I go home and wash up. In our culture gay is abnormal in Arabic). There are the worst bad names to be called for) ذ called gays.” Interviewee 6 went further and viewed homosexuality as not only subordinate to hegemonic masculinity but even a threat to it: gays are being a lot in this region. And they are like dominating the masculine part … yani .... half male half she male … so I believe yani , the man is threatened by these group that is increasing day by day. Especially if they got a straight guy, they will make him convert to be like them. … the masculine are threatened by these gay communities. It has to be noted though that some interviewees did not share the view that homosexuality is the opposite of masculinity but a subordinate masculinity. Interviewee 4 mentioned: “Don’t judge gays by their gayness. … Maybe this gay is more manly than my straight friends.” Yet, such opinions were a minority. Fluid Masculinities? Case Study of the Kingdom of Bahrain 167

All in all, based on the opposition between masculinity and femininity as well as masculinity and homosexuality, Islamic masculinity, often embodied in the ﬁ gure of a “Saudi tribal men,” is the utmost masculine ideal. As expressed by one participant, “If we compare Bahrain to other cultures like India or America, then Muslims are more manly.”

Negotiation

Connell and other researchers contended that hegemonic masculinity is an ideal rather than an actual reality for male personalities. Yet there is constant struggle and contest between the normative ideal and the real characters. In a study by Connell (1995 ), he argued that most men are complicit with hegemonic masculinity, even if they are unable to (or refrain from) strut like Rambo. This process of constant negotiations and contest was apparent in the interviews, where interviewees provide descriptions of the “ideal” masculine fi gure but at the same time do not adhere to hegemonic masculinity. Moreover, most position themselves, while at a distance from these ideals, as “normal” yet claim to be masculine. When interviewee 1 was asked “would you describe yourself as a macho man?” he replied “No… I like looking like a pretty boy rather than a macho hunk or a burly man like Clint Eastwood or Jean Claude Van Damme.” Similarly, another interviewee stated, “based on body I am a normal man…. Not that muscular … not having too much muscles in my body.” Within this framework, a muscular man embodied by Rambo is believed to be an example of a man who, “rained to deal with pain,” is more like “an animal” or, as stated by other interviewees, “a caveman” or “a wrestler.” Indeed, “macho is a body builder with small balls while a pretty boy is an intelligent male who is successful in life since he is more smart, more caring, and less leaning towards what male gender thinks of pretty boy kind.” Most interviewees perceived also that macho behavior may not be suffi cient or good enough to fulfi ll the inner masculine ideal. On the contrary, one participant stated: Some masculinity can take you in a bad direction. Aggressive can be bad to hate others or makes them a dog—going after all girls out there. This is because of their masculinity. If you let your masculinity get out of control then you are negative. Being a man does not mean you have to break the rules. According to Cornwall and Lindisfarne (1995 ), masculinity draws and impacts on a total of different elements, domains, identities, behaviors, and even objects, such as cars and clothing. Interviewee 2, when asked to compare the generation of his parents and grandparents as less or more manly, replied that “Now they are less manly. They act metrosexual. They wear tight pants, tight T-shirts, and spiky hair. They would be killed in Iran for doing that.” When asked “Are there any specifi c clothing or accessories that you observed in Bahrain that make a man more (look) manly?” interview 8 stated the following: “I would say a cap, the thobe (traditional 168 M. Karolak et al. clothing) even though it looks like a dress it is not. Even though the thobe looks like a dress since it is long, I still fi nd it manly. I do see it is manly but others may not.” This process of negotiation was revealed in Wetherell and Edley (1999 ) where their subjects engage in negotiations between heroic positions, ordinary positions, and rebellious positions. In the context of Bahrain, there is a negotiation of hegemonic masculinity as well as Islamic masculinity. Referring to hegemonic masculinity as the model for men may lead to a psychological strain, as revealed by one of the interviewees who clearly crossed the boundaries dictated by the model: “[Men] rather not cry outside but dwell tears like jackasses inside [due to] social pressure and the fear to be called gay,” or “Males are not family oriented, unlike females who are home builders, males are scared to act like females so they stay away from good feminine traits like taking care of their beauty because even though male are fags they would like to act macho making care of their beauty a fag thing.” On the other hand, the Islamic masculine ideal was seen as an impediment for certain types of behavior as revealed in this statement: “I love earrings but am glad I never pierced even though if I were American I’d done so.” The inner torment was also expressed by an interviewee who watched a movie presenting a transvestite character and for the fi rst time was made aware of this orientation: When I saw "the Crying Game" … I watched that movie in Kansas the fi rst time. I left the movie theatre in front of everyone and confused if I were gay or not… Because gay was a taboo subject to a point where in my mind it was like a contagious disease. So when I was feeling attraction towards the so-called lady until I realized it was a man, I felt disgusted. But I feel I was disgusted at watching a movie like that in dimensions I was not ever aware of before. I was confused as to who or what type I am attracted to. But then now that I think about it, I can assure myself from that incident that I am not gay whatsoever . Also I felt less of a man if I was under that impression that I was someone having gay traits, which by the way I doubted a few minutes during when I stepped out of the theater. Nonetheless, the strict Islamic code of behavior related to masculinity is seen by some interviewees as detrimental to the well-being of men and women since it is believed to force them into homosexual behavior: Yes … most of the religious people like if they are very religious they do not accept the other sex… the religious people like mutawa… or in Bahrain or in the Gulf… they don't like to … yani… let's say… for example… I am a religious man and I have some children… some daughters and some sons. I will be very strict on my daughters and strict on my sons not to be with other girls and strict with my daughter not to be with other boys. This strictness on children will be forced by family because the family is strict so they are unaware of how strictness affects. Their children will convert later on as third parties since they are young and have sexual feelings amongst themselves. So if a guy does not have the opposite sex to be relieved will relive amongst each other. Because of our traits in the region, culture, traits, are forcing boys are girls to become a third community. This is what I think … like I told you before the strictness of the … right now the Arab countries are not like before. They are more strict with religion and this … strictness is backfi ring on their children. So their children are becoming a part of the third party, especially the ladies. The question of being insecure about one’s masculinity was perceived in rather universal situations that refer to poor performance in social or economic situations. Two interviewees explained that “Well, if a guy is unable to hit on a girl because he Fluid Masculinities? Case Study of the Kingdom of Bahrain 169 is too shy. That’s not being a man” and “being a man means that you should be a goal getting, achieve, stand up for yourself, e.g., when I am hesitant of doing something or taking a challenge that is when I don’t feel man enough.” Others felt a threat to masculinity in the sexual sphere, “If I don’t get a hard on, then this could make a man insecure,” as well as in the job market where masculinity may be diminished by “joblessness” as well as a low salary: “Basically, I need to make more money than my wife does. Otherwise, she will be the man of the house.”

Masculinity, Societal, and Cultural Change

Culture, religion, and political, educational, and material institutions create and reinforce expectations about how men and women should behave (Cornwall and Lindisfarne 1995 ). In the anthropological sense, Hofstede (1998 , p. 5) sees culture as broad patterns of thinking, feeling, and acting that have important consequences for the functioning of societies, of groups within those societies, and of individual members of such groups. The rapid modernization of the Arabian Peninsula has had a deep impact on the societies of the region. Thanks to petroleum and natural gas resources, Bahrain has entered along with other GCC countries into an era of consumerism. Surplus of public revenues as well as an increase of individual income per average consumer allowed for a greater accessibility of foreign products in the GCC countries (Assad 2006 ). Bahrain, the smallest country in the Gulf region, has a limited manufacture base for consumer goods and thus depends heavily on imports. Modernization prompted creation of a market for necessary goods such as household and electronic equipment or cars. However, it led also to establishment of a strong market for Western luxury brands, thanks to the development of advertising popularized through the growing presence of mass media such as satellite TV and the Internet. Shopping has become a way of spending time for whole families that ﬂ ock to malls on the weekends. For consumers, Western brands are usually synonymous with high quality of products (Assad 2006 ). Preference for Western quality is also visible through implementation of Western know-how and technology transfer in the form of design, consulting, and education. Consumerist attitudes have been attractive especially for middle and upper-middle classes as a result of Western education, travel, or mixed marriages. A strong market is oriented towards Bahraini youth. The population of those under 24 years of age accounts today for nearly 60 % of the total population (Central Informatics Organization 2006 ). In the era of economic diversiﬁ cation, Bahraini authorities pushed for development of tourism and the leisure industry. Events such as the Formula 1 race put Bahrain on the tourist map and required development of a related tourist base. Leisure activities exist including, but not limited to, dining, spas, concerts, lounging, or clubbing. The franchising industry in the MENA region yields revenue of $14 billion with food franchising accounting for 40 % of this market (UAE Ministry of Economy 2009 ). All in all, consumerism has been undermining traditional culture (Ibrahim 1982 ). It is a new challenge in societies deeply shaped by Islam. As Turner (2000 ) noted, 170 M. Karolak et al.

“these developments of global mass consumerism can be seen as a further extension of westernization and symbolic penetration, providing a problematic mixture of localist cultures and mass universalism” (p. 145), an observation that applies equally well to Bahrain, as to other countries in the GCC region. The changes of lifestyle have affected the experience of masculinity in Bahrain and in the region; the interviewees perceived them as detrimental to masculinity of Arabian Gulf citizens. When asked “Do you think that Bahraini men are more masculine than other Gulf Arab?” one of the interviewees concluded: “I believe that masculinity is not materialistic and I feel other Gulf states are far more materialistic than Bahrain. Their environment makes them less masculine.” This view was shared by another participant who stated that Bahraini men are more masculine “due to more distractions available in society and being unable to appreciate the smaller things in life.” Similarly, another interviewee was skeptical about mixing cultural characteristics in modern-day Bahrain: I ’m proud of Arab men, as long as they don’t wear the prestigious thobe and qatra while drinking alcohol or driving a sports car. I think they are very manly people and when wearing such clothes should be on their prestigious Arabian horses. They should be proud of their heritage. They should show the Islamic identity if they want to wear their national dress, rather than wearing it and driving sports cars or drinking in a bar. Western infl uence may also be detrimental for Arab masculinity as noted by another Bahraini: “In our parents’ opinions our western infl uence is in confl ict without culture, before we were more manly. Man’s earrings or long hair is not accepted in our culture, these are feminine traits.” Impact of other cultures due to labor migration to Bahrain was also described as a threat to the hegemonic masculinity, which fi nds its embodiment in Saudi tribal men. As expressed by one interviewee, “Bahrain population since last few years has more Indians and in their culture the women are manlier. This affects the Muslim society. In KSA the women are more like women and men are more like men. This is another problem in Bahrain. Girls are too independent since they are well educated and are working. No one can have a say on her. Such women are against our culture. In true Arab culture, we follow a leader who is a wise man of the family. Despite hegemonic masculinity, which is rooted in the patriarchal organization of society, transformation of the Bahraini society has already begun with women stepping up to take men’s roles: “In Bahrain, some women are the man of the house. They raise and make decisions for their children. I know a lady who is separated. So she is raising her kids by working as a female taxi driver. I respect such women.”

Conclusion

This chapter has highlighted four major themes as they emerged from the interviews. These themes are hegemonic masculinity vs. Muslim masculinity, what masculinity is not, masculinity negotiations, and societal changes and the perception of masculinity, all within the context of Bahrain and Bahraini males. Fluid Masculinities? Case Study of the Kingdom of Bahrain 171

From the interviews it is apparent that the concept of masculinity is fl uid. Participants conceptualized masculinity as multidimensional. While hegemonic masculinity was rendered as the normative ideal, when it came to their lived experiences, participants distance themselves from such an ideal and deemed it out of the norm. Those that viewed themselves as regular males also perceived negative qualities of hegemonic masculinity by branding it in terms of “caveman” masculinity, “too aggressive,” “chasing girls” as well as pointing out the inability to express one’s emotions, and taking care of one’s looks. Hegemonic masculinity was mostly viewed in contrast with what can be loosely labeled as “smart” masculinity. Hegemonic masculinity was characterized by physiological and biological traits such as being muscular. In conjunction with these physiological traits, some psychological dimensions such as being aggressive and forceful and acting like an animal were identifi ed. In contrast “smart masculinity” was identifi ed merely in a psychological dimension such as being intelligent, caring, kind, logical, reasonable, and responsible. Looks were of secondary importance and were defi ned for almost all the participants simply as “not that muscular.” This conclusion is in line with Wetherell and Edley’s fi nding that “More commonly men portrayed themselves as ‘ordinary’ in relation to a macho stereotype dismissed as extreme, over the top, a caricature, seen as a sign of immaturity, and as a sign of a man who had not developed his own personal style or who was not comfortable with who he was” (1999 , p. 29). However, it is worth noting that these distinctions are not as clear cut as it appears. Participants engage in a constant process of negotiation, which is heavily infl uenced by the gender norms appropriate for the local culture. While most participants distanced themselves from hegemonic masculinity in its aggressive form, Bahraini men use hegemonic masculinity to position themselves as defenders of one’s honor and possessions (including family). In the context of patriarchy, the discourse of defending one’s honor is infl uenced by Arabic cultural values such as pride and the position of men as the heads and defenders of the clan. Bahraini men, though, reject the aggressive masculinity: they still think being in control is what defi nes a man; a man is someone who maintains the status quo of the hegemonic social order; “Men should be kind but eventually all should be in the man’s hands.” Hegemonic masculinity positions the man as a dominant character in relationships, accumulation and ownership of wealth, and protection of kith and kin. The negotiation of masculinity does not only take place between hegemonic masculinity as portrayed in Western culture but also a traditional element of hegemonic masculinity is revealed in the interviews. The positioning of men as protec- tors, controllers, and providers of the family is in juxtaposition with them being an embodiment of traditional cultural values as exemplifi ed by certain rituals and outward adornments such as clothing and being “on their prestigious Arabian horses.” In the discourse of identity construction, researchers argued that bodies often become sites of contestation and production and reproduction of identity narratives, national ideals, and symbolic sovereignty. Mayer (2000 ) argued that discourses of nationalism often arise in relation to gender and politics of body: “‘purity,’ ‘modesty,’ and ‘chastity’ are common themes in national narratives of gender” (p. 10). 172 M. Karolak et al.

Maintaining cultural heritage is associated with keeping moral standards high. Participants associated masculinity with traditional values such as clothes: “I’m proud of Arab men, as long as they don’t wear the prestigious thobe and qatra while drinking alcohol or driving a sports car.” Crossing the boundaries is expressed in embodiment of “Westernization,” through dress codes that do not conform to traditional clothes such as “tight pants, tights T-shirts, and spiky hair.” Connell and Messerschmidt (2005 ) stated, “hegemonic patterns of masculinity are embedded in social environments . . . [and] socially legitimated hegemonic models of masculinity are also in play in families” (p. 839). This is particularly relevant to the case of Bahrain. This study revealed that men do not feel threatened by women’s increased participation in the workforce. However, it is important to note that although Bahraini men interviewed for this research view female participation in society as positive and believe that women make a valuable contribution, women’s entrance to the labor force does not pose any threat to hegemonic masculinity because the patriarchal social norm remains intact. Even if a woman works a salaried job and supports the family at the same level as her male spouse, this does not change the gender roles within the family in which women are viewed as subordinate to men. As stated by one participant, “at the end of the day she is a woman and should give in to the man.” Culture and Islam are often cited as determinants and shapers of the gender relationships in the Middle Eastern societies. As one of the participants stated, “in true Arab culture, we follow a leader who is a wise man of the family.” The concept of qiwama (male leadership) through which a man is viewed as the leader of the family is a guiding principle in family relationships and family laws in many Islamic countries. Religious and cultural values keep the gendered social relations unchallenged “as behaviors and relations that respect and value the feminine character, as part of a natural social order—Allah’s will” (Metcalf 2006 , p. 104). Women’s participation in the labor market should ideally translate into economic empowerment, possession of technical skills, competence, possession and ownership of money, scaling the corporate ladder, and appropriating the necessary power, independence, and so on. Yet, this new and empowered status however is effectively countered by hegemonic masculinity validated by social institutions—religion and culture. These institutions not only elevate the status of men above women but also require a “perfect” woman to submit to male authority. The subjugation of women by men is also validated. Thus, hegemonic masculinity remains legitimate and is not threatened by women’s participation in the labor market, since there are no structural changes to the position of women in society. In conclusion it is evident that masculinity is a ﬂ uid and dynamic construct. While hegemonic masculinity does exist, we conclude that it is more of a normative ideal than a characteristic of the participants’ lived experiences.

Acknowledgments We would like to thank our Bahraini interviewer Mr. Anjum Razzaque for devoting his time to interviews for our study. Also, we would like to extend a sincere thank you to all the Bahraini men who agreed to participate in our study. One’s masculinity was not always a topic Bahraini men would feel comfortable talking about, and we are thankful to those who over- came their initial uneasiness: “With such a questionnaire you cannot have a lot of people answering in Bahrain. If this questionnaire was headed as ‘gay’ we would run away from answering it.” Fluid Masculinities? Case Study of the Kingdom of Bahrain 173

References

Assad, S. W. (2006). Facing the challenges of consumerism in Saudi Arabia. Arts, 19 (1), 1–20. Bahrain Economic Development Board (2010). 4% growth in economy and Bahraini workforce . Retrieved Feb 12, 2011, from http://www.bahrainedb.com/enewsletter/en/default. asp?action=article&id=70 Carrigan, T., Connell, R. W., & Lee, J. (1985). Toward a new sociology of masculinity. Theory and Society, 14 (5), 551–604. Connell, R. W. (1987). Gender and power . Sydney: Allen and Unwin. Connell, R. W. (1995). Masculinities . Cambridge: Polity. Connell, R. W., & Messerschmidt, J. W. (2005). Hegemonic masculinity: Rethinking the concept. Gender and Society, 19 (6), 829–859. Cornwall, A., & Lindisfarne, N. (1995). Feminist anthropologies and questions of masculinity. In A. Ahmed & C. Shore (Eds.), The future of anthropology: Its relevance to the contemporary world (pp. 134–157). Atlantic Highlands: Athlone. David, D. S., & Brannon, R. (1976). The forty-nine percent majority: The male sex role . Reading: Addison-Wesley. Donaldson, M. (1993). What is hegemonic masculinity? Theory and Society, 22 , 643–657. Elamin, A. M., & Omair, K. (2010). Males’ attitudes towards working females in Saudi Arabia. Personnel Review, 39 (6), 747–766. Femia, J. (1987). Gramsci’s political thought: Hegemony, consciousness, and the revolutionary process . New York: Oxford University Press. Gabbay, N., et al. (2011). Toward renewed constructions of masculinity and femininity: Measuring signiﬁ cant psychological differences between young men and women’s subjective experiences in their romantic relationships. International Journal of Psychological Studies, 3 (2), 200–216. Gender Gulf. (2008). The Economist. April 10, 2008. Giacaman, R., Jad, I., & Johnson, P. (1996). For the public good? Gender and social citizenship in Palestine. Middle East Report 198, 26 (1), 11–17. Hatem, M. F. (1998). Secularist and Islamist discourses on modernity in Egypt and the evolution of the post-colonial state. In J. L. Esposito & Y. Y. Haddad (Eds.), Islam, gender and social change (pp. 85–99). New York: Oxford University Press. Hijab, N. (2002). Women are citizens too: The laws of the state, the lives of women . New York: Regional Bureau for Arab States, UNDP. Hofstede, G. (1998). Masculinity/femininity as a dimension of culture. In G. Hofstede et al. (Eds.), Masculinity and femininity: The taboo dimension of national cultures (pp. 3–28). Thousand Oaks: Sage. Ibrahim, S. E. (1982). The new Arab social order: A study of the social impact of oil wealth . Boulder: Westview Press. Joll, J. (1978). Antonio Gramsci . New York: Penguin. Kelly, S. (2009). Recent gains and new opportunities for women’s rights in the Gulf Arab states. In Women’s rights in the Middle East and North Africa: Gulf Edition. Washington, DC: Freedom House. Komarovsky, M. (1992). The concept of social role revisited. Gender and Society, 6 (2), 301–313. Krauss, P. R. (1987). The persistence of patriarchy: Class, gender, and ideology in twentieth century Algeria . New York: Praeger. Kvale, S. (1996). Interviews: An introduction to qualitative research interviewing . Thousand Oaks: Sage. Levant, R. F., & Pollack, W. S. (1995). A new psychology of men . New York: Basic. Lindlof, T., & Taylor, B. (2002). Qualitative communication research methods (2nd ed.). Thousand Oaks: Sage. MacInnes, J. (1998). The end of masculinity . Buckingham: Open University Press. 174 M. Karolak et al.

Mahalik, J. R., et al. (2003). Development of the conformity to masculine norms inventory. Psychology of Men and Masculinity, 4 (1), 3–25. Mayer, T. (2000). Embodied nationalism. In A. S. Lynn, K. Eleonore, & P. Linda (Eds.), Mapping women, making politics: Feminists perspectives on political geography (pp. 153–167). London: Routledge. Mayo, P. (1999). Gramsci, Freire, and adult education: Possibilities for transformative action . London: Zed Books. Metcalf, B. D. (2006). Exploring cultural dimensions of gender and management in the Middle East. Thunderbird International Business Review, 48 (1), 93–107. Meth, R. L., et al. (1990). Men in therapy: The challenge of change . New York: The Guilford Press. Organization, C. I. (2006). Bahrain in fi gures . Bahrain: CIO. Patton, M. (2002). Qualitative research and evaluation methods (3rd ed.). Thousand Oaks: Sage. Ross, M. L. (2008). Oil, Islam, and women. American Political Science Review, 102 (1), 107–123. Rudman, L., & Glick, P. (2008). The psychology of gender: How power and intimacy shape gender relations . New York: Guilford Press. Sabbagh, A. (2007). Overview of women’s political representation in the Arab region: opportunities and challenges. In The Arab quota report: Selected case studies (pp. 7–18). Stockholm: IDEA—International Institute for Democracy and Electoral Assistance. Schlaffer, E., & Kropiunigg, U. (2011). Saudi youth: Unveiling the force for change. Gulf analysis paper . Schoenberg, B. M. (1993). Growing up male: The psychology of masculinity. London: Bergin and Garvey. Supreme Council for Women. (2001). Statistics on Bahraini women . Bahrain: SCW. Turner, B. S. (2000). Islam and consumerism. In J. Beynon & D. Dunkerley (Eds.), Globalization: The reader (pp. 145–147). New York: Routledge. UAE Ministry of Economy (2009). Investor’s guide to the UAE. Retrieved Jan 1, 2010, from http:// www.economy.ae/English/InverstorsGuide/Pages/default.aspx Wetherell, M., & Edley, N. (1999). Negotiating hegemonic masculinity: Imaginary positions and psycho-discursive practices. Feminism and Psychology, 9 (3), 335–356. Wilkenson, B., & Atti, A. (1997). UNDP microfi nance assessment report for Bahrain . United Nations Capital Development Fund. Retrieved Aug 28, 2007, from http://www.uncdf.org/english/microfi nance/uploads/country_feasibility/bahfi naldb.pdf Williams, K. (2003). Understanding media theory . New York: Oxford University Press. World Bank. (2009). World Bank development indicators . Washington: The World Bank. Masculinity in Ambiguity: Constructing Taiwanese Masculine Identities Between Great Powers

Ying-Chao Kao and Herng-Dar Bih

Masculinities are sets of gender practices that are constructed and embedded in certain historical, cultural, and social contexts (Connell 1987 , 1995 , 2002a , b , 2005 ). While previous studies have emphasized the multiplicity and complications of national masculinities, some regional masculinities which have emerged from diplomatically marginalized areas may have been ghettoized or even ignored. At the international level, understanding of masculinities is dominated by the perspective of Euro-American men, marginalizing the voices of masculine selves in Taiwan (i.e., Republic of China, ROC). As an island state widely seen as a “political orphan,” Taiwan is also ignored in the context of regional masculinity studies (Taga 2005 ). In contrast to masculinities in many other countries, masculine subjects in Taiwan have developed in the context of a conﬂ icting politico-economic structure. Taiwan has a strong global economic presence but is politically isolated. Since 1895, Taiwan endured 50 years of Japanese colonialism, followed by 38 years of authoritarianism under the KMT regime, but then emerged as a model of democra- tization and industrialization over the past two decades. The gap between Taiwan’s economic strength and political inﬂ uence has led to the development of masculinity in ambiguity in Taiwanese men. This ambiguity is derived from international politics but is manifested in the interpersonal and intrapsychic levels of Taiwanese masculine selves (Simon and Gagnon 1987 , 2003 ). In the past cold-war framework, Taiwan was viewed as a buffer between the democratic, US-led world and the communist world (led by Russia and China). This buffer created an ambiguous gray zone for great powers to negotiate their political and economic interests, while forcing Taiwanese men into a

Y.-C. Kao (*) Department of Sociology, Rutgers University, 26 Nichol Ave, New Brunswick, NJ 08901, USA e-mail: [email protected] H.-D. Bih Graduate Institute of Building and Planning, National Taiwan University, 1, Sec. 4, Roosevelt Road, Taipei 106, Taiwan e-mail: [email protected]

J. Gelfer (ed.), Masculinities in a Global Era, International and Cultural Psychology 4, 175 DOI 10.1007/978-1-4614-6931-5_10, © Springer Science+Business Media New York 2014 176 Y.-C. Kao and H.-D. Bih submissive position. This ambiguity has caused Taiwanese men to pragmatically self-identify as secondary global citizens, who are allowed to develop economic strength, but prevented from fully defending their diplomatic interests with other full-fl edged nations. This has had a signifi cant impact on the efforts of Taiwanese to position themselves strategically among three great regional powers (i.e., the United States, China, and Japan) and survive within such a structure. These structural tensions and confl icts have created a socially bipolar environment in which Taiwanese men seek to develop their masculine selves in the mental world. They are accustomed to switching roles between powerful and powerless and to reconcile their ambivalent positions between being masculinized and feminized. They often have to calculate when to yield their dignity and when to defend the principles. At the individual level, throughout the course of their lives, Taiwanese men face a series of tensions and confl icts extended from the larger society, especially in their adolescence, early adulthood, and mid-adulthood. The school life of Taiwanese male adolescents is dominated by an education system which emphasizes economic upward mobility. Thus, most male students follow the prescribed social norms but are reluctant to be viewed as teacher’s pets. After the age of 18, Taiwanese men are subject to mandatory military service. However, the ROC’s nominal military rival—the People’s Republic of China—has morphed from an adversary to one of Taiwan’s most signifi - cant trading partners, thus obviating the original purpose of their conscription. In early adulthood, Taiwanese men undergo military socialization which prepares them for employment in mid-adulthood. After stepping into the job market, many Taiwanese men are confronted with business situations which expose them to aspects of the sexual entertainment industry. Participation in sexual activities (implicit or explicit) while engaged in business with colleagues and clients is regarded as an act of male solidarity useful for facilitating business deals or resolving workplace confl icts but incurs a cost in terms of money, time away from family, and marital stability. This chapter examines mental tension and confl icts at both the macro and micro levels of Taiwanese men to identify ambiguities in Taiwanese conceptualization of masculinity. On the one hand, this research gives voice to those who have been silenced in East Asian studies of men and masculinities in the English-speaking world and thus expands and complements our understanding of the diversity of global masculinities. On the other hand, it draws attention to the development and transformation of this ambiguous Taiwanese masculinity. The construction of masculinities in Taiwan is discussed in the context of three popular and important gender practices which are fairly unique to Taiwan: aluba , doing soldier, and fl ower drinking, which are respectively associated with the adolescence, early adulthood, and mid-adulthood of Taiwanese men. We begin with a discussion of the similarity and inconsistency between Taiwanese and other East Asian masculinities, followed by a critical reading of wen – wu masculinity (Louie 2003 ) as an analytic tool for Taiwanese/Chinese masculinities. We then present three examples of the above-mentioned gender practices as a sequence and emphasize their signifi cance by comparing them with the Western pattern raised by Mac an Ghaill (1994 ). Finally, based on the Taiwanese case, we provide a new framework of ambiguous masculinity. We call for a more global framework of studies into sociopsychological masculinity, taking into consideration Masculinity in Ambiguity: Constructing Taiwanese Masculine Identities… 177 international politics and the global economy, challenging presumed national categories, and articulating macro and micro levels of masculinities, while illuminating how men’s masculine identities evolve and are self- constructed over their lives. However, before attempting to understand the ambiguity of Taiwanese masculinity, we must fi rst explain the current lack of understanding in this research area.

Understanding Taiwanese Masculinity in Transition

The signifi cance and fruitfulness of studies of Taiwanese masculinities have been underrepresented in the English-speaking world. In the anthology of global masculinities studies, Handbook of Studies on Men and Masculinities (Kimmel et al. 2005), Japanese scholar Futoshi Taga ( 2005 ) provides a comprehensive picture of East Asian masculinities in the traditional, modern, post-World War II, and contemporary eras. Taga accurately criticizes studies on East Asian masculinities as being “small in quantity and … relatively unknown” (p. 129) in the English-speaking world in which our knowledge of masculinities is dominated by Western perspectives or Western-produced research. But while he assumes that nationality is the primary form of categorization for East Asian masculinity, he largely ignores Taiwan which is an economic entity with an ambiguous political status which features independent social institutions and shares aspects of regional culture. The exclusion of Taiwan refl ects an inability to challenge assumptions regarding national boundaries to include more diverse masculinities, as well as a failure to assess how Taiwan’s political ambiguity substantially and metaphorically extends to the social and mental worlds of men. Underrepresentation of Taiwanese masculinity may also result from the unquestioned reduction of Chinese masculinity. Indeed, Taiwan has inherited a predominately traditional Chinese culture and gender regime due to long-term governance by the Qing dynasty (1683–1895) and the Kuomintang (KMT, 1945–2000) prior to the fi rst transfer of political power in 2000. However, its history of colonization under Spain and the Netherlands (1624–1662) and later under Japan (1895–1945) and the divergent politico-economic development following 1949 have led to the development of an immigrant society in Taiwan with a hybrid gender culture, resulting in Taiwan’s development of social and cultural conditions unique from those in contemporary China and other East Asian countries. The masculinities in Taiwan and other areas of East Asia have similarities and differences in both intellectual and historical contexts. From the intellectual perspective, compared with other East Asian masculinities, Taiwanese men are forced to face what we call double castration anxiety . On the one hand, Taiwanese men share the burden of stereotypes which Western society imposes upon Asian (American) men, seeing them as “inscrutable” and “more conservative,” “less sexual,” and “more intelligent” (Doyle 1989, pp. 290–291; see also in Louie 2003, p. 2). Confi rming Edward Said’s ( 1978) criticism toward orientalism, Louie (2003 ) argues that Asian men are racially castrated, while their masculinity is “penetrated, silenced, and possessed” (p. 3). 178 Y.-C. Kao and H.-D. Bih

On the other hand, unlike men from other East Asian countries, Taiwanese men are also nationally castrated. In everyday life, they are forced to continuously defend and fi ght for their masculinity based on national identity. When traveling abroad, Taiwanese men are frequently mistaken as being from the PRC, forced to provide additional explanation or documents to clear in dealing with immigration or law enforcement personnel to clarify their national status. In matters of international diplomacy, due to the PRC’s suppression of Taiwan’s international status, Taiwanese men are forced to assume unoffi cial identities (under corporations, NGOs, or academic institutions) to attend events sponsored by international organizations such as the United Nations or World Bank. 1 Even as Taiwanese athletes win Olympic medals, the ROC national anthem and fl ag are banned from the venues. Instead, they compete under the collectivity of “Chinese Taipei,” regardless of whether they actually live in Taipei or not. Double castrations due to racial desexualization and lack of national recognition put Taiwanese men in a doubly submissive position in international hierarchies of masculinity. In the competition with other globally hegemonic masculinities, for example, Caucasian or Black masculinity, Taiwanese men feel “psychologically ‘besieged’ and thus not quite ‘normal’” (Zhong 2000 ; see also in Louie 2007 , pp. 63–65) but also sociopsychologically isolated and invisible. At a minimum, while other East Asian men possess national identities upon which to build masculinities, Taiwanese men’s nationality and gender—two of fundamental categories to develop individual and collective identities—remain questioned and unstable and become the core sources of ambiguous masculinity. Acknowledging this failure to illuminate this issue of national castration anxiety leads us to consider the limited current understanding of Chinese masculinity, which is substantially related to Taiwanese masculinity. Louie (2002 , 2007 ) correctly rejects viewing the “yin – yang dyad” as an explanatory and descriptive tool for Chinese masculinity due to its mistaken emphasis on a two-sex dichotomy. Rather, he argues that the “wenÐwu paradigm” is a better framework to capture both of the mental or civil ideal (wen ) and the physical or martial ideal (wu ) in Chinese masculinity. Following Louie, we consider the wenÐwu paradigm as a better framework for Taiwanese masculinity than the yinÐyang dyad for four reasons. The yinÐ yang dyad has largely dominated Western understanding on Chinese masculinity but covertly perpetuates the dichotomy of gender and leads to tautological fallacies. 2 Second, the wenÐwu paradigm creates a new framework to analyze different combinations of two ideal types. This allows a Taiwanese man to be simultaneously wen (intellectually outstanding) and wu (physically strong), as opposed to yin (feminine) or yang (masculine). Thus, the wenÐwu framework fundamentally breaks up the Western mind–body dualism and appeals to be a more holistic perspective on manhood, not only balancing wen and wu ideals but also ultimately invoking multiple masculinities with different combinations of wen and wu performance. Third, like Chinese masculinity, for Taiwanese masculinity, the wenÐwu paradigm shows the exclusion of women from male-dominated realms. Take terms for military Masculinity in Ambiguity: Constructing Taiwanese Masculine Identities… 179 leaders, for example: Both the titles of civil generals (wen-jiang ) and martial generals (wu-jiang ) are reserved for males, while female offi cers are symbolically identifi ed as women’s headdress, compared with male’s bear (jinguo-burang-xumei ). Thus, the wenÐwu paradigm presents a new approach for theorizing and locating Taiwanese masculinity in the context of global hierarchies of masculinity. It rejects the hegemony of Euro-American masculinity and reveals stereotypes and misunderstandings that the West imposes upon Taiwanese masculinity. Furthermore, the wenÐwu philosophy provides a possible schema by which to integrate both mental/ physical and intellectual/martial ideals, thus allowing for the construction of a more comprehensive framework for understanding masculinity in Taiwanese and Chinese contexts as opposed to the Western dualist system. However, previous Chinese studies are mainly derived from textual analysis (especially ancient and historical texts) rather than fi eldwork or ethnography that would give voice to living men. In addition, most of these studies seek generalizable versions of Chinese masculinity across macro history, disregarding micro history which sheds light on how masculinities have developed throughout life-span stages. To fi ll the gaps, this research provides a Taiwan-centered investigation of how masculinities have been shaped in specifi c historical and social contexts and how Taiwanese men develop masculine selves across their life spans. As mentioned earlier, Taiwan is examined in a global context to provide insight into how masculine subjects interact with international politics and economics. Three of key examples are provided in regard to how men practice and construct masculinities: aluba , doing soldier , and fl ower drinking . These three examples represent three life stages in which men develop their masculine selves (respectively, adolescence, early adulthood, and middle adulthood) and three social fi elds where masculinities are constructed (school, the military, and work). These processes are part of the common experience and collective memory of most Taiwanese men, and all three are sex-related. We use mixed methods to explore diverse social fi elds. Aluba and doing-soldier studies mainly come from in-depth interviews and participatory observation respectively conducted by Bih and Huang (2012 ) and Kao (2006 ), supported by analysis on secondary data (e.g., newspapers, journals, photos, video, and online materials). The fl ower-drinking case is derived from secondary analysis of the studies by Hwang (2003 ), Bedford and Hwang (2011a , b ), and Chen (2006 ). We fi rst describe the social settings of the three cases. The construction of masculinity and masculine selves in different contexts is then discussed, along with how the identity of Taiwanese men has changed through the process. Then, by comparison with Mac an Ghaill’s ( 1994) Western pattern of masculinity, we discuss how the Taiwanese case shares some features of masculinity found in other societies but also shows discrepancies and explore the implications of these differences to our understanding of global masculine selves. Finally, empirical data are used to propose a concept of “masculinity in ambiguity” to shed light on those masculine selves who live on the periphery of the great powers and are characterized by either vague or unrecognized national identities. 180 Y.-C. Kao and H.-D. Bih

Making Taiwanese Masculinities: Aluba , Doing Soldier , and Flower Drinking

Aluba

Aluba is a popular activity on campus among adolescent male peers in which three or four boys lift up another boy by his arms and legs and pretend to attack him by rushing him crotch-fi rst toward a fl agpole or some other similar object. In the Western world, a similar activity can be seen in a scene in the fi lm The Faculty in which it was presented in the context of bullying. However, in Taiwan, this activity took on a more complicated meaning and has been transformed into a game played for mutual amusement. The activity itself is now referred to as aluba and involves “alubers” staging a mock attack on the “alubaee,” while the audience shouts encouragement to foster a cheerful atmosphere. The alubaee is not necessarily physically small or weak; nor is he seen as an object of bullying. In fact, the alubaee normally has a good relationship with his peers, and different boys in the group will take turns assuming the role of alubaee. Schools have banned the practice, but the ban is rarely enforced. We propose the following conditions which support the popularity of aluba . (1) Credentialism is an important value for Taiwanese people, and students spend the vast majority of their time engaged in academic study. This leaves them a need to vent social and academic pressure. (2) That students sit in assigned seats in a specifi c classroom leads to the development of intense friendships within the class. Aluba allows these groups of boys to express their friendship through physical contact and shouting. (3) Adolescent boys are curious about sex. Aside from watching pornographic materials, only 20 % have had sexual experience (Department of Health 2007 ). Aluba is a form of group interaction with distinct sexual overtones which allows the participants to establish their male identity. (4) Unlike team sports, aluba does not require a high level of skill, and the conditions required (e.g., access to a fl agpole) are easily fulfi lled. The above-mentioned characteristics make aluba a popular impromptu activity in Taiwan (Bih and Huang 2012 ).

Doing Soldier

After graduating from school, young Taiwanese men are institutionally directed to the next life stage. Doing soldier ( chòe-peng in Taiwanese) represents a process in which Taiwanese men are theoretically transformed from boys into men and construct their masculinities through compulsory military service. All male citizens aged 18–35 are subject to 1–2 years of conscription, ostensibly to train them as skillful warriors who then serve as reserves upon release from active duty. This conscription system is a political and historical product, instituted by the KMT government (led by Chiang Kai-shek) after its relocation from China in 1949 following its defeat in the Chinese civil war. However, nearly 50 years of détente and thawing relations across the Taiwan Strait have gradually undermined the original Masculinity in Ambiguity: Constructing Taiwanese Masculine Identities… 181 legitimacy of the conscription system. Trainings are routinized, and daily operations are more of an exercise in fulfi lling bureaucratic requirements than to train a real fi ghting force. Thus, the cultural gender meaning of military service has become more salient than its ostensible military purpose. The process of doing soldier can be observed at both structural and interpersonal levels. Structurally, doing soldier represents the ways in which the state sought to establish a new pro-military masculine ideal type. After World War II, following the retreat of Taiwan’s former Japanese colonial masters, the incoming KMT found the local population infused with anti-militarist sentiment. For example, proverbs such as “Good men won’t serve as soldiers; good iron won’t be used as nails” expressed a resistance to military institutions (Kao 2006 ). To counter these sentiments, the KMT launched an offi cial propaganda campaign to establish military service as a necessary rite of passage for all men, using slogans such as “Heroes are those who hold weapons and protect the society.” In addition, nursery rhymes and popular songs with militaristic themes were actively promoted to instill the idea that every boy desires to follow their male seniors to serve in the military. In this case, at the structural level, “doing soldier” implies the institutional and historical construction of nation-guaranteed masculinity. At the interpersonal level, “doing soldier” captures the living daily practices of manhood and male bonds that facilitate to formulate contemporary Taiwanese masculine identities. Borrowing from the characteristics of “doing gender” (West and Zimmerman 1987 ), doing soldier “involves a combination of socially guided percep- tual, interactional, and micropolitical activities that cast a particular pursuit as an expression of masculine …‘natures’” of the soldier’s identifi cation (p. 126). By formulating the process of conscription as doing soldier , we presume that being a soldier is not a given identity but a dynamic process in which men shed their “rookie” identity, earn recognition, and even compete for hegemonic status. For some, this experience includes losing their virginity to prostitutes in the company of members of their unit. Both openly gay and closeted soldiers may also have their fi rst same-sex encounters at this time, regardless of whether their units are gay friendly or not. In this case, practicing doing soldier trains teenagers to become adults and prepares them to pursue their future careers. The state has successfully established a guaranteed hegemonic and military masculinity, and inserts it to the life course of all Taiwanese men. Conscripts are equipped with work ethics and social networks, and inducted into the masculine culture through male bonding. In doing soldier, they are instructed about how to properly perform their gender and sexuality, which get them ready to step into workplace.

Flower Drinking

Flower drinking is a set of social practices in which a group of men visit commercial sex clubs (frequently under the guise of teahouses, karaoke bars, dance halls, night- clubs, barbershops, and so on) that offer a variety of erotic entertainment services (Hwang 2003 ; Simon 2003 ). 182 Y.-C. Kao and H.-D. Bih

In imperial China, education was largely restricted to men, who thus found it diffi cult to engage in intellectual discussion with their uneducated wives and often preferred the company of professional courtesans, trained in music, poetry, paint- ing, and chess. During the Japanese occupation of Taiwan, upper-class men enter- tained guests at dinners accompanied by singsong girls, while laborers pursued sexual activities in brothels. Taiwan’s sex industry continued to fl ourish and diver- sify with the KMT’s arrival in 1949, with economic growth and social mobility feeding a large and diverse market for pornography and prostitution under various guises catering to men of different socioeconomic classes. Businessmen and government offi cials frequently sealed negotiations at entertainment venues under a set of practices euphemistically known as fl ower drinking (Simon 2003 ). These practices included group toasting, telling jokes, singing, raucous drinking games, and physical contact. Sexual gratifi cation was not necessarily the point of these encounters, which served more as a group activity in which women served as social facilitators allowing the men to establish personal relationships, build networks, and accomplish business transactions (Hwang 2003 ).

Development of Hegemonic Masculine Selves in Taiwan

Prior studies on masculine culture have identiﬁ ed many key elements in establishing male bonds and masculine selves. Moreover, Taiwanese cases show some similarities and disparities from Western cases.

Compulsory Heterosexuality, Misogyny, Homophobia

Mac an Ghaill (1994 ) clarifi ed three main cultural elements of the construction of subjects for heterosexual male students: (1) compulsory heterosexuality, (2) misogyny, and (3) homophobia. These elements are achieved through gender boundary maintenance, supervision, and justifi cation of heterosexual male identifi cation. Thus, the heterosexual male is involved with dual relationships: on the one hand, external relationships which are abusive to females and homosexuals and, on the other hand, internal relationships which remove femininity and homosexual desires. In a similar vein, Youdell (2005 ) believed that sex, gender, and sexuality have become an integrated whole in students’ daily practices (including physical behavior, play, and clothing) to shape subjective identity. To establish dominant masculinities in schools, boys try to keep a distance from girls (Nardi 1992), endure risks (Seidler 2006), and gather together in gangs to exercise control over space (Whitehead 2002 ). Based on these fi ndings, we discuss aluba , doing soldier, and fl ower drinking in terms of how Taiwanese men’s sex, gender, and sexuality develop over the course of life. Aluba represents a collective activity in which boys start to become accustomed to misogyny and heteronormativity early in school life. Basically, aluba is a male- bonding game played exclusively by male peers without any female participants Masculinity in Ambiguity: Constructing Taiwanese Masculine Identities… 183 and explicitly rejects femininity. Adolescent boys fi nd alubaing to be an appropriate way to celebrate a friend’s birthday, whereas eating birthday cake is seen as being too feminine. Aluba not only excludes females and femininity but actively reassures the participants’ internal male identity. The male identity in aluba is mainly organized around sexual symbols. For example, by showing (real or mock) pain, the alubaee certifi es that he has a penis, which proves his biological maleness. As seen in a self-made documentary, 3 school boys playing aluba creatively use campus equipment to demonstrate their sexual ability by supposedly damaging handrails and other objects or by turning on lights by ramming the light switch with the alubaee’s crotch. Given the general inappropriateness of stripping down for visual inspections, the “products” of aluba (e.g., damaged rails) allow boys to symbolically verify their maleness, perform their sexual strength, and consolidate their solidarity. In addition, aluba is explicitly understood to not imply homosexuality on the part of participants because “being gay” (gao gay ) would ruin their fun and pollute the purity of their heteronormative masculinity. But it isn’t to say that closeted gay students would not pass as straight to join in aluba activities where male-on-male physical contact is legitimate. In the meantime, aluba opens a space for straight boys to enjoy pleasure from bodily intimacy among boys while not risking their hetero-normality (Kehily and Nayak 1997 ). The misogyny, male bonding, and compulsory heterosexuality that male teenagers learn in school are further consolidated and developed when they transition to doing soldier. While women are now allowed to serve in the military, the ROC armed forces are still over 90% male. This intense proximity of men brings out a greater diversity of masculinities from the larger society. Men from different social classes, educational levels, regions, religions, languages, gender parameters, sexual orientations, and degrees of socialization live together in the military, and are forced to undergo a “secondary adjustment” to each other and the military institution (Goffman 1961 ). In such a highly masculine but diverse climate, men’s cultural scripts, sexual games, and seniority (discussed later) are the three main gender lessons that conscripts learn from doing soldiers . Cultural scripts are the gender lesson that Taiwanese men learn from doing soldier. To survive in the military, they have to understand a specifi c etiquette: To whom should they salute, as opposed to shaking hands? How should they properly show friendship with smiles and greetings? Material exchange is another issue. For example, “offering cigarettes” is one of the easiest ways to show friendship, to articulate a relationship, or to build up a male circle. Sometimes “serving wine” at round-table banquets has similar meanings, while it also creates the chance to test the relationship, explain misunderstandings, and reconcile confl icts. In addition, it is well known that bringing “concepts” (food as gifts) back to the barracks after off days is the accepted way to show concern for colleagues and respect to seniors. Here abstract concepts of seniority have been materialized as rituals of giving gifts of food to one’s seniors or colleagues. This conceptualization of hierarchy ethics shows in the language used by conscripts, in which the food is referred to as a “concept,” where the one with concepts (i.e., the one who brings the concepts back to the barracks) has concepts (of hierarchy, seniority, and solidarity). The distribu- tion and exchange of cigarettes, drinks, and food represent the subtle infrastructure 184 Y.-C. Kao and H.-D. Bih upon which male bonds are built and are important for establishing an “in group” among men. The roles of females in sexual fantasies and the at-risk masculinities shown in conscripts’ sexual life and games further confi rm misogyny, compulsory heterosexuality, and homophobia. Generally speaking, the climate of panoptic surveillance and repressed sexual conduct in the military results in a deep castration anxiety for Taiwanese men (see Simon and Gagnon 1987 ’s discussion on sexual conduct). Accounts on the inten- sive initiation training indicate a lack of sexual fantasies or arousal. A widely distributed rumor holds that vaccinations received on the fi rst day of training include a “docility shot” and that additional “docility medicine” is added to their drinking water to intentionally suppress sexuality. One of Kao’s (2006 ) interviewees reports that, on the last day of training, he happily announced, “I can fi nally be a man again today.” Widespread rumors and fears of “secret medicines” to reduce conscripts’ sexual impulse indicate how anxious the conscripts are and how dangerous they consider their masculinity to be as a result of coercive abstinence. While sexual conduct is repressed in the military, sexual discourse is productive and widespread (Foucault 1990 [1978]). Sexual jokes are ubiquitous. Some soldiers personalize and feminize their guns as “girlfriends,” while others eroticize routine artillery maintenance activity as “jerking off the giant.” Some soldiers may greet with each other by asking about or sharing details about their off-duty sexual encounters, while others engage in casual misogyny by complaining about female fi gures or using abstract female images in cursing (e.g., “Fuck yo muther” [kàn lí niâ]). The sexual rhetoric is not only personal but also institutional. In his ethnography, Kao (2006 ) observes that a warning sign on a refrigerator says, “It is not easy to purchase and maintain the machine. Please treasure it as much as you do your girlfriend” (p. 154). Given the low proportion of female soldiers and offi cers, women are physically absent in most military situations but are symbolically ubiquitous through these types of sexualized discourse and misogyny. Nonheterosexuality in the military complicates sexual scripts among soldiers (Simon and Gagnon 1987 ). Taiwan has no equivalent of a “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy to prevent homosexuals from serving, but a pervasive climate of homophobia exists at the interpersonal level, with constant jokes about “picking up soap” implying anal sex among men. Any actions perceived as feminine can label a recruit as suspiciously unmasculine and single him out for ridicule. On the other hand, gay conscripts may queer the heteronormative environment through their fantasies. Some gay interviewees in Kao’s (2006 ) in-depth interviews indicated that they queerly reread the heterosexualized routine scenes of artillery maintenance. They recognize that their straight colleagues are engaged in imagined mas- turbation by feminizing the weapon; however, rather than feel uncomfortable by being marginalized, these gay conscripts enjoy watching the scenes of physical exertion as if their straight colleagues were really masturbating. Traditional conditions of sexual harassment are also queerly reread and practiced. One interviewee reported playing a semi-sexual harassment game with his superiors in which his superiors chased and held him while he was supposed to avoid capture. Though he indicated no interests in these “old, ugly, fat” superior offi cers, he did enjoy playing Masculinity in Ambiguity: Constructing Taiwanese Masculine Identities… 185 the sexual game because it was fun and helped him establish a better relationship with his superiors. As Kao notes: Sexual games are the lubricant in rigid bureaucratic relations… Via sex and sexual games, men collage and reorganize their fragmented selves, which have been deconstructed and destroyed by military governance. The sexual symbols that men use in sexual languages and games refer not only to physical genital sex. They are also derived from local military equipment and shared experience, which are consciously and creatively appropriated and transformed into collective fantasies. This mechanism facilitates the accomplishment of a collective eroticism and masculine identity in the Taiwanese military. (Kao 2006 , p. 156) The development of masculine selves is related to how men interact with female actors in a given context. In terms of fl ower drinking, Hwang (2003 ) indicated that sexual club hostesses play three kinds of roles: (1) Caretakers who attend to and pacify the male participants while showing obedience and playing the role of gentle and uncritical listener. (2) Social facilitators, initiating and maintaining a cheerful atmosphere to help their male customers to please their clients. Facilitated by the hostesses’ services, men can shed their public personas, thus eliminating defen- sive and social distance. (3) Sexual objects, fl irting and playing sexual games with male customers. In other words, the hostesses play both sexy sluts and docile maids at the same time to foster men’s male bonding and their masculinity. It is noteworthy that even if fl ower drinking is highly sexual, the main purpose of fl ower drinking is not sexual intercourse. If men want sex, brothels present a more convenient and less expensive option than fl ower drinking. Rather, the point of fl ower drinking is to have a good time and bond with other men (Bedford and Hwang 2011b , p. 89). Through the attention of compliant women, fl ower drinking gives men a sense of power and raises their self-image. The attention of the hostesses is seen as a gift from the male host to his guests, as opposed to a monetary bribe. Managers use it to promote group bonding; businessmen use it to close deals and have a good time. Through the uncritical attention of the hostesses, men “become emperors,” and the hostess club is “like a gas station where the hostesses could refi ll [the client’s] masculinity” (Bedford and Hwang 2011b , p. 90). Flower drinking has become an institutionalized practice and is an important aspect of career performance for men. Rather than admit to sexual desire, men rather regard fl ower drinking as a normal type of social engagement or just “go along for the ride” to fi t in the culture without guilt. Thus, fl ower drinking allows for the completion of business transactions but also fulfi lls the clients’ erotic desire.

Quanxi

The discussion above explains why Taiwanese masculinities share similar characteristics of misogyny, homophobia, and compulsory heterosexuality raised by Mac an Ghaill (1994 ) to construct heterosexual male subjects. In addition to the three global elements, in the local context “guanxi ” (social networking) and male bonding are critical in the construction of Taiwanese masculinity. 186 Y.-C. Kao and H.-D. Bih

In aluba, the focus is the alubaee. Seemingly, the alubaee’s body is controlled by the alubaers, but in fact, he is simultaneously treated as an object of worship. As one interviewee noted, “I don’t think [being alubaed] entails a loss of male dignity. Instead, they have built a stage for me and allowed me to be the centre of public attention” (Bih and Huang 2012 , p. 155). The person who is most frequently alubaed is usually characterized as being companionable, amenable, and loyal, while showing leadership qualities. Mutuality is thus very important in that role switching is an integral part of the activity. While relationships among adolescent boys are quite simple and pure, military conscripts have to build good gaunxi to pursue one’s own interest in a very harsh environment. And, as students move from school to the military, their formerly equal status gives way to a formal hierarchy among soldiers. In contrast to offi cial military ranks, seniority is a type of informal but powerful gaunxi . In the Taiwanese military, seniority is based on hidden transcripts that create hierarchies among conscripts by the time they enter the military. Chen (2004 ) characterized it as an “order of time,” in which “soldiers are divided into two groups—senior and junior. Soldiers perform differently according to how they are located in different stages of the senior–junior status: the junior’s body always shows a kind of ‘voluntarily energetic manner,’ while the senior acts ‘sluggishly’” (p. 181). Compared with their status in civil society where men may be born into middle or upper positions of gender, class, and racial/ethnic hierarchies, in the military every man starts out by being degraded, stripped of any previously taken-for- granted privileges. Conscripts have to climb the ladder of seniority, from “nonhuman” through feminized human (“pussy,” “lady”), manhood, and fi nally alpha male. Unlike in ordinary workplaces and organizations, seniority in the Taiwanese military is characterized by two unique aspects. Firstly, new recruits rise up the seniority escalator very rapidly, with men being promoted from the extreme bottom to the top in just 1 or 2 years, as opposed to decades in conventional organizations. Secondly, seniority is interwoven with the offi cial ranking system to create a unique but paradoxical “dominated male–dominator” culture. On the one hand, those at the top enjoy privilege and respect from their juniors, but they are well aware that they are still subordinate to others who outrank them. On the other hand, higher-ranked offi cers may also have to show respect and share power with those who have lower offi cial rank but rank higher in terms of seniority. This interweaving of seniority and rank provides an environment in which Taiwanese men learn to execute power over the powerless, obey the powerful, and maneuver within the gap between the two. In this case, Taiwanese conscripts show us that men are not born to be dominating but learn to dominate some and be subservient to others, as circumstances dictate. In commercial workplaces, in addition to swapping stories from their time in the military, men participate in fl ower drinking as an important means to build guanxi , extend social networks, and achieve work-related goals. In these activities, men exchange political and economic interests in a fun and convivial atmosphere. Flower drinking is institutionalized as a social game. Frequent customers bring personal desire to the game of power exchange in the public sphere under the guise of offi cial affairs or work. In addition, many are in a position to use nonpersonal funds (either corporate or government) to engage in fl ower drinking, and the ability to host such activities grants men a higher status among their peers. A man who refuses to join in might be ridiculed Masculinity in Ambiguity: Constructing Taiwanese Masculine Identities… 187 and criticized for not showing respect for others and lacking machismo (Bedford and Hwang 2011a ). Men’s masculine identities are also reinforced in these processes.

The Developmental Perspective of Masculinity

Here, we address a more comprehensive framework of masculinity which considers the global roles of sex, gender, and sexuality, as well as local elements of guanxi , and takes into account the developmental perspective, such as the evidence provided by aluba , doing soldier , and fl ower drinking . The roles of sex, gender, and sexuality become prominent as early as adolescence. Although fewer than 20% of adolescent boys in Taiwan report having engaged in sexual intercourse, their participation in aluba provides way to explore sexuality. By symbolically attacking the genitals of their male peers, boys confi rm their male identity and bonding. Girls are entirely excluded from aluba, but the activity does not seek to devalue or depreciate girls. For Taiwanese men in their early adulthood, mandatory military service constitutes a national rite of passage. During the service, even if most male conscripts are physically separated from women in single sex dormitories, women are symbolically present through jokes and banter during training. In addition, during this life stage, some conscripts have their fi rst exposure to the commercial sex work industry. Sexual games learned from school, like aluba , are also integrated into military life and are extended through other forms of roughhousing and competitive drinking. Thus, while seniority and cultural scripts constitute the institutional and interpersonal guidelines of the masculine community, sexual games provide the intrapsychic links that sociopsychologically enclose men into one collective masculine identity: we are we-man , not women (physically or symbolically). As men grow older, sex moves from the area of imagination to that of actual practice. Aside from sex with intimate partners, some men buy sex in brothels. Flower drinking, meanwhile, functions as a way to build male bonding and fulfi ll job goals, with women (hostesses) serving as mediators to create and maintain a festive atmosphere, facilitate male bonding, and fl irt with male customers. To strengthen male dominance, male customers release their repressed emotion and desire through buying the hostesses’ services. In addition, since working women or businesswomen cannot participate in fl ower drinking, they are deprived of the opportunity to exchange information or build useful relationships (Hwang 2003 ) and thus suffer from reduced competitiveness in the job market. Women in marriage are also hurt because of their husband’s engagement with other women.

Conclusion: Masculinity in Ambiguity

This research provides with a life-span study of Taiwanese masculinities to compen- sate for the incomplete understanding of East Asian masculinities in the English- speaking world. We argue that the previous neglect of Taiwanese masculinities is 188 Y.-C. Kao and H.-D. Bih not accidental but a result of the structured framework of international politico- economics, which is represented in the daily practices of Taiwanese men. Taiwan’s vague diplomatic status produces a structural setting for what we call masculinity in ambiguity , a unique confi guration of masculine practices that we observe in Taiwanese men’s self-development. Masculinity in ambiguity is manifest in four dimensions: international, institutional, interpersonal, and developmental. In the international dimension, Taiwanese men have been constituted as inherently dependent. Following World War II, international powers (especially the USA) treated Taiwan as a buffer between the democratic world and the communist world. After the ROC was replaced by the People’s Republic of China as China’s sole representative in the United Nations in 1971, Taiwan subsequently lost diplomatic relationships with most countries, becoming an unrecognized entity and buffer among mega-powers (e.g., the USA, Japan, and China). Since then, Taiwanese men have existed in an ambiguous state, as citizens of a country that is not widely recognized but whose passports are widely accepted, an energetic and infl uential economic entity that is excluded from most international organizations. Thus, on the international stage, suppression by China and exclusion by other countries force Taiwanese men to learn to survive in a highly constricted diplomatic space. Their survival has multiple meanings: it identifi es men as the default breadwinners (economic strength) and assigns them the role of securing Taiwan’s position from being undermined by China (political strength); it shows how eagerly men desire pride (“the Glory of Taiwan”) but how fearful they are of displaying it; in addition, their survival indicates how Taiwanese men struggle with double castration anxiety, which implies racial castration as stereotyped feminine men and national castration as unrecognized global citizens. Hence, the international structure fragments and restricts Taiwanese masculinities, creating ambiguity at the next, institutional level. At the institutional level, masculinity in ambiguity represents the various interactions between the top, hegemonic masculinity, and the bottom, subordinate masculinity (Connell 1995 , 2005 ). Its in-between position has resulted in it being ignored by previous studies, which usually focus on the polarized extremes. As we have shown, three popular men’s activities—aluba , doing soldier , and fl ower drinking — capture the practices of men positioned in the middle of gender, class, and body hierarchies, while the situated hegemonic and subordinate men are left out of the scope. At school, shy, self-contained, and academically oriented students (nerds) resist participating in the pseudo-violent activities of aluba , while truly rebellious students disdain aluba as being too feminine and childish. Despite its obligatory nature, doing soldier also demonstrates the privileges of elites who can use their social connections to secure a waiver, while the physically and mentally unfi t are also excluded from military service. In addition, as a popular heterosexual activity for middle- and upper-ranking businessmen , fl ower drinking excludes the working class, the unemployed, women, and homosexuals. Positioned at the top of the economic hierarchy, the elite can exploit their economic and political power without partaking in fl ower drinking. The ambiguity shown in the institutional dimension demonstrates the participants’ standing in the middle of the class, gender, and sexuality hierarchies. They are neither powerful nor powerless but somewhere in the Masculinity in Ambiguity: Constructing Taiwanese Masculine Identities… 189 middle. To achieve career and social success, these “middlemen” have to develop many survival strategies to develop and secure their selves at the interpersonal level. The ambiguity during men’s interpersonal interaction emphasizes how vague, multifold, and fl exible these masculine practices are in exercise and interpretation. The hidden dramaturgical scripts in different situations are widely recognized but unmentionable (Goffman 1959 ). In aluba , men seem to attack the other’s genitals, but there is no actual injury or humiliation. Rather, it’s seen by all participants as simply a way to celebrate a birthday, show friendship, share happiness, or just have fun. Hurt feelings, sexual arousal, or actual injury would ruin the fun. During doing soldier, the drama- turgy is even shared in the collective identity. People say, “In doing soldier, nothing is real except demobilization” (Kao 2006 ). Soldiers consciously understand they are involved in a great drama and make fun of the roles they are expected to play. A com- manding offi cer is seen as the director, while the subordinates are actors. However, the “directors” in this scenario are also subordinate to others, and each actor may have superiority over actors whom he can direct as he sees fi t, thus preserving his “face” (dignity). In addition, some digital- generation conscripts conceptualize their military selves as virtual, like identities created in online games. In this line of thinking, being on duty is the equivalent of logging on, while being off duty allows one to retreat into civilian life. In this case, the differentiation between old selves and role-playing, between offl ine and online, creates a necessarily ambiguous zone. In this ambiguous state, it is acceptable for masculine men to be totally obedient to other men (because it is just a drama); otherwise, disreputable conduct experience in the military does not violate their own civilian self-identities (because it is a virtual existence). Ambiguity at the interpersonal level also explains why men can have sexual fun with unfamiliar girls in fl ower drinking without ruining their self-image despite their wives, mothers, and daughters waiting for them at home. For them, fl ower drinking is considered as just the way to “join in the fun on occasion” and is not to be taken seriously. Thus, fl ower drinking creates another ambiguous zone between the workplace and home—an in- between place where those who dislike the culture can justify their involvement by saying it is just for business—thus allowing them to maintain a companionate intimate relationship in marriage. For those who intend to enjoy the experience, the ambiguity provides a legitimate reason to do it as a group. Therefore, ambiguity at the interpersonal level provides a gray area for men to suspend their conventional identities, insu- lating their dignity from feelings of guilt, shame, or responsibility. Because masculine selves in ambiguity are temporal, occasional, and fl exible, men feel comfortable crossing boundaries of same-sex touching (e.g., in aluba ), to be degraded as powerless and gradually assume power (doing soldier) and to strategically use sexual services to exchange economic interests without self-condemnation. Lastly, this study depicts the fi nal level of masculinity in ambiguity, the developmental level. These masculine selves have been developed in an ambiguous situation from adolescence through early adulthood to mid-adulthood. As we have seen above, Taiwanese men start to play multi-meaning games in school. They are then separated from nurturing females and forced into close ties with their male peers and senior men to learn men’s culture, inherit the state’s consolidated patriarchal ideology, and establish male bonding for future use. After demobilization, men return to society to be reunited with their families as nominally independent adults, expected to fi t in established 190 Y.-C. Kao and H.-D. Bih masculine categories. Throughout this process, men gradually become accustomed to performing their required scripts, have fun during the performance, and eventually become socialized as certifi cated masculine beings. In this process they may have opportunities to deviate from the script or resist each instituted design. But these resis- tances rarely challenge the construction of ambiguous masculinities in their life courses. To conclude, the concept of masculinity in ambiguity provides a new framework of sociopsychological masculinity studies in the era of globalization. We argue that national boundaries and identities should not be considered as default categories of state-based masculinity. Taiwan lacks recognition as a country but shows great diversity and theoretical potential of masculinity. In a globalized context, local masculine selves are penetrated and infi ltrated by transnational power. We expect that future men and masculinity studies take account of the four levels of ambiguity—international, institutional, interpersonal, and developmental—to assess how these vague, multifold, and fl exible forces operate and are interwoven to constitute globalized masculine selves.

Notes

1. Taiwan’s international economic infl uence is not correspondingly refl ected in its diplomatic signifi cance. As of 2009, Taiwan has the world’s fourth largest foreign currency reserves and was the world’s 26th largest economy (Global Trends 2009 ). Taiwan’s high-quality labor force and high literacy rates have helped it emerge as a world-class supplier of high-technology products (electronics, semiconductors, and digital displays). Other achievements include Taiwan’s development as a leader in the greater China cultural and creative industries, while providing Taiwan’s citizens with equitable access to advanced health-care services. This huge structural gap between Taiwan’s position in international politics and the global economy is the basis of the main institutional contradiction which profoundly infl uences Taiwanese masculinity. 2. The “yinÐyang ” dyad provides a metaphysical view which splits the universe into dichotomies. In human society, yinÐyang corresponds to binary sex (female–male) and gender (feminine– masculine). In nature, people also use yinÐyang to dichotomously acknowledge the world (dark–light, moon–sun, water–fi re, life–death, and so on). Although it grants the possibility for the mutual interaction and reciprocal change of two poles, the yinÐyang philosophy produces a tautological fallacy, which tends to use societal order to explain natural law, which is then used to perpetuate societal order. 3. Hrcspkla. (2006). 313 aluba rite of passage . Retrieved Jan 12, 2010 from http://www.youtube. com/watch?feature=player_detailpage&v=yqN41TgChFU

References

Bedford, O., & Hwang, S.-L. (2011a). Building relationships for business in Taiwanese hostess clubs: The psychological and social processes of guanxi development. Gender, Work and Organization . doi: 10.1111/j.1468-0432.2011.00576.x . Bedford, O., & Hwang, S.-L. (2011b). Flower drinking and masculinity in Taiwan. Journal of Sex Research, 48 (1), 82–92. Bih, H.-D., & Huang, H. (2012). Aluba and “high” culture: Adolescent male peer culture in play. Gender and Education, 24 (2), 147–158. Chen, C.-L. (2004). Engendering soldiers in the Taiwanese military: Obedience, masculinities and resistance. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, Lancaster University, Lancaster. Masculinity in Ambiguity: Constructing Taiwanese Masculine Identities… 191

Chen, M. H. (2006). Labour, the body, and sexuality: Women sex workers’ negotiation of public and private sex and work. Taiwanese Sociology, 11 , 1–55 (in Chinese). Connell, R. W. (1987). Gender and power: Society, the person and sexual politics . Stanford: Stanford University Press. Connell, R. W. (1995). Masculinities . Cambridge, UK: Polity Press. Connell, R. W. (2002a). Gender (polity short introductions) . Malden: Blackwell. Connell, R. W. (2002b). Study men and masculinities. Resources for Feminist Research, 29 (1–2), 43–56. Connell, R. W. (2005). Hegemonic masculinity: Rethinking the concept. Gender and Society, 19 (6), 829–859. Department of Health (2007). Global student reproductive health survey. Retrieved Oct 24, 2012 from http://www.doh.gov.tw Doyle, J. A. (1989). The male experience (2nd ed.). Dubuque: Brown. Foucault, M. (1990[1978]). History of sexuality: An introduction (Vol. 1). New York: Vintage Books. Global Trends (2009). Corporate clout: The infl uence of the world’s largest 100 economic entities . Retrieved Aug 24, 2012, from http://www.globaltrends.com/knowledge-center/features/ shapers-and-influencers/66-corporate-clout-the-influence-of-the-worlds-largest-100- economic-entities Goffman, E. (1959). The presentation of self in everyday life . Garden City: Doubleday. Goffman, E. (1961). Asylums: Essays on the social situation of mental patients and other inmates . Garden City: Anchor Books. Hwang, S. L. (2003). Masculinity and Taiwan’s fl ower-drinking culture. Taiwanese Sociology, 5 , 73–132 (in Chinese). Kao, Y.-C. (2006). Doing soldier as a male ritual: A study of the service process of conscripted soldiers’ masculinities in Taiwan (2000Ð2006). Master’s thesis, National Taiwan University, Taipei City. (in Chinese). Kehily, M. J., & Nayak, A. (1997). ‘Lads and laughter’: Humor and the production of heterosexual hierarchies. Gender and Education, 9 (1), 69–87. Kimmel, M. S., Hearn, J., & Connell, R. W. (Eds.). (2005). Handbook of studies on men and masculinities . Thousand Oaks: Sage. Louie, K. (2002). Theorising Chinese masculinity: Society and gender in China . New York: Cambridge University Press. Louie, K. (2003). Chinese, Japanese and global masculine identities. In K. Louie & M. Low (Eds.), Asian masculinities (pp. 1–15). London: Routledge. Louie, K. (2007). Chinese masculinities. In M. Flood, J. K. Gardiner, B. Pease, & K. Pringle (Eds.), International encyclopedia of men and masculinities (pp. 63–65). London: Routledge. Mac an Ghaill, M. (1994). The making of men: Masculinities, sexualities and schooling . Philadelphia: Open University Press. Nardi, P. M. (1992). Seamless souls: An introduction to men’s friendship. In P. M. Nardi (Ed.), Men’s friendships (pp. 1–14). Newbury Park: Sage. Said, E. W. (1978). Orientalism . New York: Vintage Books. Seidler, V. J. (2006). Young men and masculinities: Global cultures and intimate lives. London: Zed Books. Simon, S. (2003). Sweet and sour: Life-worlds of Taipei women entrepreneurs. Lanham: Rowman and Littlefi eld. Simon, W., & Gagnon, J. H. (1987). A sexual scripts approach. In J. Geer & W. O’Donaghue (Eds.), Theories of human sexuality (pp. 363–383). New York: Plenum. Simon, W., & Gagnon, J. H. (2003). Sexual scripts: Origins, infl uences and changes. Qualitative Sociology, 26 (4), 491–497. Taga, F. (2005). East Asian masculinities. In M. S. Kimmel, J. Hearn, & R. W. Connell (Eds.), Handbook of studies on men and masculinities (pp. 129–140). Thousand Oaks: Sage. West, C., & Zimmerman, D. H. (1987). Doing gender. Gender and Society, 1 (2), 125–151. Whitehead, S. M. (2002). Men and masculinities . Cambridge, UK: Polity. Youdell, D. (2005). Sex–gender–sexuality: How sex, gender and sexuality constellations are constituted in secondary schools. Gender and Education, 17 (3), 249–270. Zhong, X. (2000). Masculinity besieged? Issues of modern and male subjectivity in Chinese literature of the late twentieth century literature . Durham: Duke University Press. Historical Sediments of Competing Gender Models in Indigenous Guatemala

Brent E. Metz and Meghan Farley Webb

Guatemala is synonymous with the natural beauty of its volcanic mountains, ancient Mayan ruins, colorful contemporary Mayan populations, and the unspeakable violence of a 36-year civil war (1960–1996). Although rich in natural resources, including some of the best coffee and tropical fruit lands in the world, the country remains divided between an indigenous poor and a Hispanic (Ladino) middle and upper class. The farther one goes from the capital, Guatemala City, the more rural and indigenous one is likely to be. Furthermore, indigenous Guatemalans are more likely to be poor, malnourished, and reliant on subsistence agriculture. This is a legacy not only of the ancient Mesoamerican past but also of marginalization and racism with roots in the Spanish colonial period (1524–1821). The Spanish Creoles and their descendants have typically seen Mayan cultures as impediments to modernization. Solutions to the “Indian problem” have ranged from paternalism to outright violence, but overall the strategies have involved more “stick” than “carrot.” While the overt racism of the past has been replaced with what Charles Hale (2006 ) terms “racial ambivalence,” racism, perceived racism, and counter-racism are omnipresent. Despite the massacres during the civil war, 20 Mayan languages continue to be spoken in the country. The Mayan language groups on which we focus here, the Kaqchikel and the Ch’orti’, represent two ends of a spectrum between large, economically diverse highland groups buffered by other Mayan populations and poor lowland groups with relatively few speakers engulfed by Ladinos. Kaqchikel is the second largest Mayan linguistic group with roughly 500,000 speakers, while Ch’orti’ is spoken by no more than 15,000 people, the vast majority of whom reside

B. E. Metz (*) Department of Anthropology , University of Kansas , 609 Fraser Hall , Lawrence , KS 66045 , US e-mail: [email protected] M. F. Webb, Ph.D. Candidate Department of Anthropology , University of Kansas , 633 Fraser Hall , Lawrence , KS 66045 , US e-mail: [email protected]

J. Gelfer (ed.), Masculinities in a Global Era, International and Cultural Psychology 4, 193 DOI 10.1007/978-1-4614-6931-5_11, © Springer Science+Business Media New York 2014 194 B.E. Metz and M.F. Webb in the single municipio (a unit roughly between the size of a US township and county) of Jocotán. Adjacent to Guatemala City, occupying beautiful highland scen- ery and with colorful dress, the Kaqchikels are arguably the most studied and visible of all the Mayan groups, whereas the Ch’orti’s of eastern Guatemala, never having had colorful dress and at the nation’s geographical margins, have rarely been on the nation’s radar except when disasters strike. Webb has conducted research since 2010 in the Kaqchikel municipio of Tecpán in the department of Chimaltenango, the core of the Kaqchikel area. Tecpán was once the pre-Hispanic capital of the Kaqchikel kingdom (Iximché) and continues to be recognized as a central Kaqchikel city today because of its indigenous pro- fessionalism, commerce, and ethnic leadership (Fischer and Benson 2006 ). Despite the economic and sociopolitical vibrancy of the city center, the aldeas (hamlets) surrounding Tecpán remain isolated by distance, poor roads, and Kaqchikel monolinguism. Generally, Kaqchikel aldeas are poor farming communities where malnutrition is common. Many families eat only beans and tortillas, and some can only afford salt and tortillas. Historically marginal from the distant and diffi cult-to-access town center, recently some have emerged from “isolation” with the help of nongovernmental organizations and a recent surge in mostly male migration to the United States, namely, the New Jersey area. 1 On average Kaqchikel migrants stay abroad for 5 years, during which they are exposed to new cultural ideas that can both exaggerate and challenge traditional Kaqchikel masculinities in unexpected ways. Metz has researched Jocotán and other municipios in the former Ch’orti’- speaking area of Guatemala, Honduras, and El Salvador since the early 1990s. Jocotán is one of the poorest municipios in Guatemala. A burgeoning population relying on subsistence farming and occupying deforested, eroded, steep mountain lands lying in a rain shadow, Jocotán has a stark economic divide between indigenous campesinos (subsistence farmers) in the mountains and Ladinos living in town connected to the national economy and international migratory circuits. The municipio has been hemorrhaging campesinos to other parts of Guatemala and Honduras for generations, and only recently has any development worth mentioning entered the aldeas. Comparing masculinities in Guatemala provides insights into how social and geographic background and tighter market integration infl uence gender. It also highlights how “Maya-ness” actually encompasses diverse groups and circumstances but also demonstrates commonalities in regard to gender processes. The aldeas of Tecpán and Jocotán share a Mesoamerican heritage of subsistence corn and beans agriculture, a colonial history in a country the size of Ohio, and recent waves of Christian missionization as well as proselytization by the Mayan revi- talization movement. They are different in regard to ethnic expression, the degree of integration in national society, the occupation of town centers by Mayan brethren versus Ladinos, and weight placed on commerce. Taken together, an examination of Tecpán and Jocotán allows us fi rmer footing to make general- izations about machismo in Guatemala generally and Mesoamerica on the whole (Gutmann and Vigoya 2005 ). While one might surmise that the authors’ gender Historical Sediments of Competing Gender Models in Indigenous Guatemala 195 and sexuality have impacted insights into the masculinities, our communication has opened pathways to understanding that would have otherwise been unrecognized by the other.

Gender Studies and Mayas

Studies of gender in Guatemala, and among Mayas generally, have a long, contentious history. A key divide has been whether Mayan community cultures, including their segregated but complementary gender divisions, are patriarchal or functional and from where such tendencies emanate. A central premise in function- alist approaches has been that gender complementarity is ultimately Mesoamerican and fosters interdependence and therefore respect for women’s roles in childbear- ing, child-raising, cleaning, weaving, cooking, and food processing and men’s roles in farming, construction, and public works. Most early studies presumed such functional complementarity, but some female researchers began to question this early on (e.g., Oakes 1951 ). With the rise of feminist anthropology in the 1960s, more critical accounts of Mayan gender dynamics surfaced. In Chiapas, Nash (1967 ) wrote of severe limitations to Mayan women’s public advancement, including violence and accusations of witchcraft (Elmendorf 1976 ; Rosenbaum 1993 ), and for the Tz’utujil women of Lake Atitlán, Paul (1974 ) described the situation as severely restrictive. The politics of critiquing Mayan communal cultures, including gender, intensifi ed with the mass killings of Mayas during the Guatemalan Civil War, because elites and the army justifi ed brutality against Mayas due to their own supposed barbarism. After the war, some feminist academics, including contemporary Mayanist women writers (e.g., Chirix García 2000 ), renewed their critical approach, particularly regarding restrictions on women and physical abuse by Mayan men. If gender repression has been acknowledged, explanations have varied in emphasis. Unlike Paul (1974 ) and Oakes (1951 ), who wrote about patriarchy primarily in local context, recent authors have tended to approach patriarchy via broader historical, economic, and social circumstances. Myriad authors have pointed to the misogynistic attitudes inculcated by the Guatemalan army, to which hundreds of thousands of Mayan men were forcibly recruited (Green 1999 ; Metz 2006 ). Bossen’s (1984 ) four-community study blamed women’s disadvantages on market integration, with women becoming increasingly dehumanized and vulnerable as traditional gender complementarity is eroded and people move into the male-dominated Western market economy. Ehlers ( 2000) traced the history of Mam women’s role as weavers to the colonial period and found that men usurped weaving bit by bit as it transformed into a cottage industry (see also Thomas 2009). Eber (1995 ) explained men’s domestic abuse of women in Chiapas as a consequence of their frustration of being unable to fulfi ll masculine roles in a discriminatory society. Wage labor, marketing, and petty commodity production—often spurred by the deterioration of the subsistence economy—provide unequal economic opportunities to men, who become the principal wage earners and leave women dependent and 196 B.E. Metz and M.F. Webb vulnerable. On the other hand, men are also exposed to ethnic and class abuse, giving them a sour outlook on life that they sometimes bring home to their families. Drinking and spousal abuse spur women to seek solace and support via new religions like Pentecostalism. When women seek education and wages themselves, some men view this as a threat to their sexual control and a burden on the household, because women alone can no longer cover traditionally feminine tasks (Bossen 1984 ; Ehlers 2000 ; Eber 1995 ; Annis 1987 ; Goldín and Metz 1991 ). Also running through studies of Mayan gender has been the interconnection of sexuality and ethnicity. Nelson (1999) argued that ethnic, gender, and sexual structures in Guatemala are inextricable. The key axis informing all relations is of dominant, predatory Ladino men and submissive Mayan women. When someone fails to conform, they are attacked. For example, when Nobel Peace Prize laureate Rigoberta Menchú was publicly assertive rather than submissive, she became the subject of an entire genre of aggressive sexual joking about her “masculinity.” Relatedly, other authors have written how Mayas use their women’s chastity, humility, family devotion, and proper confi nement to the home as a sign of Mayan ethnic righteousness on the whole. Mayas may not have all the power and wealth of Ladinos and Gringos, but at least they are virtuous and their women are not “whores.” The reinforcement of this model can be found in several ethnographies in which Mayan dance dramas and folklore portray Blacks, Ladinos, Gringos, other indigenous groups, and monkeys as oversexed, shameless, and lacking self-control (Bricker 1973 , pp. 112–144; Burgos-Debray and Menchú 1984 , pp. 59–78; Cook 1981, pp. 299–306, 316–322; Gossen 1974, pp. 178–182; Pitt-Rivers 1967 , p. 72; Vogt 1976 , pp. 146–155; Nelson 1999, pp. 224–225; Tarn and Prechtel 1990 ). To effect such an idealization, Mayan men and women repress Mayan women who seek public advancement, by subjecting them to rumors of promiscuity, beatings, and rape (Bossen 1984 ; Eber 1995 ; Nash 1967 ; Oakes 1951 ; Paul 1974 ; Rosenbaum 1993 ). While paragons of ethnic righteousness, women are also considered gullible to sexual advances and thus must be watched. Ultimately, it is not the women who are the moral beacons, but the Mayan community that keeps them in check (Eber 1995, pp. 198–206; Rosenbaum 1993 , pp. 51–60). Kray (2007 ) refers to this dynamic in the Yucatán as “women as border,” that is, the ethnic border marked by women’s chastity. There, tighter integration with the booming tourist industry has resulted in a confl ict between younger generations of women bombarded by consumerism and newfound wages and parents seeking to keep them confi ned and covered.

Social Sediments and Masculinity

Our approach to Mayan masculinity is to recognize the historical substrates informing contemporary morality and morays and how these are challenged by the dra- matically different circumstances of international migration, increased contact with modern media and consumerism, and more frequent and deeper personal Historical Sediments of Competing Gender Models in Indigenous Guatemala 197 contacts with foreigners like us. Other theorists have led the way in abandoning unidimensional and stereotypical approaches to masculinity for recognition of multidimensional, changing, and contradictory masculinities even in the same individuals. Connell’s (1995 ) notion of hegemonic versus subordinate masculinities is a case in point, as are the works of Loizos ( 1996 ), Kandiyoti ( 1996 ), and Simic (1983 ), who found that even in societies with rigid gender segregation, like Mediterranean ones, power is held only ephemerally by men, while other males suffer “structural disadvantages” (Ortner 1984 ). Hegemonic and subordinate masculinities are constantly changing in relation to each other, and it is not easy to ascertain what counts as a male advantage or limitation. For example, is the fact that Greek men hang out in bars where women are not welcome a sign of male privilege or a refl ection that women rule the home and hearth? Or is it more complicated still, as what men often discuss in the bars are changing expectations of masculinity, including supporting the interests and rights of their wives, mothers, and daughters (Loizos 1996 )? Heightened global communication is accentuating a condition in which masculine cultures (like all cultures) are transient, contradictory, contentious, and imperfectly shared. Does Westernization mean a one-way movement away from traditional patriarchal masculinities to liberated non-patriarchal ones or something more multiplex, including potentially even more patriarchal control (Kandiyoti 1996 )? Gutmann (1996 ) led the way in exploring these processes as they relate to machismo in Mexico. Machismo in Hispanic societies—to which we consider the Kaqchikel and Ch’orti’ campesinos to be exposed but not full members—has been equated with male bravado and licentiousness, but it has never been lived as a unifi ed identity or a coherent set of practices and attitudes. The model was largely an elite imagination of working class Mexican men, but the latter have rarely fully embodied it. The macho persona has become even less viable with global media penetration into Mexico and women’s entry into public life, although it is a model from which some men occasionally draw. Gutmann (1996 ) uses Gramsci’s concept of contradictory consciousness to comprehend how Mexican men navigate the panoply of masculine possibilities and limitations, referring to how old paradigms can clash with new conditions, which in turn can lead to new paradigms. Other scholars have written in the same vein in regard to friction between traditional patriarchal models and new models promoted in formal education, commerce, consumerism, and classism. Often, old patriar- chies are strategically and inaccurately remembered to justify policies and behaviors in new capitalist circumstances (Beydoun 2000 ; Daoud 2000 ; Krause 2005 ; Shire 1996; Suggs 1996 ). Similar to Gramsci’s contradictory consciousness, we fi nd Thompson’s (2003 ) account of the “social sediments” in Malaysia to be particularly useful. Historical substrates of masculinity and femininity from ancient peasant traditions, colonialism, and nationalist modernization campaigns overlap in the oft-unconscious values and practices of the same individuals. In other words, there is a constant process of historical memory, historical forgetting, and accretion of new models that get negotiated between and among men and women on a daily basis (see also 198 B.E. Metz and M.F. Webb

Kandirikirira 2002 ; Kanitkar 1996 ; Luhrman 1994 ; Peteet 2000 ; Roded 2006 ; Sinha 1987 ). In sum, masculine ideals in previous eras are often not replaced as much as perpetually renegotiated, displaced, transformed, and amalgamated. Ch’orti’ and Kaqchikel masculinities are becoming increasingly multiple and contradictory, due to the accretion of cultural “memories” from past eras and dra- matically new circumstances. By memories we mean not only conscious reﬂ ections on the past but also subconscious reproduction of routines, spaces, objects, and emotions. Nostalgia about past generations counts as memory as much as eating tortillas with every meal, desiring many children, building houses with front patios, weaving, making crafts, and growing corn. Masculinities are in constant formation and negotiation, rather than one model completely replacing another, and differen- tial access to cultural alternatives means that each individual is uniquely situated in regard to perceived possibilities, opportunities, and moralities.

Historical Sediments of Mayan Masculinity

The historical memories and social sediments of Mayan masculinity have ancient, colonial, and contemporary foundations. Some aspects of contemporary Kaqchikel and Ch’orti’ masculinity clearly fall within Mesoamerican tradition. In some cases, these are the most unquestioned and embodied traditions. For example, aspects of corn, beans, and squash subsistence farming have been reproduced with relatively little alteration since ancient times, such that cosmology, symbolism, and routines regarding plants and the weather remain central. Farming continues to be a marker of Mayan masculinity and a key means by which rural Kaqchikel and Ch’orti’ evaluate men, despite the fact that many now depend more on wage labor for survival. Spanish colonization, which compressed Mayan social hierarchies, reinforced subsistence farming culture for many tribute- and labor-paying “Indians.” It also fortiﬁ ed another aspect of Mesoamerican campesino masculinity—procreation— because it was marked by massive demographic catastrophes due to epidemic diseases and hunger. 2 While the initial catastrophe of the invasion may have dampened desires to bring children into this world, in the long run the need for more food, labor, and tribute-payers strengthened masculine values on procreation. Epidemics like cholera and endemic diseases like malaria and intestinal infections continued to have a devastating impact on Mayan campesinos into the twentieth century, while educational and professional opportunities continued to be out of reach for most, which further cemented emphasis on having many children for the manual subsistence economy as well as the cheap wage labor economy imposed during Guatemala’s Liberal period (1871–1944). Under the discourse of progress, development, and modernization, Liberal governments expropriated indigenous lands and coerced their labor for public works and export crops, especially coffee (McCreery 1994 ; Smith 1990 ). Historical Sediments of Competing Gender Models in Indigenous Guatemala 199

Older models of gender are also clearly in play in regard to modesty, dress, and reticence in public, although it is difﬁ cult to ascertain how historically deep such models lie. Ch’orti’ men, for example, never wear shorts in public unless they are playing soccer, despite living in a hot tropical environment. Kaqchikel campesina women are rarely seen without their huipil blouses and wraparound skirts, which are polar opposites of the ﬁ gure-hugging, scantily clad clothing of Ladina and Gringa young women. 3 Both groups continue segregation, to the extent that Ch’orti’ men and women separate themselves even at religious services and community meetings. These historical sediments of interdependence can be seen in contemporary ideals for husbands and wives. Both men and women value hard work in their spouses, and the nature of such work is highly gendered.

Kaqchikels of Rural Tecpán

As communities become increasingly integrated into increasingly globalized markets, they are exposed to new alternatives to traditional cultural dynamics and inter- familial relationships. Men in particular fi nd diverse and often distant sources of income, which can translate into more ways to express their masculinity. This does not mean that the historical sediments of subsistence farming have disappeared from masculine identity. For example, during a bus ride, Webb overheard young Kaqchikel men critiquing another’s lack of knowledge about planting and harvest- ing corn, describing him as “malísimo ” (horrible). Likewise, femininity is defi ned in relation to masculinity. Even in presumed modern arenas like the tourist city of Antigua, Webb noted young Ladina women criticizing another for not knowing how to make tortillas. The infl ux of alternative culture from television and development workers has been critical, but nothing matches the impact of transnational migration.

Transnational Migration

In the past 15–20 years, Kaqchikels from the aldeas surrounding Tecpán have engaged in transnational economic migration. Predominately they go mojados (undocumented) to the United States, but some also have gained visas to work in Canada. 4 Transnational migration has challenged traditional Kaqchikel masculinity. However, Kaqchikel communities are reframing new gender behaviors associated with transnational migration as “traditional” and thus reinforcing traditional gender dynamics. Webb experienced a general reluctance on the part of return migrants to discuss the diffi culties associated with life abroad. Indeed, younger men nearly always touted their ability to move back and forth between the United States and Guatemala 200 B.E. Metz and M.F. Webb without problems, or with only minor problems, thus affi rming their desirability as “worldly” men. However, well-established, married men were more open to discussing problems they faced in the United States. Also, the wives of current migrants discussed their husbands’ hardships, including long hours working in restaurants or construction sites and their need to take on the “feminine” tasks of cooking and cleaning. Transnational migrants must adjust to changes in culture, identity, and social standing outside of Guatemala. Perhaps the most striking adjustment comes from a shift from an agricultural work to industrial work (Fink 2003 ). In such situations Mayan migrants are no longer their own bosses but must adhere to the schedules and rhythms set by others. They also tend to live and work with others not from their natal community. While there are enclave communities of migrants from particular municipios and aldeas, often transnational migrants must work with other Latinos (Burns 2000 ; Fink 2003). Several return migrants Webb interviewed talked about the verbal abuse that they suffered on the job, often at the hands of other Latinos, such as racial slurs related to their indigenous identity. One wife told Webb that her husband’s Mexican boss was always cursing and insulting him. Some chose to abandon their indigenous identity in the United States, making every effort to conform to Mexican versions of masculine identity. Several male and female community members lamented that migrants return more “machistas” because of their association with Mexican ideas of masculinity. While taking on the “feminine” household duties challenges traditional Kaqchikel masculinity in the United States, women back home shoulder more agricultural and public duties (Fink 2003 ). Wives of migrants repeatedly cited taking on their husbands’ household duties as among the greatest diffi culties associated with migration. Several women worried that, in the absence of their migrant husbands, their sons would not learn how to be a man. All the Kaqchikel women Webb interviewed were uncomfortable acting as both mother and father. Transnational migration has also required that women take on leadership roles in community organizations. One middle-aged return migrant boasted women’s participation in community leadership roles as a benefi t of male migration. Though most often seen in a positive light, these new gender roles that Kaqchikel women take on challenge traditional understandings of Kaqchikel masculinity, which is—in part—defi ned in opposition to Kaqchikel femininity. Transnational migration also challenges traditional Kaqchikel masculinity from migrants’ potential loss of economic control over their households. While migrants boost their masculine self-esteem by successfully sending remittances home to support their families, other family members manage the money, most importantly in the construction of new homes (Chirix García 2008 ). In many households it is the wife who manages remittance dollars while husbands are away. However, Webb found that often wives’ “managing” of remittances really meant saving the money until their husbands returned. Therefore, women’s new liberties and responsibilities should not be overstated as powerful community forces reinforce the status quo and recast new gender behaviors within traditional frameworks. Historical Sediments of Competing Gender Models in Indigenous Guatemala 201

Mitigating Challenges to Traditional Masculinities

Migrating men use two strategies to protect their traditional masculinity. The fi rst involves choosing the appropriate spouse. Return migrants continue to look for women who refl ect traditional cultural values, including wearing traje. Many Kaqchikel migrants see marrying in their home communities as the best choice. Victor chose to return to Guatemala and marry a woman from a neighboring aldea— not someone from the United States, a Latina in the United States, or even a non- Kaqchikel in Guatemala. Victor preferred marrying a Kaqchikel woman even though he misses the United States and looks forward to more time in New Jersey. Another example comes from Daniel, a return migrant, whose son is still in the United States. Daniel commented that his son will come home when he is ready to marry and become “un hombre completo” (complete man). Returning to Guatemala allows young male migrants to choose the “right” people to marry. Neither Victor nor Daniel’s son sees marrying outside the Kaqchikel community as desirable despite their increased eligibility as successful migrants. These examples demonstrate that selection of a spouse is an important means of maintaining Mayan masculinity. The second means that Mayan migrant households use to reaffi rm traditional Mayan masculinities is community surveillance. The majority of Kaqchikel transnational migrants interviewed by Webb are married because married men have greater responsibilities and need for money. For married men, the choice to leave their families is daunting not only because of the debt incurred by paying smugglers to get them across borders but also because of the time spent away from wives and children, which can cause loneliness and jealousy. In Kaqchikel communities these challenges are mitigated against through transnational forms of surveillance. Women, considered gullible to sexual advances, are “protected” in several ways. In one typical example, a Kaqchikel woman described how her husband demanded that she should not work outside the house once he left for the United States. Her traveling beyond the confi nes of the village would allow her to escape “the gaze” of his family and village. Transnational gossip is perhaps the most prominent form of surveillance that accompanies transnational migration. Dreby (2009 , 2010 ), Foxen (2007 ), Menjívar (2011 ), and Rodman (2006 ) all speak to the importance of gossip directed towards transnational migrant households. Migrants often depend on their mothers to monitor their wives who remain in sending communities. Gossip can have powerful consequences—dissolution of marriages or the withholding of remittances—for the wives of migrants (Rodman 2006 ). Rodman (2006 ) reports that wives of Pokomam migrants are routinely under the surveillance of their in-laws, such as monitoring when they leave their houses and with whom they interact. It also extends to how migradollars are spent, especially when women are in charge of managing remittances. Even when migrants send remittances directly to their wives, it is generally the migrant husband who controls how migradollars are spent since wives primarily save remittances. Such 202 B.E. Metz and M.F. Webb practices allow male dominance of the household to be maintained vis-à-vis their relatives. Successful migrants return home with migradollars to fi nish house construction, buy land, and invest in the short-term and long-term future. Historically, the Mayas have been alienated from sources of power such as land and business ownership. 5 In the short term, many men use remittances to start their own businesses upon their return. Typically, these include transportation and construction (challenging the stereotype of the Mayan farmer), as well as agricultural ventures like cattle and nontraditional agricultural exports (Fischer and Benson 2006 ; Taylor et al. 2006 ). Such use of migradollars has enabled many to boost their masculine pride in relation to dominant Ladinos. In the long term, migradollars allow families to pursue their children’s education previously unavailable to the parents. The irony is that while education can boost one’s chances of survival and diminish social distance with condescending Ladinos and other Mayas, Mayas often complain that the values inculcated in schools, such as sex education, are at odds with traditional Mayan gender and sexuality. Furthermore, migradollars enable more Kaqchikel girls to pursue education and job opportunities beyond the domestic sphere. The gendered impact of such shifts remains to be seen. Webb herself is one measure of whether contact with outside gender alternatives is having an impact on Kaqchikel communities. She generally was not viewed with great suspicion, partly due to the presence of NGO and Peace Corps workers in the Kaqchikel area and to the fact that locals usually accompanied her. She was highly noticed as an American woman (traveling without her husband) who spoke Kaqchikel and in fact was held up as an example of the importance of learning Kaqchikel and, on the days she did so, wearing traje. 6 She was seen as a source of information about the United States, especially the rules of migrating and visiting those who lived in the United States as well as a sponsor for various endeavors including school supplies, food, and trips to visit husbands and sons in the United States. However, Kaqchikel women’s reaction to Webb also demonstrates their understanding of Mayan masculinities and femininities. They consistently were taken aback that her husband allowed her to travel alone, remarking that such a thing would never occur with a Kaqchikel/Guatemalan man. Rather than intrigued or excited by Webb’s liberty, they seemed more alarmed. Women’s concern for her lack of children despite 8 years of marriage also reveal Mayan campesino expectations that men and women both are not complete without being parents many times over. Ultimately, transnational migration has been slow to change gender relations because communities reframe such changes via long-standing social dynamics of rural Guatemala. In many ways transnational migration parallels preestablished seasonal migration to work in national sugar, rubber, or coffee industries. This historical palimpsest of migration as a means of economic survival is part of Kaqchikel defi nitions of masculinity. Therefore, transnational migration merely reinforces the traditional male role of economically providing for one’s family expected under the trope of machismo. Furthermore, local and transnational forms of patriarchal surveillance help to reinforce traditional female roles. Ensuring traditional femininity Historical Sediments of Competing Gender Models in Indigenous Guatemala 203 serves not only as a foil for Kaqchikel masculinity but also as a means of transmit- ting Kaqchikel cultural identity to children. 7 This is not to say that transnational migration has not impacted the sending communities around Tecpán. Indeed, these small communities now view English—not Spanish—as the language of modernity and possibility for future generations. Additionally, numerous community members report that young Kaqchikel men look to migration to the United States as the way to provide for their families and prove their masculinity.

C h ’orti’s of Jocotán

Metz lived for 20 months in three aldeas of Jocotán and neighboring Olopa in the early 1990s and found a society already in transition. In fact, even in the 1930s and 1940s, ethnographers (Girad 1949 ; Wisdom 1940 ) reported that what was presumed to be functional homogeneity to Ch’orti’ culture, including patriarchal traditions, was being disrupted as the Ch’orti’s became more culturally integrated with the outside world. Unlike Tecpán, which has many indigenous Kaqchikels living in the town center and in direct communication with national political and economic circuits of power, in Jocotán Ladinos dominate the town center. This is partly due to the linkage of ethnicity to lifestyle and language, such that if a family abandons subsistence agriculture and moves to town, they have chosen the path of ladinoization. Moving to town is moving away from being Ch’orti’. Those with at least some Spanish ancestry still dominate the town center. Language is another important marker of ethnicity, and roughly half of Jocotán’s campesinos still speak Ch’orti’. They are indisputably Ch’orti’ as far as everyone else is concerned, but non- Ch’orti’-speaking campesinos tend to be considered “indigenous” but not Ch’orti’. Regardless, virtually all follow the Mesoamerican traditions of corn and beans subsistence agriculture, including making handmade crafts like reed mats and baskets, pottery, and maguey ﬁ ber hammocks, bags, and rope and having some beliefs in an animate environment. Due to a combination of forest loss from Ladino cattle and coffee operations and exponential population growth from the introduction of antibiotics and eradication of malaria, Ch’orti’ mountain lands have become severely overused and eroded, and rainfall has become more erratic. The deterioration of subsistence agriculture in turn has caused Ch’orti’s to begin to question its sanctity and their special place in God’s eyes, and rather than accuse outsiders, they blame each other, regarding envy, sorcery, and failure to follow traditions. Metz initially found that Ch’orti’s were so isolated and marginalized—by both choice and Ladino exclusionary practices—that they thought he and other Gringos were cannibals, especially of children. Other folklore involved sexuality and gender. Gringo and Black men both were suspected of having ridiculously long penises, and Gringa women were feared to have teeth in their vaginas. The beliefs in cannibalism and monstrous genitalia, in fact, are related in Mesoamerica lore, as the hairy (or vegetation covered), lanky k ’echuj or tisimite (Nahua tzitzimitl ) monster of the wilds is sometimes depicted as both cannibalistic and having a long penis (Klein 2000 ; 204 B.E. Metz and M.F. Webb

Wolgemuth and Wolgemuth, Personal Communication, 2003). The association of vaginas with mouths may also have ancient Mesoamerican roots, as Ch’orti’s currently use toads as a metaphor for vaginas, and toads were linked with fertility in ancient times (Hull 2004 , p. 300). In one community Metz’s host family joked that the congregating toads outside his door at night were his lovers. Besides having threatening genitalia, the sense of racial caste was so strong in some communities that it was thought illegal for Gringos and Ch’orti’s to marry. For those who knew about it, the Gringa and Ch’orti’ man who did marry in the1970s and moved to the United States were the source of incessant titillation. Marriages with Ladinos were very rare, as were marriages even with Ch’orti’s of other hamlets. Eighty-fi ve percent of all marriages were endogamous by aldea. Like other Mayan groups, Ch’orti’ gender has been and continues to be dualistic, highly segregated, and interdependent (cf. Girard 1949, pp. 253–254, 262, 292– 293). Women’s duties of childcare, food preparation, sweeping, craft production, and washing clothes confi ne them largely to the home, while men’s activities of farming, cultivating or collecting raw materials for crafts, and wage labor on coffee plantations afford them freer range. The system is segregated to such an extent that men and women never congregate in the same public space. Ch’orti’ symbolism is based on a balance between the forces of female/cold/dark/wet/inside and male/hot/light/dry/outside, and rituals characteristically have male and female components, such as having symbolically male prayer-givers having feminine assistants and sacrifi ces of fowl ideally having male and female birds. One might logically assume that the system is harmonious and functional, but it is also unequal and tax- ing on women. Men eat before their wives, and traditionally wives and daughters walk behind male relatives. Men tend to hold special offi ces such as diviners, heal- ers, and prayer-givers, although midwives tend to be women. Women’s confi nement to the private sphere was such until recently that they never participated in municipal and national elections. When development projects and the Maya Movement began operating in the region, men and women both mocked and forcefully inter- rupted other women who attempted to participate on an equal footing with men (Nash 1967 ). While certainly not the case today, in the 1940s Girard (1949 , p. 299) reported that men had the prerogative to fl og disobedient wives and children. Still, as with men of other Mayan groups (and the world over for that matter), some Ch’orti’s, especially when drunk, beat their wives (Bossen 1984 , p. 125; Elmendorf 1976 , p. 50; Hooks 1993 , p. 58). An ideology of inequality also pervades sexuality. Men maintain two negative but contradictory models of women’s sexuality (Paul 1974 ; Rosenbaum 1993 , pp. 65–87). In one, young women in particular are portrayed as objects of male desire, such as gullible maidens easily fooled into having sex. In another, women away from home are conniving philanderers, or, more bluntly, whores, and their trans- gressions are invariably met with brutal punishment (Fought 1972, pp. 220–254), whereas in reality men are much more likely to have affairs and second families. As pointed out by Nelson (1999), there is an ethnic component underlying such relations, as Ladino men are real threats, exciting themselves with stories of liaisons with Ch’orti’ women. Jealousy over women’s sexuality is such that some men do Historical Sediments of Competing Gender Models in Indigenous Guatemala 205 not as much as permit their wives to go to market. Despite having many children and little food, many men are adamantly against the use of modern birth control methods because these could help women hide illicit relations while they are away for long periods at plantations. Exposure to the more wealthy Ladino society caused by the internal breakdown of the subsistence economy, the repeated incursion of the Hispanic political economy into rural refuges over the centuries, and the opportunities for advancement offered by the market has triggered feelings of vulnerability, marginality, and inadequacy among Ch’orti’ men and women (for Chiapas, see Rosenbaum 1993 , pp. 51–60). They tend to show ritualized respect to powerful Ladinos and regularly betray their ethnic heritage, preferring to identify themselves as campesinos instead of indigenous, especially in the presence of condescending Ladinos or “civilizados ” (civilized people) who treat them as either children or dirty, backward brutes. When Metz fi rst arrived to the Ch’orti’ area, some of his Ch’orti’ acquaintances avoided him in towns because they feared he would embarrass them by naively addressing them in Ch’orti’. The sense of inferiority is instilled at a young age and may emanate intentionally or not from schools and Ladino schoolteachers. Spanish anthropologists Julián López and Nuria Nacla assigned 40 Ch’orti’ 12-year-old students to write essays about their perceptions of Spanish students. Their responses over- whelmingly and tragically portrayed an imagination of Spanish students as better behaved, beautiful, wealthier, and more intelligent than Ch’orti’s. The security blanket of community has also been shredded by the value of individual achievement propagated by schools, the market, and the media. In the early 1990s, only 18 % of school-aged children attended school, but out of both despera- tion and a sense of opportunity, this has increased by well over 50 % today. Less than 50 % had shortwave radios for local programming, but today almost all have radios that pick up FM stations. Besides working for wages on plantations, many Ch’orti’s from highland communities are selling their own coffee. But all of these endeavors subject them to Ladino condescension and unequal relations, which can be redirected towards one’s neighbors and family. Under what remains of the communal ethic, Ch’orti’s are extremely sensitive to inequality within their communities, and misfortunes are frequently explained as someone envying what another has to the point of sorcery. Physical attack is not out of the question, either. When Metz lived in one community over a half-year period, a man killed another because he bought a radio, and another man’s motorcycle, bought by a development project, was vandalized. Inebriation is both catalyst and tool of violence, as many lose control unintentionally or lose their inhibitions intentionally when planning an attack. Whatever the case, women are only targets, never perpetrators. All complain that instances of rape and murder of women are increasing. In some communities where alcoholism is rampant, women decry that they have been unable to walk to town on market day for fear of attack (for Tz’utujils, see Paul 1974 ; for Mams, see Bossen 1984 , p. 127 and Oakes 1951 ; for Tzeltals, see Nash 1985 , p. 281; and for Tzotzils, see Eber 1995 , pp. 196–206; and Rosenbaum 1993, pp. 51–55, 60). A sense of masculine inadequacy and inferiority makes frus- trated men even more dangerous towards women. 206 B.E. Metz and M.F. Webb

The gradual tightening of national and market integration, including the introduction of the Maya Movement from western Guatemala, has begun to alter Ch’orti’s’ senses of gender and sexual possibility. Even in the 2 years that Metz spent in the communities, he saw a defi nitive change in the attitudes of his acquaintances. The prospect of Gringo-Ch’orti’ marriages became conceivable, as some openly speculated on how his European heritage could provide “buena raza ” (good blood) to their lineages, and one group of men perked up when he said that a Gringa fi nding them attractive is not out of the question. Some half-seriously insisted that he bring them one of his female relatives for a spousal exchange. The leaders of the Maya Movement, with its progressive tendencies, urged Ch’orti’ women to speak out about gender, and some surprisingly expressed burning resentment at their confi nement to homes and lack of outside opportunities. The same Mayanists pushed Mayan men to quit their alcoholism, domestic abuse, and disrespect towards women, with the sermonizing that these are Spanish impositions. Some men could not hide their amusement at the idea that women could lead like men, but others make con- certed efforts to take women seriously, partly because development projects, the Maya Movement, and missionaries targeted women so regularly. Twenty years after Metz began his fi eldwork, the social and economic landscape has shifted in remarkable ways, as have gender and sexuality, but a masculine transition is far from complete. Since the early 2000s, a few men migrating to the United States have turned into a steady trickle, but not to the extent of the Kaqchikels. Nonetheless, their remittances have exacerbated inequality and envy. Like the Kaqchikels, they still consider Ch’orti’ women to be their ideal marriage partners, although a few Ch’orti’ professionals have married Ladinas. Women, however, do not migrate because of the dangers of crossing Mexico, such that the few Ch’orti’ men to whom Metz has spoken in the USA have lamented their loneliness and claim that available women are scarce in their social circles. Back home, men have begun to market themselves differently to available women. Migration as well as higher global coffee prices have allowed cell phones to replace wristwatches as signs of masculine capital, but like the wristwatches that never ran, the cell phones are rarely charged because men can rarely afford the minutes. Ladinos are agitated by Ch’orti’s’ uppity-ness, including even owning pickup trucks, and argue that money must be trickling down to them illegitimately via narcotraffi cking, which indeed is a possibility for a few but certainly not the majority. Besides economic opportunities, however limited, foreigners have entered the area to work in health and development projects due to catastrophes like the cholera epidemic of 1992 and famines in 1996 and 2001. This infl ux has not only demysti- fi ed outsiders in Ch’orti’ eyes but diminished their own sense of marginality. Ch’orti’ men still feel threatened by Ladino society, including by hydroelectric dam, mining, timber, and superhighway projects, and they continue to struggle with values and ideas introduced in the school system. As such, the social sediments of the past continue to clash in a contradictory consciousness with the present. One change that would have been unthinkable 20 years ago, however, is the movement of women into public positions. Metz found in one community that six of eleven community health representatives were women. For many families, high-performing Historical Sediments of Competing Gender Models in Indigenous Guatemala 207 school girls are also seen as an investment in the future for many families, although the contradictory consciousness of the girls themselves frequently leads them to early marriage and pregnancy and not necessarily in that order. Drunkenness and violence against women has also subsided, signaling that the most rocky part of the transition may have passed.

Conclusion

Analyses of Mayan gender have been divided as to whether the segregated, interdependent Mayan communal gender systems are functional or divisive and restrictive for women. Whatever may have been the case in previous generations, the current generation is beginning to question male-public/female-private divide as it becomes less dependent on subsistence agriculture and more dependent on the cash economy. While the Guatemalan state has done little to enhance Mayas’ ability to compete in the market, spending relatively little on healthcare and education, men have been able to bypass the racist national economy and earn dollars abroad. The money they are earning is now giving them a chance to compete in the national market, which in turn is slowly changing their tastes and values, including in the realm of gender. Since the start of the colonial period, a fraction of the Mayan populations has always moved out of their communities and into the Ladino world, and this continues to the present more than ever, but rural communities or aldeas have shown remarkable resilience to the individualistic, consumerist values of the cities and towns. This is partly out of lack of opportunities and partly out of a sense of righteousness in their way of life, both of which speak to the colonial and Mesoamerican sediments of contemporary Mayan values and routines. Scholars have also disputed whether tightening integration and dependence on the market means increasing male domination or female liberation, and the answer is largely implied by whether one sees Mayan communal gender as functional or oppressive. If functional, then diminishing reliance on local markets and greater dependence on the cash economy will likely be disadvantageous for the women, such as favoring men in the business and wage labor. We see the contradictory consciousness of Mayan subsistence culture and current conditions of population pressure, greater dependence on money, and brutal civil wars as deleterious to women. Women are trapped in a value system in which they are conﬁ ned to home due to both the sediments of Mesoamerican chores and colonial threat of Ladino predation but faced with a future in which education and jobs mean survival and opportunity. Kaqchikels of rural Tecpán, both men and older women, are doing their best to hold the line and restrict their young women, while Ch’orti’s, in a more des- perate economic situation, have become slightly more open to gender change in the realms of education and public leadership. Change to the gender system will occur when there are changes to broader communal system, which provides support in conditions where there is little social and economic security for indigenous people. Without bank accounts or government 208 B.E. Metz and M.F. Webb safety nets and with inadequate NGO support, campesinos will continue to rely on each other with a communal tradition where no one is forgotten but where no one should abandon their duties to others and try to get ahead. Getting ahead on an individual basis is met with accusations and counteraccusations of betrayal, envy, and sorcery. The destruction of the Ch’orti’ communal subsistence destruction is more advanced than among the Kaqchikel campesinos of Tecpán, but the Kaqchikels are advanced in ﬁ nding money in the individualistic economy, particularly by international migration. We believe that if and when individualism is able to take hold and the communal traditions are eroded, such that individuals can depend on their own savings, including reliable investments in their children’s education, the historical sediments composing the gender system will open up to the point that men will not be threatened by women’s public activities but may welcome them as economic necessity and opportunity, and the men themselves will feel more secure ethnically and even imagine marriages with non-Mayas. This in fact is long under way in urban areas, as would be expected.

Notes

1. There are several aldeas where men look not to the United States but to Canada as their preferred migration destination. Those Kaqchikels who migrate to Canada have been able to take advantage of a program between Canada and Guatemala that provides Guatemalans with temporary work visas. This allows Kaqchikel migrants to work legally in Canada. 2. These declines were especially pronounced among the Ch’orti’ as disease decimated lowland populations more than highland populations (Metz 2006 ). 3. For example, Kaqchikel mothers may allow their daughters to wear pants in the home but require that they change into traje (traditional dress) when leaving the house. 4. It is nearly impossible to get a tourist to enter the United States, much less a work visa that would provide them the ability to legally work in United States. 5. In Guatemala, the image of a poor campesino is often synonymous with Mayan. 6. While Webb was not viewed with suspicion, there were a couple of occasions when, in the market, her friend remarked: “Rije’ yemayon roma yixtikir yixtz’ijon pa qach’ab’äl” (They [the vendors] are worried/concerned that you all [myself and a fellow American ethnographer] can speak Kaqchikel). 7. In Guatemala women are seen as vessels of culture (Nelson 1999).

References

Annis, S. (1987). God and production in a Guatemalan town . Austin: University of Texas Press. Beydoun, A. (2000). Not the man my father was. In M. Ghouussoub & E. Sinclair-Webb (Eds.), Imagined masculinities: Male identity and culture in the modern Middle East (pp. 263–272). London: Saqi Books. Bossen, L. H. (1984). The redivision of labor: Women and economic change in four Guatemalan communities . Albany: State University of New York. Bricker, V. R. (1973). Ritual humor in highland Chiapas . Austin: University of Texas Press. Burgos-Debray, E., & Menchú, R. (1984). I…Rigoberta Menchú . London: Verso. Historical Sediments of Competing Gender Models in Indigenous Guatemala 209

Burns, A. F. (2000). Indiantown, Florida: The Maya diaspora and applied anthropology. In J. Loucky & M. M. Moors (Eds.), The Maya diaspora: Guatemalan roots, new American lives (pp. 152–171). Philadelphia: Temple University Press. Chirix García, E. D. (2000) La vida de las mujeres y de los hombres: Socialización de la sexualidad endre indígenas. Revista Jotaytzij, 32, 7–8. Chirix García, E. D. (2008). Una aproximación sociológica a la sexulaidad kaqchikel hoy . Guatemala: FLASCO. Connell, R. W. (1995). Masculinities . Berkeley: University of California Press. Cook, G. W. (1981). Supernaturalism, cosmos, and cosmogony in Quichean expressive culture . (Ph.D. Dissertation), State University of New York at Albany. Daoud, H. (2000). Those two heavy wings of manhood: On moustaches. In M. Ghouussoub & E. Sinclair-Webb (Eds.), Imagined masculinities: Male identity and culture in the modern Middle East (pp. 273–280). London: Saqi Books. Dreby, J. (2009). Gender and transnational gossip. Qualitative Sociology, 32 (1), 33–52. Dreby, J. (2010). Divided by borders: Mexican migrants and their children. Berkeley: University of California Press. Eber, C. (1995). Women and alcoholism in a highland Maya town. Austin: University of Texas Press. Ehlers, T. B. (2000). Silent looms: Women and production in a Guatemalan town . Austin: University of Texas Press. Elmendorf, M. (1976). Nine Mayan women . New York: Schenkman. Fink, L. (2003). The Maya of morgantown: Work and community in the nuevo new south . Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press. Fischer, E. F., & Benson, P. (2006). Broccoli and desire: Global connections and Mayan struggles in postwar Guatemala . Stanford: Stanford University Press. Fought, J. (1972). Chorti (Maya) texts (I) . Philadelphia: University of Philadelphia Press. Foxen, P. (2007). In search of providence: Transnational Mayan identities . Nashville: Vanderbilt University Press. Girad, R. (1949). Los chorti’s ante el problema maya: Historia de las culturas indígenas de América, desde su origen hasta hoy . México: Antigua Libreri?a Robredo. Goldín, L. R., & Metz, B. E. (1991). An expression of cultural change: Invisible converts to Protestantism among the highland Guatemalan Mayas. Ethnology, 30(4), 325–338. Gossen, G. (1974). Chamulas in the world of the sun. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Green, L. (1999). Fear as a way of life: Mayan widows in rural Guatemala . New York: Columbia University Press. Gutmann, M. C. (1996). The meanings of macho: Being a man in Mexico city . Berkeley: University of California Press. Gutmann, M. C., & Vigoya, M. V. (2005). Masculinities in Latin America. In M. S. Kimmel, J. Hearn, & R. W. Connell (Eds.), Handbook of studies on men and masculinity (pp. 114–128). Thousand Oaks: Sage. Hale, C. R. (2006). Más que un indio (more than an Indian): Racial ambivalence and the paradox of neoliberal multiculturalism in Guatemala . Santa Fe: School of American Research. Hooks, M. (1993). Guatemalan women speak . London: Catholic Institute for International Relations. Hull, K. M. (2004). Verbal art and performance in Ch’orti’ and Maya hieroglyphic writing . (Ph.D. Dissertation), University of Texas at Austin. Kandirikirira, N. (2002). Deconstructing domination: Gender disempowerment and the legacy of colonialism in apartheid in Omaheke Namibia. In F. Cleaver (Ed.), Masculinities matter!: Men, gender, and development (pp. 112–137). New York: Zed Books. Kandiyoti, D. (1996). The paradoxes of masculinity: Some thoughts on segregated societies. In A. Cornwall & N. Lindisfarne (Eds.), Masculinity: Comparative ethnographies (pp. 197– 213). New York: Routledge. Kanitkar, H. (1996). Real true boys: Molding the cadets of imperialism. In A. Cornwall & N. Lindisfarne (Eds.), Dislocating masculinity: Comparative ethnographies . New York: Routledge. 210 B.E. Metz and M.F. Webb

Klein, C. F. (2000). The devil and the skirt: An iconographic inquiry into the pre-Hispanic nature of the tzitzimime . Ancient Mesoamerica, 11 (1), 1–26. Krause, E. L. (2005). Encounters with the “peasant”: Memory work, masculinity, and low fertility in Italy. American Ethnologist, 32 (4), 593–617. Kray, C. (2007). Women as border in the shadow of Cancún. Anthropology Today, 23 (4), 17–21. Laclau, E. (1990). New reﬂ ections on the revolution of our time: Ernesto Laclau. Routledge: Chapman & Hall, Incorporated. Loizos, P. (1996). A broken mirror: Masculinity in Greek ethnography. In A. Cornwall & N. Lindisfarne (Eds.), Dislocating masculinity comparative ethnographies (pp. 66–81). New York: Routledge. Luhrman, T. M. (1994). The good parsi: The post colonial “feminization” of a colonial elite. Man, 29 (2), 333–357. McCreery, D. (1994). Rural Guatemala, 1760–1940 . Stanford: Stanford University Press. Menjívar, C. (2011). Enduring violence: Ladina women’s lives in Guatemala . Berkeley: University of California Press. Metz, B. E. (2006). Ch’orti’-Maya survival in eastern Guatemala: Indigeneity in transition . Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press. Nash, J. (1967). The logic of behavior: Curing in a Maya indian town. Human Organization, 26 (3), 132–141. Nash, J. (1985). A decade of research on women in Latin America. In J. Nash & H. I. Safa (Eds.), Women and change in Latin America (pp. 3–21). South Hadley: Bergin & Garvey. Oakes, M. (1951). Beyond the windy place: Life in the Guatemalan highlands . New York: Farrar, Straus. Ortner, S. (1984). Theory in anthropology since the sixties. Comparative Studies in Society and History, 26 (1), 126–166. Paul, L. (1974). The Mastery of work and the mystery of sex in a Guatemalan village. In M. Z. Rosaldo & L. Lamphere (Eds.), Women, culture, and society (pp. 281–299). Stanford: Stanford University Press. Peteet, J. (2000). Male gender and rituals of resistance in the Palestinian intifada: A cultural politics of violence. In M. Ghouussoub & E. Sinclair-Webb (Eds.), Imagined masculinities: Male identity and culture in the modern Middle East (pp. 103–126). London: Saqi Books. Pitt-Rivers, J. (1967). Words and deeds: The Ladinos of Chiapas. Man, 2 , 71–87. Roded, R. (2006). Alternate Images of the Prophet Muhammad’s Virility. In L. Ouzgane (Ed.), Islamic Masculinities (pp. 57–71). New York: Zed Books. Rodman, D. H. (2006). Gender , migration, and transnational identities: Maya and ladino relations in eastern Guatemala . (Ph.D. Dissertation), University of Florida. Rosenbaum, B. (1993). With our heads bowed: The dynamics of gender in a Maya community . Albany: State University of New York Press. Shire, C. (1996). Men don’t go to the moon: Language, space and masculinities in Zimbabwe’. In A. Cornwall & N. Lindisfarne (Eds.), Dislocating masculinity: Comparative ethnographies (pp. 147–158). New York: Routledge. Simic, A. (1983). Machismo and cryptomatriarchy: Power, affect, and authority in the contemporary Yugoslav family. Ethos, 11 (1–2), 66–86. Sinha, M. (1987). Gender and imperialism: Colonial policy and the ideology of moral imperialism in late nineteenth-century Bengal. In M. S. Kimmel (Ed.), Changing men: New directions in research on men and masculinity (pp. 217–231). Newbury Park: Sage. Smith, C. A. (1990). Origins of the national question in Guatemala: A hypothesis. In C. A. Smith (Ed.), Guatemalan Indians and the state, 1540–1988 (pp. 72–95). Austin: University of Texas Press. Suggs, D. (1996). Mosadi Tshwene: The construction of gender and the consumption of alcohol in Botswana. American Ethnologist, 23 (3), 597–610. Tarn, N., & Prechtel, M. (1990). “Comiéndose la frusta”: metáforas sexuales e inciaciones en Santiago Atitlán. Mesoamérica, 19 , 73–82. Historical Sediments of Competing Gender Models in Indigenous Guatemala 211

Taylor, M. J., Moran-Taylor, M. J., & Rodman Ruiz, D. (2006). Land, ethnic, and gender change: Transnational migration and its effects on Guatemalan lives and landscapes. Geoforum, 37 , 41–61. Thomas, K. (2009). Structural adjustment, spatial imaginaries, and “piracy” in Guatemala’s apparel industry. Anthropology of Work Review, 30 (1), 1–10. Thompson, E. C. (2003). Malay male migrants: Negotiating contested identities in Malaysia. American Ethnologist, 30 (3), 418–438. Vogt, E. Z. (1976). Tortillas for the gods . Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Wisdom, C. (1940). The Chorti Indians of Guatemala . Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Wolf, E. R. (1957). Closed corporate peasant communities in Mesoamerica and central Java. Southwestern Journal of Anthropology, 13(1), 1–18. Part IV Sexuality Hypospadias, the “Bathroom Panopticon,” and Men’s Psychological and Social Urinary Practices

Stephen Craig Kerry

The existence of intersex, hermaphroditism, or what has recently been referred to as “disorder of sex development” (Reis 2009 ) exemplifi es the problematic nature of the current two-sex model which dominates many western institutions. The term intersex is meant to denote confi gurations of the body that are delineated not only from the binary of male/female but to also distance itself from the misconception of both male and female in one body. Intersex refl ects a true ambiguity of the sexed body. The medicalization of intersex during the twentieth century resulted in what I have elsewhere called the “institutionalisation of silence” (Kerry 2011b ). In addition to children with “ambiguous genitals” being surgically normalized, all reference to their genital history is kept secret. Since the early 1990s, intersex individuals have coalesced into a movement to articulate their concerns with the medical domination over their bodies. One common theme of intersex narratives is the psychosocial trauma brought on not by being intersex but the betrayal of trust by the medical profession (and in many cases parents). The surgical normalization of genitals and the institutionalization of silence have resulted in a discursive erasure of intersex in the public consciousness. However, intersex is relatively common. It is generally agreed that 1–2 % of the population (Blackless et al. 2000 ) has some intersex status, and more specifi cally Fausto-Sterling posits the median fi gure of 1.7 % (2000 ). Haynes notes that there are over 70 variations of intersex (2001 , p. 4). Not all incidences of intersex are marked by external ambiguity. Only one in 2000 births will have some form of visible “genital ambiguity” (Blackless et al. 2000, p. 161). At birth, the appearance of “genital ambiguity” results in the assemblage of a team of medical professionals who assess the infant’s “true sex” (Dreger 1998 , p. 29). An overwhelming contradiction exists in this pursuit of body “truth”: 90 % of these infants are assigned “female” (Chase 1998b , p. 210;

S. C. Kerry (*) School of Creative Arts and Humanities , Charles Darwin University , Casuarina Campus, Ellengowan Drive , Darwin , NT 0909 , Australia e-mail: [email protected]

J. Gelfer (ed.), Masculinities in a Global Era, International and Cultural Psychology 4, 215 DOI 10.1007/978-1-4614-6931-5_12, © Springer Science+Business Media New York 2014 216 S.C. Kerry

Holmes 2002, p. 169). This bias is not because 90 % of intersex children are “true females” but because of inadequacies in medical techniques. An often quoted physician says: “you can make a hole but you can’t build a pole” (Holmes 2002 , p. 169; Preves 2003 , p. 56). This framework is felt most strongly among one form of penile ambiguity: hypospadias.

Hypospadias and Intersex

While unaware, at birth we are all exposed to a genderless/sexless existence. This is denoted by the use of the word “it” in the question: “Is it a boy or a girl?” We occupy a literal “no-man’s land” until the literal and discursive gaze of the medical profession diagnoses us “male” or “female.” This is what I elsewhere have called the “birthing panopticon” (Kerry 2009 ). Whether one’s genitals are deemed “ambiguous” or “normal,” there is an almost Freudian obsession regarding the presence/ absence of the phallus. It is not enough to possess a phallus to be announced a “boy.” One must possess an “adequate” phallus. Fausto-Sterling argues the medical profession is concerned with “how the penis functions in social interactions” (2000 , p. 58). While there is considerable attention given to the (hetero)sexual function of the phallus, what is also implied is that a “boy” or “man” who is unable to urinate from the tip of their penis, and in the standing position, is considered “abnormal.” According to Schönbucher, Weber, and Landolt, “hypospadias is the most common malformation of the penis” (2008 , p. 520). Hypospadias is a confi guration of the penis/phallus in which the urethral opening (meatus) is positioned along the shaft and not the “normal” position at the tip. The medicalization of intersex prescribes surgery for phalluses not considered “normal.” This surgery either attempts to “correct” hypospadias or “normalizes” the genitals as female. This is a discursive space in which the “gaze” of the medical profession reinforces and literally writes onto the body a two-sex model. By determining a “true sex,” what is being accomplished is a disproportionate amount of attention given to the phallus and whether it can adequately perform in the public bathroom. I am not the fi rst to note the medical profession’s use of public spaces (such as the bathroom) in its determination of what is and what is not an adequate penis (Kessler 1998 ). Yet it is not given due attention. Herein, I focus on the impact of medical intervention on the psychological and social urinary practices of men with hypospadias in the United Kingdom, the United States of America, and Australia. I map out these geographies of identity, subjectivity, and behavior from my own research of intersex Australians conducted during the early 2000s, the intersex literature, and intersex narratives posted online. There is a dearth in the current literature concerning how hypospadiac men go to the bathroom. While discussion has focused on the impact of hypospadias and phal- loplasty on (hetero)sexual function of the phallus, the psychological and social ramifi cations of urinary “dysfunction” in public spaces remain elusive. The closest we come to in regard to counter-normative and genderqueer presence in public Hypospadias, the “Bathroom Panopticon,” and Men’s Psychological… 217 spaces is arguably Cavanagh’s Queering Bathrooms ( 2010). Cavanagh dissects the lived experiences of North American transgender and genderqueer people through the transdisciplinary lenses of psychology and psychoanalysis (among others). Unfortunately, only three of her 100 interviewees self-identifi ed as intersex (p. 22), and only Emily has her narratives cited in-text. Thus, I must turn elsewhere. This chapter draws on three parallel discourses. Firstly, I refl ect on the ideological and architectural redesign of public bathrooms whose intention is to regulate and prevent queer sexual practices. Secondly, I revisit what Halberstam refers to as the “bathroom problem” (1998 ), that is, the regulation, discrimination, and violence faced by transgender and genderqueer people in public bathrooms. Finally, this chapter refl ects on the global movement toward gender-neutral public bathrooms. I am adopting the common thread in the extant literature which specifi es that public bathrooms are not just spaces in which one enters to void the bowels or bladder. Public bathrooms are socially constructed, malleable spaces: ideologically, as well as architecturally. So much so that they offer ample opportunities to build up some important discursive scaffolding onto which we can graft not only a critique of the medicalization of intersex and the surgical normalization of “inadequate” phalluses but also the psychological scripts and social relationships surrounding urinary practices. Claims of the relatively common frequency of intersex, such as Fausto-Sterling’s, have not gone uncontested. In particular, Sax (2002 ) draws attention to the inclusion of some “conditions” which aren’t generally considered to be intersex. This debate regarding inclusion/exclusion is ongoing. I have reported elsewhere (Kerry 2011a ) that in my own research I made contact with several international support and activist organizations that support people with Turner’s syndrome (TS) or congenital adrenal hyperplasia (CAH). When asked to participate in my research, they declined on the grounds that neither TS nor CAH are “intersex.” I concede that it is also inherently problematic to label men with hypospadias as “intersex.” I do so here, however cautiously, to denote a body that is read as problematic by the medical profession at birth and a body (at least in some cases) that has resulted in “corrective surgery” and/or anxiety in psychological scripts and social relationships, especially during urinary practices. In determining “how common” hypospadias is, Fichtner et al. (1995 ) measured the meatal position of 500 men (aged 38–75) who were admitted to hospital for issues not related to hypospadias. They found that 45 % (n = 225) were hypospadiac and the incidences ranged from “mild” to “extreme.” Of the 16 men whose hypospadias was “extreme,” all self-reported that they “were able to void in the standing position with a straight, single and not downward directed stream” (p. 834). They conclude that “it remains unclear whether the tip of the glans truly is the normal site” (p. 833). This research begs the asking of two questions. Firstly, “What is a normal penis?” and, secondly, “If a sample of men with ‘extreme’ hypospadiac men can urinate while standing, why is the medical profession insisting on surgery for hypospadias?” This latter question is pertinent considering that the physical side effects of surgery (i.e., urethral fi stula, scarred, and immobile penises) result in “hypospadias cripples” (Fausto-Sterling 2000 , p. 62; Karkazis 2008 , p. 145). Preves states that the phrase “hypospadias cripple” is used to describe those who 218 S.C. Kerry experience ongoing medically induced complications (2003 , p. 31). The fact that such a nomenclature exists is an acknowledgement by the medical profession that surgery is not always “successful.” Kessler reviewed several follow-up studies published in medical journals between 1985 and 1992: of those surgeries described as “successful,” no provision was made as to how “success” was measured ( 1998 , p. 69). Kessler cites a group of doctors who claim “surgery never produces a perfectly normal penile appearance” (p. 71), and as Karkazis observes, “surgery creates more problems than it corrects” (2008 , p. 145). In a similar review of the literature, Bracka ( 1999 ) found an “increased level of emotional disturbance after hypospadias surgery” (p. 29), and the subjects of these follow-up studies “were less secure in their maleness” (p. 29). Bracka also cites a study conducted by Mureau et al. who “found that hypospadias patients were more likely to try and hide their genitalia” in public spaces (1995 cited in Bracka 1999 , p. 30). Recently, there has been further acknowledgement of the absence of studies pertaining to surgical follow-up. Chertin et al. ( 2010) note that “patient-driven data on long-term functional outcomes and satisfaction are very limited” (p. 59). What we can gleam from these studies is that there are “problems” with urination. Chertin et al. cite a Canadian study which found that although 93 % of their 28 patients were able to urinate in the standing position, spraying was a common outcome (Hoag et al. 2008 cited in Chertin et al. 2010 , p. 59). Aulange et al. (2010 ) similarly note that 85 % of their 27 patients “presented some degree of urinary symptoms” (p. 471). To complement these rare statistics, I needed to ask: What are the views of hypospadiac men? Leaving aside considerations for sex, sexuality, and fertility threaded throughout narratives, there are many references to urination in domestic and public spaces. As Francis 1 from the website Hypospadias UK 2 notes: “I am able to urinate standing [but I have] a spraying stream, though I usually sit in the mornings, rather than irritate my wife with the clean-up!” On this website, eight men (aged between 22 and 68) from the UK, the USA, and Australia narrate their own stories and refl ect on their hypospadias and, for three of them, how genital surgeries have infl uenced their lives. The two eldest men Gary and Henry, both from Australia, did not have surgery, because, as Gary says: “in the 1950s […] plastic surgery was in its infancy.” The men self-reported degrees of hypospadias that ranged from “very mild” to “severe.” Six self-reported problems with urination. Anderson, a 22-year-old man from the USA, had had four surgeries as a child and started experiencing problems at the age of 12: “the skin near the base of my penis [began] to tear, producing several fi stulae […] near the base of the penis.” And as an adult he states that he still “leaks” but has “worked out ways to urinate standing up without dripping on my clothes.” Edgar, a 48-year-old from the UK, had had surgeries between the ages of three and fi ve and would later develop complications which left “a sort of pocket [or] pouch off the urethra, where urine collected. This caused me frequent pain, and had a tendency to empty later, which was embarrassing.” Bert, a 24-year-old also from the UK, remembers “always having a diffi cult time peeing ‘in a straight line’ [it is] extremely frustrating trying to pee without hitting the rim of the bowl at least some of the time while standing there.” Henry states that “having two [meatal] openings means that the direction of my urine is rather unpredictable—I often miss the toilet at the start, though a urinal can handle it.” Hypospadias, the “Bathroom Panopticon,” and Men’s Psychological… 219

Among my eight participants in a study of intersex Australians in the early 2000s, Carey 3 was “born with midshaft (moderate) hypospadias” and underwent three surgical procedures. The fi rst surgery at age two was to straighten chordee, the second at age four to close the midshaft opening, and the “third procedure was performed but I don’t know any details.” This last statement refl ects what I mention above, the “institutionalization of silence.” This, in Carey’s case, was transferred onto his family; not only was Carey’s hypospadias “never really discussed,” but it was never discussed “because my mother feels guilty I was born this way.” Subsequently, Carey feels “it is something I have to deal with by myself.” It is the lies, the silence which present themselves as trauma in psychological scripts and social relationships, not the fact that these people are intersex. Alexander (1997 ) goes further and argues that the psychological and social trauma that arises in intersex individuals coincides with defi nitions of sexual abuse. These men have had to rethink their urinary practices and physically maneuver themselves to achieve “ways to urinate standing up.” Yet the surgery is prescribed in the fi rst place to enable men with hypospadias to urinate in the standing position. This is problematic because it ignores not only the historical variability of the standing position (Cavanagh 2010; Kessler 1998) but also the fact that “patient-driven data on long-term functional outcomes and satisfaction are very limited.” What is clear from some narratives is that several of the men who did not have surgery were able to urinate in the standing position. It is not surprising then that some men ask why surgery was performed in the fi rst place. Tiger, one of Preves’ participants, quite clearly states: “I wish they would have left me alone” (Cited in Preves 2003 , p. 31). Hypospadiac men, regardless of whether they have had surgery or not, indicate that for them urinating in the standing position, while physically possible, is socially awkward. This appears to be amplifi ed when in public. As noted above, Mureau et al. and Bracka state that hypospadiac men “were more likely to try and hide their genitalia when using public lavatories or having to undress in public.” Public spaces are important architectural and discursive spaces in the medicalization of intersex. Fausto-Sterling notes that the medical profession determines an adequate phallus by arguing “young boys should be able to pee standing up and thus […] ‘feel normal’ during little-boy peeing contests” (2000 , p. 57). “Feeling normal” is refl ected in psychological scripts of hypospadiac men. As Bracka reports, hypospadiac men “were less secure in their maleness.” On the Hypospadias UK website, Gary recounts of an incident when, at 14, he went to an agricultural show with his father: “I remember being embarrassed at having to pee into that with everyone else as I couldn’t get my urine stream to go in the right place, but I don’t know if anyone else actually noticed it or not.” Francis also locates his own experiences in the context of “everyone else” when he refl ects that “the ability to have a nice straight stream when you urinate is something most men probably never even have to think about.” He goes on the lament that “dribbling on your shoes, or worse, on your clothes in a public place is not fun.” This anxiety existed regardless of whether he was being watched, and for David, just being in public spaces is traumatic for some men. David is a 45-year-old from the UK who says that “changing in locker rooms at school was a nightmare […] I look back on with horror.” Public spaces in which 220 S.C. Kerry one exposes one’s genitals are neither neutral nor safe spaces. As Gary refers to in the quote above in public spaces, it doesn’t really matter whether one is actually being watched or not. The psychological and social consequences, the trauma, and anxiety of being exposed to another person’s looking exist regardless of whether looking occurs. This coincides with Foucault’s metaphoric panopticon.

Queer Sexual Practices in Public Bathrooms

According to Danaher et al. (2000 ), Foucault used the design of the panopticon as a metaphor to suggest that the authoritative gaze is “a way of looking that could operate as a general principle of surveillance throughout the social body” (p. 54). Earlier, I referred to the “birthing panopticon” in which we all enter at birth. Here, the public bathroom incorporates this “principle of surveillance” and becomes the “bathroom panopticon.” As Cavanagh notes, “gender is disciplined through the gendered codes of conduct and the hygienic and panoptic designs of the modern lavatory” (2010 , p. 5). The “bathroom panopticon” encompasses the three discursive fi elds introduced earlier: regulation of queer sexual practices, Halberstam’s “bathroom problem,” and the campaign for gender-neutral bathrooms. The fi rst of which refers specifi cally to any number of men-only spaces in which men seek out others with whom to have sex. At the outset it is imperative to note that these men do not necessarily identify as “gay.” That is to say that this behavior isn’t limited to men who identify as “gay.” The phrase “men who have sex with men” originated within the epidemiology discourses of HIV/AIDS to locate those men outside of the “gay community” who identify as heterosexual, whose primary relationships are with women, and who have sex with men. Humphreys’ now infamous study of men who have sex with other men in public bathrooms Tearoom Trade was fi rst published in 1970. Nardi notes it is “one of the only studies ever done on the more hidden forms of human sexuality” (1996 , p. 2). Nardi, like me, is less interested in the 40 years of controversy surrounding Humphreys’ methodology than with insights into queer sexual practices in public spaces (p. 4). Cottages, tearooms, and beats, as they are called in the UK, the USA, and Australia (respectively), are not just locations in which random encounters happen (though this is the case sometimes); rather, as Humphreys discovered, the sexual practices are ritualized. That public bathrooms are well known as spaces for queer sex is illustrated by the self-regulated behaviors of men who enter the bathroom to “simply pee.” No eye contact, no talking, and no touching. This repression, which borders on paranoia, adds further uncertainty to an already contradictory place. However, contradictions in men-only spaces are not limited to public bathrooms but are inherent in many men-only nonsexual, or homosocial, relationships. It is all too easy and, as it turns out, erroneous to read men-only spaces as queer or homoerotic. It is quite the opposite. As Flood argues, it is the “men who have too much social contact with women [who] risk their heterosexuality” ( 2008, p. 345). The homosocial space is not just a prioritization of heterosexuality; it is the prioritization of masculinity and men-only relationships within these spaces. In the public bathroom, a man whose gaze is too sexual or too protracted may be interpreted as a Hypospadias, the “Bathroom Panopticon,” and Men’s Psychological… 221 sign of seeking sex and evoke a violent attack. However, there is more going on than homophobia. Namaste argues that violence against sexual minorities is motivated by “perceived transgression of normative sex/gender relations [and the] policing [of] gender presentation through public and private space” (2006 , p. 584). To further disassociate ourselves with the assumption that this is about sexuality, Cavanagh states that gays and lesbians are also “critical and intolerant of trans people in public space” ( 2010, p. 13). This is not dissimilar to Flood’s observations of men. It is gender, not sexuality, that is regulated and policed, and thus, it is gender which is rendered a more privileged category to maintain than (hetero)sexuality. The criminalization and regulation of queer sexual practices is not new. However, these behaviors are being overwritten by the demolition and redesign of public bathrooms. What is taking place is a literal and fi gurative deconstruction of a cultural milieu of queer sex and masculinity. The new architectural paradigm is further blurring the private/public geographies of the public bathroom. Jeyasingham’s analysis of changes in the design, maintenance, and policing of the UK’s public bathrooms indicates that while mainstream acceptance of sexual minorities is being achieved, it benefi ts the “good gay” (2010 ) and results in “the banishment of other, unacceptable identities and behaviours” (2010 , p. 308). Jeyasingham argues that public bathrooms “are reconstructed as safe spaces through their increased exposure to surveillance” (p. 316). Here, the surveillance is from without, such that the public street eye-line enters the private public bathroom. Despite attempts to deconstruct architectural and other discursive fi elds within and without the public bathrooms, they remain ideologically problematic. The two-sex model of the modern west which manifests itself in the gaze of the medical profession reaches into public bathrooms. This is problematic for a world populated by genderqueer humans, those of us who are not limited to two genders/sexes. Herein lies what Halberstam calls the “bathroom problem” (1998 ).

The “Bathroom Problem”

When genderqueer individuals enter the single-gender schema of public bathrooms, they open themselves to physical, electronic, and legal gaze. Delineations of gender, body, space, and identity often make “people uncomfortable” (Califa 1997 , p. 236). The matrices of disturbance have been called “genderism” (Browne 2004 ), “genderbashing” (Namaste 2006 ), and “cissexist” (Serano 2007 cited in Cavanagh 2010, p. 54). Again, this is not about sexuality. For Namaste, “this discourse separates gender and sexuality, since their collapse prevents appreciation of the speciﬁ city of violence against transsexual and transgendered people” (2006 , p. 591). In Browne’s study, she needed a term (genderism) to give voice to those incidences where women were mistaken for men and not thought to be lesbian. By shifting attention away from sexuality, what we have done is reinstalled the importance of the linear relationship from sexed body to gendered identity and the fact that for many people one doesn’t necessarily follow the other. This is a view articulated by 222 S.C. Kerry

West and Zimmerman and their demarcation of “sex,” “sex category,” and “gender” (1987 ). Instead of relying on normative notions of biological “sex” which is always represented in the social “gender,” “sex category” was inserted to enable individuals to challenge the hitherto prioritization of their genitals as a determining feature of their lived experiences, identities, and social relationships. No longer are the hidden (genitals) automatically represented by display (gender). Stryker notes that violence against transgender people is often excused by the perpetrators as a response to being “unjustly deceived by a mismatch between the other’s gender and genitals” ( 2006, p. 10). When genderqueer people enter the single-gender space of public bathroom, the disruption evokes what Claude, one of Cavanagh’s interviewees, calls “gender anxiety” (2010 , p. 57). The “bathroom problem,” according to Halberstam, isn’t being in the “wrong” gendered space, but being read as not gendered: “not-man and not-woman, the gender-ambiguous bathroom user is also not androgynous or in-between; this person is gender deviant” (1998 , p. 21), and “gender anxiety” is distinct from transphobia as it is located in the viewed, not the viewer. Transphobia is usually couched in a normative framework of gender dualism: that is, transwomen are “really men” and transmen are “really women.” The loudest critic of transgenderism over the past three decades is Raymond (1979 ). Raymond attempted to preemptively dislodge the authenticity of the transperson’s social, legal, and embodied status. This attempt to deny transwomen authentic social status was witnessed at the Michigan Womyn’s Music Festival in the USA where, in 1991, a transwoman was evicted from the festival, an act which led to the formal policy permitting only “womyn-born-womyn” or those with female bodies could attend (Meyerowitz 2002 , p. 261). Both positions not only remove the notions of agency on the part of the transperson but also impose a biological essentialist rhetoric that insists that men are appropriators of women’s bodies. For Raymond, the processes are more insidious and violent as: “All transsexuals rape women’s bodies […] often he [sic] is able to gain entrance and a dominant position in women’s spaces because the women involved do not know he [sic] is a transsexual and he [sic] just does not happen to mention it” (p. 104). There is an ideological link here which straddles the gender-segregationist history of public toilets. According to Kogan (2009 ), public toilets were gender- segregated at the end of the nineteenth century as women entered public life, and there was a perception that they needed to be protected “from the lascivious gaze of men” (p. 685). And it is this biological essentialist view of men (as lascivious) that is mirrored in ongoing negatively framed debates regarding transwomen (especially preoperative transwomen) and their use of “women’s” toilets. Many western nation-states have criminalized discrimination on the basis of gender and transgender status; although many public spaces such as bathrooms remain discursively problematic. Kogan analyzes the legal proceedings regarding the sack- ing of Krystal Etsitty, a transwoman bus driver for the Utah Transit Authority. Although the issue was Etsitty’s use of public bathrooms on her bus route, no complaint was ever raised by the public; this arrangement was problematized by her employer (and later by the court). As Kogan notes, the issue lay not in complaints about her use of public bathrooms “but on her mere intention to use women’s public restrooms” (2009 , p. 691). Kogan specifi es that for Etsitty’s employer, the “idea that Hypospadias, the “Bathroom Panopticon,” and Men’s Psychological… 223 a person with a penis would enter a women’s restroom was an impossibility” (2009 , p. 691). What drew the attention of her employer (and subsequently the court) are two things: fi rstly, that her (preoperative) transgendered status overshadowed her ability to do her job and, secondly, they were “obsessed with the genital confi guration of her body” (pp. 689–690). Arguably, the “idea” of Etsitty as “really a man” was problematic. As a “man” in a “woman’s” public bathroom Etsitty thus possessed a “lascivious gaze” and “raped women’s bodies” by “gaining entrance and a dominant position in women’s spaces.” The rhetoric here overlooks one important feature: architecture. Women’s public bathrooms, more so than those for men, prevent anyone’s genitals from being on display. Kogan notes, “no one would ever know or have reason to fi nd out what genitalia Ms. Etsitty possessed when she entered a women’s restroom” (p. 692). I argue that this case illustrates how the public and the law (as an agent of the public) can colonize the transgender body. The colonialization of a transperson’s genitals is not unlike the history of the African male. Postcolonial theorist Fanon writes: “when a white man sees a Negro […] he is no longer aware of the Negro but only a penis; the Negro is eclipsed. He is turned into a penis. He is a penis” (Cited in Friedman 2001, p. 142). From the employer’s and court’s point of view, Etsitty was reduced to a penis. In 2001, the Australian Family Court handed down a decision, commonly known by its shorthand title Re : Kevin . Transman Kevin 4 challenged a previous decision which declared that his marriage to his wife was null and void because he was born female. Justice Chisholm’s decided that Kevin was a man because he lived as a man and was perceived to be a man by his social peers. Re : Kevin thereby overturned decades-long insistence that one’s genital history is the determining factor in one’s social gender status. For transmen, it defl ects attention away from genital confi guration, a salient point because, unlike male-to-female reassignment surgery, equivalent techniques to produce an “adequate” and fully functional penis are far from available. The quote already noted above “you can make a hole but you can’t build a pole” is equally relevant for transmen. This de-emphasis of the phallus is also refl ected by Devor (1997 ). Devor interviewed 45 transmen and discussed their experiences of transitioning from one gendered body to another. Devor concedes that these men would have preferred to have been born with penises, would like to have a penis, and felt incomplete without them. Yet there is evidence that some transmen “believed that they were men and that they were males, with or without that particular piece of fl esh” (pp. 405–406). This translates into public urinary practices, as Cavanagh notes from her interviewees with transmen, who state that “not being able to use the urinal can upset one’s claim to masculinity” (2010 , p. 123).

Gender-Neutral Public Bathrooms

The bathroom problem then is not just about the body but also engages multiple geographies of public space and the act of looking in public space and their discor- dance with psychological scripts, subjectivity, and identity. Through feminism, women’s bodies have been contested; yet none have been as viscerally or 224 S.C. Kerry discursively disruptive as a body that refuses to live, be seen, or discursively written within normative (literal and fi gurative) boundaries. In the USA, the gender-neutral public bathroom movement has offered up an architectural solution to the bathroom problem. Brown (2005 ) describes a student who was assaulted in a women’s public bathroom as a “foot soldier” in a campaign to “de-gender” public bathrooms devoid of urinals as well as of white stick fi gures with pants or a skirt. Wilchins, executive director of the Gender Public Advocacy Coalition , a not-for-profi t group in Washington, is quoted as saying: “They’re tired of being harassed or hassled when they simply need to use a public facility” (Cited in Brown 2005 ). Although I acknowledge it is problematic to extend the militaristic metaphor, the call-to-arms against gender-segregated public bathrooms predates transgender “foot soldiers.” Ironically, however, attempts to form a gender-neutral public bathroom coalition are stalled because cisgender activists exhibit the same fear of transpeople as do those that produce the bathroom problem in the fi rst place. Gershenson and Penne (2009 ) take up the issue of gender-neutral public bathrooms and suggest that when transgendered people joined people with disabilities and parents with opposite sex children at “the queue for toilet provision, anxieties about gender and sexuality immediately surfaced” (p. 7). Precedent exists in the intersex movement’s attempts to join forces with the movement to stop female genital mutilation (FGM). The adoption of the debates surrounding FGM by the intersex movement has been widely documented (Chase 1998a ; Dreger 1998 ; Kessler 1998 ; Preves 2003 ). Chase, founder of the ISNA, reports how Patricia Schroeder, the author of the 1996 FGM USA bill, “received and ignored many letters from [ISNA] members and […] Fausto-Sterling asking her to recast the bill’s language” (Chase 1998a , p. 204). Kessler presumes that the reluctance of FGM activists to consider a coalition with intersex activists is because it “would be seen as diluting the argument” (p. 81). The diffi culty in aligning gender-neutral public bathroom movements with seemingly mainstream ones such as British Toilet Association could be foreshadowed by Edwards and McKie’s indication that the movement struggles with their own legitimacy and overcoming “the myth of vanity [which] diffuse[s] attempts to get this issue taken seriously” (1996 , p. 215). College campuses in the USA, according to Gershenson and Penne, are the stage for these “anxieties,” and the University of Massachusetts (UMass) is an example. An on-campus group called Restroom Revolution campaigned over 2 years for the provision of gender-neutral bathrooms. While eventually successful, Gershenson and Penne (2009 ) highlight how “the derision and open hostility with which the request for provision and gender variance itself was met revealed deep-seated fears about sexuality as well as gender” (p. 8). The gender-neutral public bathroom movement is not restricted to academia. In 2010, Starbucks introduced gender- neutral bathrooms to its Washington cafes based on a little known local law passed 4 years earlier which states that businesses must “allow individuals the right to use gender-specifi c restrooms” (Hess 2010 ). The interaction of transgender people and gender-segregation of public bathrooms is, I argue, more than just a battle against discrimination and/or violence. It is a real-life example of transgender theory. Hypospadias, the “Bathroom Panopticon,” and Men’s Psychological… 225

Again, I insist on imposing an important caveat to the argument that, while transgender and intersex engage often times discursively different frameworks, the dearth of knowledge pertaining to the urinary practices of hypospadiac men in the intersex literature makes transgender theory a necessary ally for intersex people and hypospadiac men in particular. As the above examples of the “bathroom problem” and gender-neutral public bathroom movements illustrate, the transgender experience offers a possible script with which to navigate bodies within psychosocial urinary practices. While a full taxonomy will not be entered into here, it is important to note that since the 1990s “transgender” has been employed as a loose umbrella term that incorporates many “transgender warriors” (Feinberg 1996 ), that is, people who live on the gender margins of society. These “foot soldiers” coalesced not only into a movement to bring forward the lived experiences of transgender people, but they also manifested a discursive framework which witnessed a rethinking and a living of counter-normative gender-/sex-scapes. Transgender theorists are drawn from a broad pallet of writers, novelists, activists, academics, artists, and lawyers who are “reworking queer theory” (Roen 2006 ), and not unlike queer theorists, they challenge systems and institutions threaded so thoroughly throughout society that the mainstream society is blind to them and hasn’t yet considered possible. Of queer theory, British transactivist and lawyer Whittle argues that it concerns a “‘gender fuck’ which is a full-frontal theoretical and practical attack on the dimorphism of gender- and sex-roles” (2005 , p. 117). It is also this “fucking” that is transferred to transgender theory; it transmits an attitude through theory. Whittle analyzes the work of Bornstein ( 1994) and argues that what is being suggested is not a “third sex, but she is creating a third space, a space outside gender” ( 2002 , p. 75). Stryker writes that transgender theory takes an interest in the “operations of systems and institutions that simultaneously produce various possibilities of viable personhood, and eliminate others” (2006 , p. 3). Transgender theory goes beyond the movement from polar opposites and end points of life journeys and offers solace in temporary and/or permanent stays along a genderqueer continuum. Moreover, it maneuvers bodies, identities, relationships, and a plethora of discourses outside gender. From the perspective of transgender theory, it is possible to utilize the lived experiences of those of us who live on the gender margins to not only champion our own causes but to shed light on the center. Earlier, I contested the militaristic metaphor all too often gathered up in transgender literature. Yet, it is the “foot soldiers,” the “gender outlaws,” and the “transgender warriors” who have materialized in the form of contemporary transgender theorists. The target in transgender theorists’ crosshairs is not just gender’s dualistic rigidity but “gender” itself. Yet intersex people are not calling for society-wide gender neutrality. In the early 2000s, Briffa, the then president of the AIS Support Group Australia, indicated that “only a small portion of people with intersex conditions (probably about 5–10 %) have an issue with their gender” (Briffa 2003 ). Intersex activist Holmes (2002 ) agrees that the intersex movement doesn’t want to raise children as “radical gender experiments” (p. 160). As an outsider, it is my intention to add to the intersex literature. As the above illustrates neither transgender nor intersex people occupy privileged bodies. Nor do they occupy privileged positions in public bathrooms. 226 S.C. Kerry

As part of the Restroom Revolution campaign, the UMass student organization plastering the campus bathrooms with posters bearing the motto: “Do you know that you are sitting in a seat of privilege?” As inferred above by Francis, a 51-year-old on the Hypospadias UK website, cisgender people unknowingly take their “rightful” place in public bathrooms while transgender and intersex people are left wondering, fearful, and often, in the case of hypospadiac men, with a literally leaking legacy of an “inadequate” body. Bodies that have no privilege do not ﬁ t neatly on “seats of privilege,” and try as they might to conform to normative psychological and social urinary practices fail.

Conclusion

Over the past decade the public bathroom has been redesigned. The discursively and architecturally malleable state of the public bathroom must reverberate onto, not only the two-sex model but also the normalizing surgery of “inadequate” penises. The narratives cited herein support the decades-long call to change the medical response to ambiguous genitals on the grounds that, while requiring some maneuverings, men with hypospadias are able to pee standing up. Even so, the social awkwardness associated with “leaking” or “spraying” is a far cry from the psychological and social impact of “unsuccessful” normalizing surgery. Rather than rewriting the body, let us continue the push to redesign the public bathroom to ﬁ t the viscerally diverse needs of the human body. For hypospadaic men, being men and feeling normal (i.e., maleness) is linked to the standing-to-urinate position. If the manner in which we measure masculinity was changed, perhaps this would reduce the medical profession’s emphasis on appearance in the public bathroom to determine any phallus an “inadequate” penis. It is thus possible to rewrite the privileged position of standing-to-urinate such that men, all men, may be able to sit to pee and still be men.

Notes

1. All names are pseudonyms. 2. Quotes reproduced with kind permission from website. 3. All names are pseudonyms. 4. “Kevin” is a pseudonym given by the court.

References

Alexander, T. (1997). The medical management of intersexed children: An analogue for childhood sexual abuse . http://www.isna.org/articles/analog Hypospadias, the “Bathroom Panopticon,” and Men’s Psychological… 227

Aulange, M. B., Harper, L., de Napoli-Cocci, S., Bondonny, J. M., & Dobremez, E. (2010). Long- term outcome of severe hypospadias. Journal of Pediatric Urology, 6 , 469–472. Blackless, M., Charuvastra, A., Derryck, A., Fausto-Sterling, A., Lauzanne, K., & Lee, E. (2000). How sexually dimorphic are we? Review and synthesis. American Journal of Human Biology, 12 , 151–166. Bornstein, K. (1994). Gender outlaw: On men, women, and the rest of us. New York: Vintage Books. Bracka, A. (1999). Sexuality after hypospadias repair. British Journal of Urology, 83 (3), 29–33. Briffa, A. (2003). Discrimination against people affected by intersex conditions submission to NSW anti-discrimination board and NSW law reform commission. Androgen Insensitivity Syndrome Support Group Australia. Brown, P. L. (2005). A quest for a restroom that’s neither men’s room nor women’s room . New York Times. Retrieved Mar 1, 2011, from http://www.nytimes.com/2005/03/04/national/04bathroom. html?_r=1&ex=1267678800&en=dc720bf775ee6e9a&ei=5090&partner=rssuserland Browne, K. (2004). Genderism and the bathroom problem: (Re)materialising sexed sites, (re)creating sexed bodies. Gender, Place and Culture, 11 (3), 331–346. Califa, P. (1997). Sex changes: The politics of transgenderism . San Francisco: Cleis Press. Cavanagh, S. L. (2010). Queering bathrooms: Gender, sexuality, and the hygienic imagination . Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Chase, C. (1998a). Affronting reason. In D. Atkins (Ed.), Looking queer: Body image and identity in lesbian, bisexual, gay and transgender communities . New York: Harrington Park Press. Chase, C. (1998b). Hermaphrodites with attitude: Mapping the emergence of intersex political activism. GLQ: A Journal of Lesbian and Gay Studies, 4 (2), 189–211. Chertin, B., Prat, D., & Shenﬁ eld, O. Z. (2010). Outcome of pediatric hypospadias repair in adulthood. Open Access Journal of Urology, 2 , 57–62. Danaher, G., Schirato, T., & Webb, J. (2000). Understanding Foucault . Crows Nest: Allen and Unwin. Devor, H. (1997). FTM: Female-to-male transsexuals in society . Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Dreger, A. (1998). Hermaphrodites and the medical intervention of sex. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Edwards, J., & McKie, L. (1996). Women’s public toilets: A serious issue for the body politic. The European Journal of Women’s Studies, 3 , 215–230. Fausto-Sterling, A. (2000). Sexing the body: Gender politics and the construction of sexuality . New York: Basic Books. Feinberg, L. (1996). Transgender warriors: Making history from Joan of Arc to Dennis Rodman . Boston: Beacon. Fichtner, J., Filipas, D., Mottrie, A. M., Voges, G. E., & Hohenfellner, R. (1995). Analysis of meatal location in 500 men: Wide variation questions need for meatal, advancement in all pediatric anterior hypospadias cases. Journal of Urology, 154 , 833–834. Flood, M. (2008). Men, sex and mateship: How bonds between men shape their sexual relations with women. Men and Masculinities, 10 (3), 339–359. Friedman, D. (2001). A mind of its own: A cultural history of the penis . New York: The Free Press. Gershenson, O., & Penne, B. (2009). Ladies and gents: Public toilets and gender . Philadelphia: Temple University Press. Halberstam, J. (1998). Female masculinity . Durham: Duke University Press. Haynes, F. (2001). Introduction. In F. Haynes & T. McKenna (Eds.), Unseen genders: Beyond the binaries . New York: Peter Lang. Hess, A. (2010). Starbucks restrooms in D.C. go gender-neutral for trans customers. TBD . Retrieved from http://www.tbd.com/blogs/amanda-hess/2010/10/starbucks-restrooms-in-d-c- go-gender-neutral-2536.html Holmes, M. (2002). Rethinking the meaning and management of intersexuality. Sexualities, 5 (2), 159–180. Jeyasingham, D. (2010). Building heteronormativity: The social and material reconstruction of men’s public toilets as spaces of heterosexuality. Social and Cultural Geography, 11(4), 307–325. 228 S.C. Kerry

Karkazis, K. (2008). Fixing sex: Intersex, medical authority, and lived experience. Durham: Duke University Press. Kerry, S. (2009). Are you a boy or a girl? Foucault and the intersex movement . Paper presented at the Foucault: 25 years On, Adelaide. Kerry, S. (2011a). “Intersex imperialism” and the case of Caster Semenya: The unacceptable women’s body. Scan . Journal of Media Arts Culture , 8 (1). Kerry, S. (2011b). Representation of intersex in news media: The case of Kathleen Worrall. Journal of Gender Studies, 20 (3), 263–277. Kessler, S. (1998). Lessons from the intersexed . New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press. Kogan, T. S. (2009). Transsexuals in public restrooms: Law, cultural geography and Etsitty v. Utah transit Authority Temple Political and Civil Rights Law Review, 18 (2), 673–697. Meyerowitz, J. (2002). How sex changed: A history of transsexuality in the United States . Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Namaste, V. K. (2006). Genderbashing: Sexuality, gender and the regulation of public space. In S. Stryker & S. Whittle (Eds.), The transgender studies reader . New York: Routledge. Nardi, P. M. (1996). The breastplate of righteousness. Journal of Homosexuality, 30 (2), 1–10. Preves, S. (2003). Intersex and Identity: The contested self . Piscataway: Rutgers University Press. Raymond, J. (1979). The transsexual empire: The making of the she-male (2nd ed.). New York: Teachers College Press. Reis, E. (2009). Bodies in doubt: An American history of intersex . Baltimore: The John Hopkins University Press. Roen, K. (2006). Transgender theory and embodiment: The risk of racial marginalization. In S. Stryker & S. Whittle (Eds.), The transgender studies reader . New York: Routledge. Sax, L. (2002). How common is intersex? A response to Anne Fausto-Sterling. Journal of Sex Research, 39 (3), 174–178. Schönbucher, V. B., Weber, D. M., & Landolt, M. A. (2008). Psychosocial adjustment, health- related quality of life, and psychosexual development of boys with hypospadias: A systematic review. Journal of Pediatric Psychology, 33 (5), 520–535. Stryker, S. (2006). (De)subjugated knowledges: An introduction to transgender studies. In S. Stryker & S. Whittle (Eds.), The transgender studies reader . New York: Routledge. West, C., & Zimmerman, D. H. (1987). Doing gender. Gender and Society, 1 (2), 125–151. Whittle, S. (2002). Respect and equality: Transsexual and transgender rights. London: Cavendish Publishing. Whittle, S. (2005). Gender fucking of fucking gender? In I. Morland & A. Willox (Eds.), Queer theory . Palgrave Macmillan: Houndsmill. Cannibals and Ghosts: Forms of Capital, Immobility, and Dependence Among Former Javanese Sex Workers in South Bali (Indonesia)

Matteo Carlo Alcano

The need for more research on contemporary masculinities in Indonesia has long been acknowledged (see, for instance, Nilan 2010 , 2011 ). Recent publications have focused speciﬁ cally on the construction of Indonesian masculinities (Elmhirst 2007 ; Ford and Lyons 2012 ; Nilan 2009 ; Nilan et al. 2008 ; Noszlopy 2005 ). Masculinity has been explored in studies of youth and sexuality (Beazley 2003 ) and in studies of nonnormative sexualities (Boellstorff 2005 ; Oetomo 2000 ). A growing number of works discuss masculinity in relation to violence (Barker 2001 ; Kristiansen 2003 ) and violent youth subcultures (Nilan 2011 ). This chapter is intended as a reﬂ ection on the construction of a peculiar form of masculine subjectivity that originates in the context of sex work. It focuses on the status of being a former sex worker and the ways masculinity is learned, produced, regulated, and critiqued both individually and collectively in a particular context of migration, violence, and sex tourism. It is based on participant observation and ethnographic research conducted among a street gang of East Javanese sex workers and former sex workers who cater the homosexual market in South Bali.

This chapter is part of the research for the doctoral program in Anthropology of the University of Milano—Bicocca. Research was conducted in East Java and South Bali for 20 months between 2008 and 2010. Part of this chapter is developed from “Sulla carne degli altri: forme di capitale, immobilità e dipendenza fra gli ex lavoratori del sesso a Bali (Indonesia),” in S. Vignato (ed.) Soggetti al lavoro , Torino: Utet, pp. 131–150. I would like to thank Silvia Vignato, Luca Rimoldi, Claudia Mattalucci, and Silvia Barberani. A special thanks to Rizal. I thank my family for supporting this research throughout, materially and emotionally, and Sirio Barillaro, for his constant support and love. Lastly, I dedicate this chapter to my dearest friend Ananta, who died in November 2012 and will always have a special place in my heart. All names used in this chapter are pseudonyms to protect the identity of my informants. In addition, life history details are altered or purposely left imprecise to some extent to maintain anonymity of the individuals. All words in italic are Indonesian terms. M. C. Alcano (*) Dipartimento di Scienze Umane per la Formazione R. Massa , Università degli studi di Milano - Bicocca, P.za Ateneo Nuovo 1 , Milano 20126 , Italy e-mail: [email protected]

J. Gelfer (ed.), Masculinities in a Global Era, International and Cultural Psychology 4, 229 DOI 10.1007/978-1-4614-6931-5_13, © Springer Science+Business Media New York 2014 230 M.C. Alcano

Understanding male prostitution as sex work better refl ects the ways in which men understand their experiences of commercial sexual exchange and interpret their occupation in terms of calculation, opportunities, and responsibilities. It also allows to explore the signifi cance of monetized sexual exchange for the ways in which these young men conceive of their sense of self as they attempt to make the diffi cult transition from adolescence to adulthood. While I do not claim the experiences of a particular group of young men to be representative of all male sex workers (or former sex workers) in South Bali and Indonesia, their accounts of rational work and their narratives about the limits and contradictions of entrepreneurship provide fruitful insights in the underresearched areas of male sex work and current male subjectivity in Indonesia. I use the language of subjectivity in place of identity because it offers a more dynamic perspective of processes of selfhood (see Blackwood 2010 ). As Sherry Ortner (2005 ) pointed out in her seminal essay about the theoretical and ethnographic implications of the notion of subjectivity through the analysis of work, subjectivity comprises “the ensemble of modes of perception, affect, thought, desire, fear and so forth that animate acting subjects” and “the cultural and social formations that shape, organize and provoke these modes of affect” (Ortner 2005 , p. 31). The narratives of former sex workers demonstrate how these two concur closely in the formation of masculine selves. This chapter is ideally broken into three sections. First, I introduce Rizal and Fedry, respectively, a former and a current sex worker, to provide ethnographic evidence about sex work in South Bali. I then examine the relevance of their stories in the study of subjectivity. In the remaining sections, I analyze the key notions of body capital, immobility, and dependence as they emerge from numerous conversations with former sex workers. I will describe how these young men conceptualize work as a practice that makes them free while turning them into slaves at the same time. In the conclusion I elaborate on the impact of sex work on the lives of these young Javanese migrants and return to discuss subjectivity.

Rizal and Fedry

Rizal

Rizal is 28 years old and considers himself a former sex worker. Like many Javanese migrants who move to South Bali in search of lucrative opportunities as sex workers on the market for homosexual tourists but fail to fi nd a wealthy partner and attain fi nancial security, Rizal spends most of his day consuming alcohol outside the billiard room located on Jalan Plawa, in Seminyak (South Bali). After the unexpected and abrupt conclusion of a long-term relationship with a retired real estate agent from Perth, Australia, Rizal fi nds himself alone and ponders his options, in work and in life: Cannibals and Ghosts: Forms of Capital, Immobility… 231

I have got nothing to offer, and the bule 1 won’t look at me anymore because I am too old. However I have changed a lot while in Bali, and now I feel that I cannot move forward; I have no real skills, I feel paralyzed. I sit here outside the billiard room, where you have found me, and I wait for a friend to buy some cigarettes for me or to bring me something to drink. There is nothing else I can do. (Rizal) To continue to live in Bali, Rizal relies on the support and help of some of his younger friends who are still working as sex workers: My younger brothers who are still desired by the bule and still make good money will help me get through the day. They bring me food, cigarettes and alcohol and that is everything I need. They will take care of me. Once you become old, you absolutely must rely on their fl esh: their bodies still have a precious value on the market. We joke and say that we are “cannibals” [ kanibal], because we feed on their fl esh and muscles. In exchange, we give them what we can: we offer advice to help stay away from trouble and enemies. (Rizal) I often ran into Rizal between four and fi ve in the morning, while he sat alone on the dirty steps of the abandoned Kudos bar, once a popular gay night club in the lower part of Jalan Dhyana Pura, the busy street across the billiard room and the heart of the gay nightlife and gay sex market in South Bali. There in the dark, Rizal awaited patiently for his friends: I wake up when everyone else goes to sleep. My younger brothers always meet for early morning breakfast at one of the warung [food stalls] of the area. They are very hungry and tired because they probably drank a lot, they were high on drugs: they are usually extremely intoxicated. They bring me some food and tell me everything that went on at the bars at night: if one of them has found a bule to have sex with, if there have been any fi ghts on the street with other sex workers or with the police. And then, they are off to bed. Like right now: can you hear the noise of their motorbikes? (Rizal) When I fi rst began to talk to Rizal, I was immediately drawn by the sense of profound loneliness that accompanied his words and that seemed to permeate the life of this young man: Dark. Dhyana Pura is very dark at night, because all the restaurants and all the bars have closed and turned their big neon lights off and everyone has left. Can you hear the silence? It is almost overwhelming. We must speak softly. Tomorrow the noise, the music and the chaos will resound on this street once again, but for now there can only be whispers. The silence is so haunting, you can almost hear my brothers as they race home on their motorbikes. They are going to Villa Mangga. That is their home. I used to live there myself not too long ago. At night, I would leave Dhyana Pura and drive off to my room at Villa Mangga. Nowadays, I sit here and wait for someone to bring me something to eat for breakfast. In a few hours I will go hang out on a bench outside the billiard room, and I will wait, again, for drinks and cigarettes. This is what I do every day, and this is what I think I’ll do every day for the rest of my life. (Rizal)

Fedry

When discussing the lives and experiences of his younger “brothers,” Rizal sees himself in them and looks back at the years he spent living and working as a sex 232 M.C. Alcano worker in South Bali. Rizal moved to Bali from Surabaya, East Java, when he was 19 years old and joined one of the numerous antagonist street gangs of male sex workers that populate the affl uent tourist and residential areas of Kuta, Legian, and Seminyak (South Bali). These gangs regroup young heterosexual men aged 16–27 who engage in forms of compensated sex with homosexual tourists and foreign permanent residents. Their members are also involved into a series of illegal activities such as theft and drug sale. Rizal was once a member of the Villa Mangga gang. This particular gang is named after the cul-de-sac across the street and consists of young migrants from the inner city of Surabaya. At Villa Mangga gang members undergo a violent initiation and learn how to tailor their bodies to meet the requests of the sex market. Rizal often mentioned a young man named Fedry in the course of our conversations. Fedry became a member of the Villa Mangga gang around the time Rizal decided to leave the group. In the following fragment, Rizal describes Fedry’s fi rst couple of weeks as a new member of the gang: At fi rst I didn’t know Fedry very well. My brothers said he and Ronnie went to the same school, near Jambangan, but that was the only piece of information I had at the time. Malek knew Fedry’s cousin quite well and recounted that everyone in their home village [ kam- pung ] remembered Fedry, because he was very tiny and very skinny, especially when compared to the other boys his age. To be honest with you, when he fi rst came to Villa Mangga Fedry did not take up much space on the mattress in his room; he had no muscles (…), he was little, but a bundle of nerves and had a fearful attitude about him. He would eat in silence, look around frantically but walked as if he was blind: he would always ask the other brothers to drive him around. To be honest with you, he had no idea of where he was or what he was doing at all. (Rizal) Fedry, 17 years of age, arrived in Bali in late 2008 with the help of a cousin who had already been working as a sex worker for 3 years at that time and had been involved in a relationship with a 63-year-old rich engineer from Melbourne, Australia, for over a year and a half. Again Rizal: My brothers always know what to do in this kind of situation because they have specifi c rules, and everyone knows the rules. Take Fedry, for example. He used to be worthless, and now he is priceless. And do you know what it takes to go from a nobody to someone who is worth millions of rupiahs? Do you know what it takes to be desired by the bule , to fi nd monetary support and leave Bali for good? My brothers will beat you up, kick you, punch you, burn you with cigarettes; they will teach you the value of pain and the act of anal sex; they will prepare you for the market, for the customers, their requests and their desires. You will learn how to act, speak and behave like a gay man. Like they say, if you follow the rules you will know everything that there is to know about this life and you will be in control of your future. Your body will get you very far, maybe even as far as Australia, or Europe. You will be independent. You are a slave, but a slave of your own making. You make your own choices, as painful as that might be. This is what Fedry has learned. (Rizal) R e fl ecting upon Fedry’s early days in the gang, Rizal observes that: Fedry arrived as I was preparing to leave Villa Mangga. I will never forget this coincidence. I think about it every day, as I see him drive by the billiard room in the afternoon. I wish him the best: to fi nd a decent man, to become rich; to leave this island and see the world. Otherwise, he will probably sit next to me outside the billiard room. (Rizal) Cannibals and Ghosts: Forms of Capital, Immobility… 233

Through Fedry, Rizal becomes aware of some of the limits and consequences of his work experience and acknowledges the failure of his long-term life project and expectations. He acquires personal distance from the sex market and fi nds himself talking about his life as a former sex worker. Rizal did not “go very far”; instead, he feels “paralyzed,” “unable to move, to go anywhere,” and “stuck” outside the billiard room of Jalan Plawa as he depends on the help and support of younger gang members. By comparing his current state to similar life trajectories of former sex workers, he can’t help but wonder: You ask yourself: What have I actually been doing in Bali all these years? Nothing, absolutely nothing. I am still here, I am not free and I have nothing. First you try to learn as much as you can from your brothers, you plan a certain type of life for yourself, you devise strategies, but in the end you realize that you cannot have everything under control, that sometimes you make mistakes and some other times things just don’t turn out the way you thought they would. You fi nd yourself depending on those young kids. They think they have it all, just like I did. They will help you. And you, you feed on the product of their work. (Rizal) When you fi st arrive in Bali, you have nowhere to go, nowhere to sleep. You basically sleep on the beach. It’s very silent there. You are scared, everything is new. You can barely fall asleep, afraid that someone might come and steal your stuff. But there is a sort of inexplicable excitement about the things to come. Years later, when you’re too old for the market and don’t work anymore, you get up very early in the morning: outside it is still dark. You are no longer scared, everyone knows who you are, but you realize nothing new will happen to you. In Bali, you start in the dark and end up in the dark, in the still of the night. (Rizal) As young men who become part of local street gangs, these Javanese migrants work strenuously on their corporeal skills in order to produce bodily capital and economic value and achieve fi nancial autonomy; they are euphoric and naïve, caught up in their daily activities, and driven by their immediate needs. As they grow older and leave (or prepare to leave) the sex market, they articulate a more explicit and critical refl ection on their future, and on the ineluctability of their dependence on the work—and the “fl esh”—of their younger “brothers.” They are jaded and lack enthusiasm; their words present a more disenchanted vision of the world and recuperate both a sense of time depth and a certain analytical perspective that are absent among their younger friends. As Rizal asserts with no doubt: I am Fedry, he just doesn’t know that yet. When I see Fedry I see my own choices before my eyes. I am in the process of seeing things more clearly now. Sometimes I want to go up to Fedry and talk to him. For him, you know, we are on the opposite sides of the world right now. After all, he usually wakes up when I go to sleep. (Rizal)

Subjectivity in the Mirror

I would like to draw attention to the ethnographic signiﬁ cance of Rizal’s words and thoughts about his own past and the lives of his younger friends and their broad implications in the study of subjectivity and masculinity in non-Western and postcolonial societies. 234 M.C. Alcano

As suggested by Biehl et al. (2007 , p. 15), when approaching the delicate and complex matter of subjectivity, it is crucial to grasp the process of “orchestration of the self,” that is, the arrangement of events, achievements, and defeats into value- feeling states of hope and hopelessness, robustness and demoralization, and competence and ineffi cacy. Social actors, and former Javanese sex workers are by no means an exception, develop concerns, obsessions, and perplexities; they also ponder the consequences of their actions. The description of their life experience and the attentive analysis of their words, their refl ection on the physical and psychological demands and consequences of sex work, unveil some of the implicit mecha- nisms that occur in the formation of a specifi c idea of the self in a particular context. According to Biehl, Good, and Kleinman, the goal of such ethnographic approach is to “explore emerging patterns of self-formation and to comprehend how inner life and its relationship to values is changing; how will, thinking and judgment are evolving in specifi c settings; how these transformations affect suffering and our responses to it” (2007 , p. 12). These authors invite to take into consideration the notions of “self-critique” and “self-renewal.” By encompassing the sterile opposition between social structure and individual (and collective) agency, Biehl, Good, and Kleinman underscore how social actors form a specifi c idea of the self by refl ecting upon the voids and silences, the discrepancies and contradictions that they have experienced (and continue to experience) in life. A “subversion of the self” (Hirschman 1995 ) does not translate necessarily into the subversion of social structures; rather, it is a form of critical (re) thinking and a way to adjust to being in the world. Through circumstances subjects look at themselves in new and unpredictable ways; they become aware of the impact of their life choices and seek ways to make sense of their life trajectory and to “endure experiences that would otherwise be unbearable” (Biehl et al. 2007 , p. 14). It is in this sense that Rizal’s words acquire a pertinent meaning: I thought I knew all about myself and my body. It was what my brothers had taught me. I felt the pain but did not see the scars. Now I see them. Maybe not all of them, but I see them. (Rizal) DelVecchio Good et al. (2008 ) introduce two more elements that ought to be considered when exploring subjectivity through a biographical approach. The fi rst is the idea that there is a “sense of the hidden, the unspoken and the unspeakable, that appears in the fi ssures and gaps of the everyday life and is very much part of subjectivity in all its complexity” (p. 11). When Rizal sees Fedry drive home on his motorbike, he tells me that he would like to “say something to him,” but ultimately he desists. When I asked Rizal to explain the reasons behind his hesitation, he told me that: As long as you’re young and you are still working with your brothers, you don’t want to hear silly stories about how you’re probably going to end up one day. You so strongly believe in what you’re doing that these stories don’t make any sense to you. When I talk to Fedry I warn him about his enemies in Bali. I help him move forward in his daily activities. If I told him that one day he might sit outside the billiard room and wait for food and cigarettes I would demotivate him. He probably wouldn’t listen to me anyways. Nobody wants to believe in failure. Some things are better left unsaid. (Rizal) Cannibals and Ghosts: Forms of Capital, Immobility… 235

The second element is what Del Vecchio Good, Hyde, Pinto, and Good call “the ghost,” that is, a form of self-identiﬁ cation into the actions and the words of another person (2008 , pp. 11–17). To paraphrase their argumentation, ghosts appear to render explicit and to confront personal doubts and inner fears. In the case of former Javanese sex workers, the younger gang members of Villa Mangga seem to trigger a process of self-recognition that coincides with a moment of self-critique. “I am Fedry,” said Rizal, thereby reﬂ ecting upon his own life rather than passing judgment on Fedry’s actions: When I see Fedry I see my choices and my own life before my eyes. The same obsessions, the same dreams. And I wonder: would I do this again? Would I do it differently? What would I do if I could turn back time? Fedry and all my other brothers at Villa Mangga make me relive the moment I left my village and joined the gang. They make me think about who I was and the person I’ve become. (Rizal)

Ideas of Capital, Autonomy, and the Paradox of Freedom

For the Javanese sex workers who live at Villa Mangga, the gang provides models of how to consider oneself in relation to the group. New gang members learn a codifi ed set of practices that are considered appropriate for the homosexual sex market: this specifi c knowledge is shared among gang members and passed on to new generations of initiates. Furthermore, those who become affi liated with the Villa Mangga gang rely heavily on a wide network of solidarity and benefi t from the help and support of existing gang members. To join the gang means ultimately to access cultural and social capital, to paraphrase the work of Pierre Bourdieu ( 1986 ), in order to convert every fi ber of every muscle into bodily capital and to produce value (Wacquant 1995 ). According to Bourdieu (1986 ), capital is accumulated labor (in its materialized or incorporated form) which enables social actors to appropriate social energy in the form of reifi ed or living labor. In its “embodied” state, cultural capital includes “long-lasting dispositions of the mind and the body” (Bourdieu 1986 , p. 247) that become a part of a person’s habitus and defi ne his/her specifi city. This set of knowledge and practical skills is acquired through cultural and collective transmission and is used to attain personal and social improvement. More specifi cally, cultural capital differentiates roles and statuses, creates social agents, and secures them with symbolic and material profi ts. Social capital, on the other hand, is based on a sense of belonging to a group. It is “the aggregate of the actual and potential resources which are linked to a possession of a durable network of more or less institutionalized relationships of mutual acquaintance and recognition—or in other words, membership in a group—which provides each of its members with the backing of the collectivity-owned capital” (Bourdieu 1986 , pp. 248–249). According to Bourdieu, cultural and social capital might be converted into economic capital, as research among Javanese male sex workers in South Bali shows. 236 M.C. Alcano

Central at Villa Mangga is the complex fabrication of male identities through the manipulation of bodies. Gang members do not perceive themselves as homosexuals but self-identify as heterosexual men. They think of homosexuality as something that can be fabricated (membuat ), both as constructed—manufactured from different parts—and as created, deliberately invented for the purpose of deception. In this sense, homosexuality is not related to sexual desire or sexual orientation but is a category that refers to a set of distinctive public practices that a person learns through initiation by peers and that are, ultimately, linked to sex work (Alcano 2011 , p. 378). A crucial precondition for fabricating a homosexual self to work in the sex market is the violent transformation of the body into an object of desire and thus into a resource. An explicit defi nition of the body as a commodity (komoditas ) underlies and justifi es the need for violence. Gang members consider their sexual behavior as raw, malleable material that can be manipulated to become their primary source of income. Ritualized violent practices that occur shortly after arriving in Bali are conceived as a rite of passage into a new way of being in the world. This initiation takes the form of a fi ght between one or more existing members of the gang and the newcomer. The gang member is cheered on by the other members, and the initiate is the object of gambling, with bets being made on how long he will endure the pain. A series of ritualized physical offenses is thus directed toward the initiate, including—for the most part—punches, kicks, bites, and (cigarette) burns. It is also common to force the initiate to masturbate by using sex toys. The ritual fi ght marks the detachment from a former self and the full inclusion into the gang. Underlying the fi ght is the idea that sex work requires high tolerance to pain and that this can be learned artifi cially. As several informants point out, violence is needed in order to “produce slaves” (untuk menciptakan budak). This refers to individuals who are able to use their bodies in the many ways that the sex market requires. My informants said that “we are slaves of our own making,” “we use violence and turn our body into something to sell, and we do it alone, by ourselves.” Interestingly, they used the word “slave” to describe a state of autonomy, independence, and entrepreneurship (Alcano 2011 , pp. 379–381). According to them, “to become slaves” means to “become independent, self-suffi cient” (mandiri ), and, ultimately, “free.” Once a youth is accepted as a member of the gang, his “brothers” help him to create a new fi ctitious identity, which is supported by a pseudonym, life story, family background, and childhood history. These men work on what they consider their professional skills. Effort is put into learning at least one foreign language. In public, they mimic a series of codifi ed postures and gestures that they believe are appropriate for a gay man. Some are learned by observing homosexual tourists and permanent gay residents in Bali or by watching Western movies with gay characters and a gay storyline. Other gestures are borrowed from Indonesian homosexuals who are part of the gay community in Bali—for the most part university students and migrants from other parts of Indonesia, including Java, who work in the tourist industry mainly as waiters (Alcano 2011 , pp. 381–383). What emerges here is a new and specifi c idea of gender role, one that places importance on sexual practices and public performance, rather than sexual orientation and feelings. Among the Cannibals and Ghosts: Forms of Capital, Immobility… 237 inhabitants of Villa Mangga, the body becomes a person’s capital and is offered to male clients in exchange for money and long-term fi nancial support. This economic transaction is dissimulated in the form of a sentimental relationship. A successful ritual fi ght marks the detachment from a former self and full inclusion into the gang, its networks of protection, solidarity, and support in the search for customers. They also guarantee street credibility and respect at the level of the local informal economy and street warfare in South Bali. To become a member of one of the antagonistic street gangs in Bali is vital, as my informants suggest. In the Seminyak area there is little room for male prostitutes who are not affi liated to one of these groups, as the territory is almost entirely controlled by street gangs. The young men who do not join a street gang and work alone on the streets are known as “hustlers” and are the object of retaliation and physical aggressions: [Hustlers] work the streets alone for very little money. They don’t know the territory and look for customers everywhere they want; most of the time they don’t ask for much in return, maybe just some quick cash for food or drinks. This is big competition for us, you know, because the customers prefer to fi nd cheap sex with no implications. They [hustlers] need to understand that there are rules around here. The gangs have split the areas and don’t like it when prostitutes interfere with their business. They might kill to protect their business. We [gang members] have a special code, with rules and have a different project in mind, not just quick cash. (Harry, 22 years old) Gang members operate on a specifi c territory and enjoy the protection of one another. At night, street fi ghts and violent confl icts arise among members of different gangs, with personal vendettas carried out around the beach area. In this case, confl ict resolution is usually handled by former sex workers and former gang members and may procrastinate over a long period of time. Furthermore, gang members help and support each other in times of fi nancial hardship: this is frequently the case during the tourist low season in Bali when a “brother” is often unable to fi nd a partner and fi nancial support and needs the help of his friends.

Accumulation and Hazard

The billiard room is the place where the young inhabitants of Villa Mangga devise work strategies in the attempt to look for potential new partners among the foreign tourists who arrive in Bali on a weekly basis. These are older men who hang out at the gay beach in Petitenget in the afternoon, attend the gay bars at night, and often seek the company of young Indonesian men on dedicated Internet pages before they even arrive in Bali. Gang members spend most of their day together and are immersed in gang activities all day long; however, it is the afternoon billiard game that provides an opportunity to discuss explicitly “what to do with the new bule , who to ‘hunt’, and how to do it,” as Rizal suggests: They argue, they yell, and they laugh together in that damn billiard room. Actually, it looks like they are having a good time, but the truth is that there is some serious business going on in that room in the afternoon. I used to spend a lot of time in there myself when I was 238 M.C. Alcano

young so I know very well what I am talking about. The brothers play billiard of course, and focus on the game, but most of all they are making important decisions about themselves and about each other. Everyone must be very present because those decisions involve everyone and affect everyone. You see, it’s like an obsession, and the obsession makes them yell, stamp their feet, smash tea bottles on the wall. They’d even use their cues to beat each other up. They are aggressive, stupid, naive. (Rizal) To sit outside the billiard room, on the contrary, is to acknowledge the exclusion from direct gang activities. There comes a time in the short career of these Javanese sex workers when they feel their presence within the gang becomes a burden for the gang itself and poses a threat to the well-being and success of all gang members. Between the age of 26 and 28, gang members begin to perceive themselves as too “old” (tua ). The young men of Villa Mangga seem to agree on the fact that foreign tourists prefer younger adolescent-looking men. At 26 sex workers feel they look “tired,” that their bodies are “consumed” and “worn out,” that their skin is “rough,” and that their appearance is “not so fresh anymore.” Insofar as all members are required to provide for themselves and for other gang members in times of need, those who do not feel “desirable,” “marketable,” and capable of generating profi t decide to voluntarily leave the gang. To avoid undermining the social and economic capital of the gang, these men exit the billiard room and the sex market and are left with no job. Indeed, the idea of becoming old is also expressed through the word ngangur , which means “to be unemployed.” Outside the billiard room, former sex workers elaborate critically on their biographical and work trajectories. I once asked Rizal: “Why do you say your friends are stupid?” The vivid picture he offered in return provided a refl ection on his life and the life of his “brothers”: My younger brothers do not realize that things don’t always go the way they plan. When you are young you think that you can plan your every move, that you can be in control of pretty much everything, and foresee the outcomes and the consequences of every action. You see no obstacles, no diffi culties; there is no goal you cannot achieve; but look carefully! Do you see the billiard table? Do you see the cracks, the bumps, the dust, the damages on the table? The cue is old and the tip is split in two. Under these conditions, it is quite hard to pocket a ball! To be honest with you, it’s almost impossible at times! This is the reason why I think they are stupid. They can plan as many things as they want, they might think they know all the tricks to fool the bule and the other gangs, but in the end anything can happen, anything; and all of a sudden things can change. Take Fauzal for example. (Rizal) Fauzal is 29 years old and sits next to Rizal outside the billiard room. When he was 23 he was in a relationship with Julian, a much older retired sales manager from the Netherlands who used to spend half a year in Bali. Shortly after Fauzal turned 27, Julian died while still in Holland, leaving Fauzal alone with no form of economic support. It is interesting to notice that rather than emphasizing a life based on capital and accumulation, Rizal and Fauzal insist on the unpredictability of the future and the inevitability of fate, beyond any tactical calculation or strategy. While the younger member of Villa Mangga work toward the creation of bodily capital to produce value and attain fi nancial and personal autonomy, former gang members begin to question the effi cacy of such corporeal transformation and cast doubt over the outcomes of Cannibals and Ghosts: Forms of Capital, Immobility… 239 these work stratagems. They stress the importance of chance, a concept that is similar to the notion of “roulette,” to reprise Pierre Bourdieu and his theorization on the forms of capital. In his essay, Bourdieu (1986 ) opposes the idea of a world based on capital accumulation to that of a world based on fate and chance alone: Roulette, which holds out the opportunity of winning a lot of money in a short space of time, and therefore of changing one’s social status quasi-instantaneously, and in which the winning of the previous spin of the wheel can be staked and lost at every new spin, gives a fairly accurate image of (…) a world without accumulation (…) in which every moment is perfectly independent from the previous one (…) so that at each moment anyone can become anything. (Bourdieu 1986 , p. 241) While Bourdieu contrasted the regularities and orderliness of a society based upon capital accumulation to the unpredictability of a world based on hazard and gambling, the words of my informants seem to suggest the possibility to consider their life and work experience from both perspectives. Metaphorically speaking, there are two different ideas of the body and two divergent worldviews that shape up inside and outside the billiard room. Inside the billiard room, the body is conceptualized in terms of a tool that provides access to a world of freedom and fi nancial and personal independence, the idea behind the recurrent expression “to be slaves of our own making”; outside the billiard room, however, the body is somehow reexam- ined in the light of recent events and it is thought to be at the mercy of a fl uctuating and unpredictable sex market.

Immobility and the Inability to Work

Among the former sex workers I have met, those who decide to continue to live in Bali and have not accumulated sufﬁ cient economic capital to support themselves believe that they are “incapable of moving” (tetap , literally “still,” “motionless”). This state of immobility is also evoked by the word sepi , which indicates the absence of any human activity and is used by my informants to denote a sense of overall emptiness and desolation. It is also well exempliﬁ ed by the condition of sitting per- manently outside the billiard room. Through the notion of immobility, former Javanese sex workers question their place and their role within Indonesian society. First and foremost, the idea of immobility has a physical and spatial connotation and suggests the inability to move forward as well as the impossibility to turn back in time and reconsider a personal life choice. Many former sex workers maintain they no longer view Bali as a passage point to the “Western world.” On the contrary, they describe their life on the island as a “permanent condition.” This is, for instance, how Yudha, 27 years old, narrates the events that led him to leave his home city of Surabaya at the age of 19: Femy [a friend from Surabaya who had been living in Bali] came back to Surabaya with a lot of pictures of his “friend” from Texas. He said he took those pictures while he was traveling America with his “friend.” Actually, he never went to America. His “friend” took his pictures and sent them via email and Femy just pretended he had gone to America. At the 240 M.C. Alcano

time, though, I didn’t really care. I would look at those pictures and see a fancy sports car parked in front of a big house. His “friend” was also in the picture, but far away in the background; I couldn’t really see his face. He was probably old. You know, when you look at those pictures you think you also want to move to Bali and fi nd a “friend” that will take you to see the world. You don’t really give much thought as to how you are going to make friends like that man from Texas. Actually you even think that all men from America are like that, that they have money, luxury. When you look at those pictures you don’t just see Bali, you see America! You don’t really think: oh, what am I gonna do in Bali? You think, I wonder what it is like to live in America. Bali is just a passage point. (Yudha) Yudha did not fi nd a stable partner and never traveled around the world. He went out with a restaurateur from Perth who had a restaurant business in Bali but eventually decided to sell his property and license and move back to Australia by himself: When Ryan left me here with no money, I tried to look for another bule but many made promises that did not keep. After a while you know how these things work. The bule come to Bali, look for a local boy, promise the world and then leave. A lot of them are not rich at all, they don’t own fancy cars, they live in small apartments. They spend a lot of money while they are in Bali because it’s a vacation for them, but once they’re back home, they are broke. At some point you realize all this. However at the same time you also know you cannot go back to Surabaya, to the moment when you thought all men from America had the same life that Femy’s friend from Texas had. You know, had I known all of this, I would have probably tried a career as a photographer, you know I like to take pictures. I probably would have had better chances to travel the world as a photographer than as a prostitute! Oh well, I am still here. I am stuck. (Yudha) Yudha also talks about the risks of social immobility: For people like me, there is no place to go other than here [the bench outside the billiard room]. When you live the life I have lived, and the life that my “brothers” have lived, there is no actual time to learn how to do other things. Not that you really think you’re ever going to need other skills. Some of my “brothers” dance as go-go dancers at night, and that is a good thing because the bule will see you up there dancing and will want to sleep with you, but that is also something that you will not be able to do for the rest of your life. Yes, you’ve learned how to dance at the bar, but that’s about it. It’s really not going to change your life. So what am I supposed to do now? Look for a job? Earn a salary? I wonder, but really don’t give it much thought. I drink a lot, that I do. (Yudha) Former sex workers ponder the advantages and disadvantages of entering salaried work but also face the diffi culties of adjusting to a regular job, a fi xed work schedule, and a low wage. Minimum wage in Indonesia averages around one million rupiahs per month ($10), the equivalent of two nights’ worth of work on the sex market. Several “successful” gang members at Villa Mangga receive cash deposits for over eight million rupiahs a month from their partners abroad. Furthermore, work shifts at tourist facilities in South Bali are grueling and usually average between 12 and 14 h a day with a half hour break for lunch. To enter salaried work, then, means to give up a certain lifestyle: When you think about it, you ask yourself: should I look for a job? I mean, the salary is so shitty. One million a month? What is it? Nothing! You won’t pay rent, or have your own motorbike, you won’t be able to afford clothes, drinks, drugs, and all the things that you like. One million rupiahs to work all day under a damn boss, and everyone knows bosses are killers around here. It’s not even worth thinking about that. (Yudha) Cannibals and Ghosts: Forms of Capital, Immobility… 241

If you’re lucky you might get a job as a waiter. It’s harder to work in a hotel, because they look for people with a degree in tourism there. It’s easier to be hired at a restaurant or at a laundry shop. Here again, is it worth it? So much work and so little salary. You basically work all day and the only thing you can afford is rice. (Yudha) The absence of any form of income generates bonds of dependence between those who have left the gang and sit outside the billiard room and the younger gang members who are active on the sex market and still produce value. In the next section I will explore ethnographically this notion of interdependence among former and current sex workers.

“Flesh,” Solidarity, and Bonds of Dependence

Former Javanese sex workers rethink the personal and corporeal transformations they have experienced in Bali in the light of their present condition. They refl ect upon the idea of “becoming slaves” that characterized their early years as gang members and elaborate on the limited value of their body on the sex market. More specifi cally, they now rethink their body in terms of mere “fl esh”: my informants use the Indonesian word tubuh , which means “body” in the sense of “body parts,” or even in the acceptation of “pieces of meat” (at times they also borrow the English term fl esh ): When you work on your body, you turn it into something that the bule want. You think of your body as the instrument that will change your life forever, for the better of course. Well, actually, it is just an object, and people use it as they please. Once you become old and don’t know what to do with it anymore, that’s when you realize it was just meat for sale. I heard a lot of bule say that once we get older we are just rotten meat, or expired goods, and they don’t want to buy anything like that. If you really think about it, we’ve worked on our body but ultimately the decision is up to the customers. The metaphor of the “meat” and the idea of “fl esh,” which substitute the previous idea of the body as the focus of unremitting attention and the instrument to exercise control over one’s future, are now used by these former sex workers to acknowledge the failure of their work activity and to shed light on the inconsistencies and incongruities of the sex market. These young men who feel they have become too “old” to continue working as sex workers retrace and defi ne past and present forms of dependence, and also weigh up short- and long-term life perspectives. We are always going to be “brothers,” even after you leave the gang and stop working. To quit working actually is a sign that you care about the needs of the gang, that you worry about the success of your brothers. On the other hand, if your body is still worth money it is your duty to take care of your older brothers. When I was younger, I also used to take care of our former gang members; now it is their turn to take care of me. Their fl esh provides me with food, cigarettes, alcohol. I rely on their fl esh, I depend upon it. One day they will also depend on somebody’s fl esh. I have shown that older gang members voluntarily leave the gang to avoid jeop- ardizing the success of the group as a whole. However, as they explain, there are 242 M.C. Alcano bonds of solidarity and mutual help that remain very strong and continue beyond the active participation to gang activities. These are often described through the notion of “need” (butuh ). Former sex workers “need” the assistance and the support of younger gang members because they “need” food, cigarettes, alcohol, and drugs, but also clothes and medicines: Everyone works tirelessly to bring food and drinks. We sit outside the billiard room and wait for our younger brothers to stop by around fi ve o’clock in the afternoon. At night, then, they bring some food and some drinks before they go to work. When you’ve been drinking every night, like we have, you are somehow used to consuming alcohol at night and you wish to continue to do so. But alcohol is expensive, you know. Beer is cheaper, but hard liquor is expensive. Crystal meth is also expensive. But our brothers know the right people and can always spare some. (Rizal) Our brothers know we also need clothes. Some of them are so rich that never wear the same clothes more than once. When they want to get rid of something they don’t need they come here and give it to us. We also need medicines. When my teeth hurts Ronnie always goes to the pharmacy and buys vitamins for me. He even brought Hendra some bandaging for his stomach once. (Rizal) In exchange, former sex workers provide current gang members with useful advice to avoid trouble and settle the confl icts that arise with other gangs in the Seminyak area on a daily basis. At some levels, violence is endemic in this region, although it is largely played out at night and away from the public eye, and street fi ghts erupt among gangs to establish the control of a specifi c territory, and the right to work in particular territorial niches at certain times of the day. On any given night, motorbikes are set on fi re, indirect revenge is carried out in the back alleys of the busy tourist areas, and beatings occur at the beach. In the daytime, former sex workers from different gangs meet to discuss a possible solution to prevent further open confrontations. A compromise or agreement is usually reached in the form of a temporary truce, as no gang is interested in perpetrating a public display of violence that might endanger the sex market of the tourist area. In short, former sex workers act as mediators, as Fauzal explains: We meet with former gang leaders and try to mediate for the sake of the market. We set the boundaries of our territory and commit to respect the work space of other gangs. These decisions require more maturity. If it was up to the young kids they would kill each other on the streets at night. (Fauzal) We talk, we make decisions and then we explain what is going on to our younger brothers. Sometimes we also speak with the police: it is important that nobody is arrested, or followed around. The police ask for money and we must take care of that as well. We also make sure that nothing is published on the press about gunfi ghts and crime on our streets, or else nobody will come out at night and party anymore. (Fauzal) The conversations between former and current gang members are interesting because they reveal the pedagogic value of these daily exchanges, when older members instruct their younger “brothers” on how to act toward the members of rival gangs: Some of them [the younger gang members] think they can control the market without seriously worrying about other gangs, but this is not the case. It is important that they know who is who, who is in charge of another gang, who is untouchable, who’s got connections Cannibals and Ghosts: Forms of Capital, Immobility… 243

and protection. The consequences of stupid mistakes fall on the group as a whole so they’d better stay away from trouble. (Fauzal) The notion of “fl esh” is particularly effective because it sheds light over two different orders of dependence. The fi rst ties the work of gang members to the needs and demands of the foreign tourists. As former sex workers maintain, the body is nothing but mere “fl esh for sale” and ultimately it is under the control of those who decide to purchase it. In this sense, they argue, any attempt to master the body and to maximize its use to produce value is always partial and imperfect, and the very ideas of freedom or mobility are inherently contradictory and illusory. Ultimately, it is the market that dictates the fortunes and misfortunes of young sex workers, regardless of their commitment and their strategies. From this point of view, those who “still sell their fl esh for money” only exercise a limited control over their body. The second binds the life experience of former sex workers and the work activities of young gang members, where the former expect and await for help and support, while the latter receive advice and protection in exchange. In this second acceptation, the “fl esh” is a resource that the young men of Villa Mangga share with those who have quit the gang for the sake of the community. In this sense also, they only partially dispose of their own body. Here again, the body creates a bond of dependence.

Conclusion

As they become part of a local gang of sex workers, the young Javanese migrants of Villa Mangga deliberately manipulate their bodies to delimit the boundaries of their professional activity. This is a collective effort and an inventive process that occurs in a context of violence and extreme competitiveness. The strenuous and problematic representation of a ﬁ ctitious self is the most crucial part of the commercial exchange that takes place in South Bali and the commitment to gang activities is all-embracing and time-consuming. In this sense, masculinity is reworked and reshaped to comply with the exigencies of the sex market and in order to achieve ﬁ nancial security and prepare adequately the transition to adult life. The impact of these transformations on the lives of these young men is most visible on the long run, as they retire from sex work and prepare to face life outside the gang. Outside the billiard room, former sex workers have the opportunity to look back at their experience in Bali from a different perspective. They are able to trace a continuum between the state of dependence of their younger friends, who rely on the requests and decisions of their foreign partners, and their own condition of physical and social immobility and dependence. Their words and their biographies show that there are forms and bonds of dependence that reiterate over time. As Fauzal, for instance, maintains: “We should have known it all along: we were never free, there never was any mobility and we always depended on someone else.” 244 M.C. Alcano

The words and the stories of formers sex workers provide in-depth ethnographic material to engage in a discussion about masculine subjectivity in contemporary Indonesia. Their narratives of dreams, entrepreneurship, and setbacks elucidate the perception, sentiments, fears, and thoughts that animate social actors as they are caught in the process of gender construction, as they forge their sense of a masculine self and imagine their future as adult men. Furthermore and at another level of analysis, they shed light on “the subtle forms of power that saturate everyday life, through experiences of time, space and work” (Ortner 2005 , p. 46). The critical attempt to examine life and the life of the younger friends who still work on the sex market reveal the complexities of a world where autonomy and self-fulﬁ llment become illusory and where social actors struggle to make sense of their own life experience.

Note

1 . Bule literally means “white,” “Caucasian,” but is used in a broader sense to describe Western, and in some cases rich Asian tourists.

References

Alcano, M. C. (2011). Slaves of our own making. The fabrication of masculine identities between Java and Bali. Indonesia and the Malay World, 39 (115), 373–389. Barker, J. (2001). State of fear: Controlling the criminal contagion in Suharto’s New Order’. In B. Anderson (Ed.), Violence and the state in Suharto’s Indonesia (pp. 20–53). New York: Southeast Asia Program Publications, Cornell University. Beazley, H. (2003). The Construction and Protection of Individual and Collective Identities by Street Children and Youth in Indonesia. Children, Youth and Environments 13(1). Retrieved March 26, 2013, from http://colorado.edu/journals/cye . Biehl, J., Good, B., & Kleinman, A. (Eds.). (2007). Subjectivity: Ethnographic investigations . Berkeley: University of California Press. Blackwood, E. (2010). Falling into the Lesbi world . Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. Boellstorff, T. (2005). The gay archipelago: Sexuality and nation in Indonesia . Princeton: Princeton University Press. Bourdieu, P. (1986). The forms of capital. In J. G. Richardson (Ed.), Handbook of theory and research for the sociology of education (pp. 241–258). New York: Greenwood. DelVecchio Good, M.-J., Hyde, S. T., Pinto, S., & Good, B. J. (Eds.). (2008). Postcolonial disorders: Reﬂ ections on subjectivity in the contemporary world . Berkeley: University of California Press. Elmhirst, R. (2007). Tigers and gangsters: masculinities and feminised migration in Indonesia. Population, Space and Place, 13 , 225–238. Ford, M., & Lyons, L. (Eds.). (2012). Men and masculinities in Southeast Asia . New York: Routledge. Hirschman, A. O. (1995). A propensity to self-subversion. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Kristiansen, S. (2003). Violent youth groups in Indonesia: The case of Yogyakarta and Nusa Tenggara Barat. Sojourn, 18 (1), 110–138. Cannibals and Ghosts: Forms of Capital, Immobility… 245

Nilan, P. (2009). Contemporary masculinities and young men in Indonesia. Indonesia and the Malay World, 37 (109), 327–344. Nilan, P. (2010). The Gang, Violence and the Life Course for Indonesian Male Youth. Paper for XVII World Congress of Sociology (ISA -RC 34), Gothenburg, Sweden, 11–17 July 2010. Nilan, P. (2011). Young men and peer ﬁ ghting in solo, Indonesia. Men and Masculinities, 14 (4), 470–490. Nilan, P., Broom, A., Demartoto, A., Doron, A., Nayar, K. R., & Germov, J. (2008). Masculinities and violence in India and Indonesia. Identifying themes and constructs for research. Journal of Health and Development, 4 (1–4), 209–228. Noszlopy, L. (2005). Bazar, big kites and other boys’ things: Distinctions of gender and tradition in Balinese youth culture. Australian Journal of Anthropology, 16 (2), 79–197. Oetomo, D. (2000). Masculinity in Indonesia: Genders, sexualities and identities in a changing society. In R. Parker, R. Barbosa, & P. Aggleton (Eds.), Framing the sexual subject: The politics of gender, sexuality and power (pp. 46–59). Berkeley: University of California Press. Ortner, S. B. (2005). Subjectivity and cultural critique. Anthropological Theory, 5 (1), 31–52. Wacquant, L. (1995). Pugs at work: Bodily capital and bodily labour among professional boxers. Body and Society, 1 (1), 65–93. Transgender Identity and Acceptance in a Global Era: The Muxes of Juchitán

Alfredo Mirandé

This chapter reports on a preliminary study of los muxes or mushes 1 (pronounced “Moo-shey”) of Juchitán, a city in El Istmo de Tehuantepec in the state of Oaxaca, Mexico, which has been described as “the most purely indigenous community in Mexico” (Keller 2007 , p. 2). The muxes are a unique group of indigenous men who openly dress in female Zapotec attire, assume traditional female roles, and are widely accepted by the community. 2 They have been described as a third sex (Bennholdt-Thomsen 1997 , p. 283), analogous to the institutionalized homosexuality found among some Native American groups (Whitehead 1981 ; Williams 1986 ). While the muxes appear to lack the religious signifi cance associated with the berdaches among Indian tribes, they may have had such signifi cance in former times (Chiñas 2002, p. 109; Lacey 2008 ; Williams 1986 , p. 135). Mexican society has often been depicted as male dominated and driven by the cult of machismo, patriarchy, and excessive masculinity and as intolerant of homosexuality (Mirandé 1997 ; Gutmann 1996 ), but in Juchitán the muxes appear to be not only tolerated but also accepted and in some instances admired. 3 Focusing on the “coming out” process, the construction of identity, the negotiation of power, dealing with trauma, sexuality, and the degree of societal acceptance of same sex relations and transgender identity, this chapter examines how masculinity is constructed, manifested, and embodied among the muxes of Juchitán. It also looks at identity formation and interiority. The fi ndings are based on preliminary fi eld research where the author attended Muxe Velas or festivals and other events, was a participant observer, and conducted interviews with members of the local muxe organization, Las Auténticas Intrépidas Buscadoras del Peligro (“The Real and Authentic Seekers of Danger”).

A. Mirandé (*) Department of Sociology, University of California, Riverside, 900 University Avenue, Riverside, CA 92506, USA e-mail: [email protected]

J. Gelfer (ed.), Masculinities in a Global Era, International and Cultural Psychology 4, 247 DOI 10.1007/978-1-4614-6931-5_14, © Springer Science+Business Media New York 2014 248 A. Mirandé

Two-Spirit Identity Among Indigenous Communities of North America

Acceptance of same sex social and sexual relations has been widely reported among North American Indian communities. In looking at same sex relations cross- culturally, it is important to distinguish between behaviors that are institutionally and normatively accepted and those that may occur spontaneously but are not accepted, for “cultural processes (and psychological ones as well) operate in quite different fashion in behaviors that are formally instituted as opposed to those that are spontaneously expressed” (Whitehead 1981 , pp. 81–82). Although data on spontaneous same sex expression is limited, what is clear is that the rate of its expression appears to be independent of its societal acceptance and may be high in places where it is condemned as in the United States or low where it is accepted, as among the Trobriand Islanders (Whitehead 1981 , p. 81). Societal acceptance, in turn, will undoubtedly infl uence identity, self-esteem, and interiority. In contrast to the New Guinea belief that “manhood” is contained in semen so that a boy was to become a man through sexual intercourse with older men (Herdt 1986), among many indigenous groups of North America, it was possible for a man to become in socially important respects a woman. Male to female cross-gendering, which generally took the form of biological males dressing as women and assuming the tasks of women, has been much more prevalent than female to male cross- gender transitions and was frequently reported by early travelers and missionaries and anthropologists (Whitehead 1981 , p. 85; Katz 1976, p. 29). 4 Gender-crossing consisted of the practice of the person of one “anatomic sex assuming part or most of the attire, occupation, and social-including marital-status, of the opposite sex for an indeterminate period” (Whitehead 1981 , p. 85). The most common way of transitioning into this role was by exhibiting behavior or characteristics of the opposite sex at an early age. In addition, gender-crossing behaviors might be indicated by dreams or visions. Less common was the practice of a person being taken captive and being integrated into the household of a captor and assuming the status of “wife” socially and sexually (Whitehead 1981 , p. 86). Callender and Kochems ( 1986 ) make an important analytical distinction between two gender levels, gender category and gender status . Although culturally constructed, gender category designates the biologically identifi ed classes consisting of males and females; gender status, on the other hand, is less directly tied to anatomical differences. At the gender category level one can be classifi ed as “not-male” without necessarily being classifi ed as female (Callender and Kochems 1986 , p. 166). The position of the male berdache was not an attempt by males to achieve social recognition as females, since this was impossible, but rather they “were assigned to a particular gender status designated by a special label” (Callender and Kochems 1986 , p. 166). These “not-men” assumed a gender-mixing status that combined attributes of men and women and differentiated them from women as well as from men. Although berdaches were generally recognized as biological males, they became women in a social sense, assuming the dress and the work of women, preferring the Transgender Identity and Acceptance in a Global Era: The Muxes of Juchitán 249 tools of the female trades (Callender and Kochems 1986 , pp. 169–171), donning women’s clothes and assuming female duties like basket weaving or acorn pound- ing (Kroeber 1925 , p. 46; Fletcher and LaFlesche 1972 , p. 132), or spontaneously adopting female speech patterns (Whitehead 1981 , p. 88). Despite the tendency of Westerners to equate gender-crossing with gayness, there is no reason to believe that same sexual preference or same sex object choice behavior itself was used as a basis for reclassifying a person to the gender-crossing status. In fact, according to Whitehead, “in contradistinction to occupational and clothing choice, cross-sex erotic choice is never mentioned as one of the indicators of a budding berdache” ( 1981, p. 95). Callender and Kochems add that “not-men” limited sexual acts to partners belonging to other gender statuses, men or women, and that it was “intercourse with persons outside their status, rather than homosexual acts per se, that most consistently defi ned the sexual aspects of the gender- mixing status” ( 1986 , pp. 171–172). Because the cross-gendering person was anatomically a man and socially a woman, many American Indian groups saw the berdache as a mixed creature, as a “man-woman” or part-man and part-woman or a third sex (Whitehead 1981 , p. 88). Not surprisingly, the berdache often assumed specifi c roles with specialized duties and were also imbued with special powers, since they could assume the tasks of men or women. Among the Yokuts, berdaches were corpse handlers, whereas among other groups they tended to the ill and carried provisions for war parties (Whitehead 1981 , p. 89). In the 1980s the so-called Anthropology of the Berdache was targeted by GLBTQ people in North America as gay and lesbian indigenous anthropologists sought to “displace colonial knowledge by making Native knowledge the methodological ground of research by and for Native peoples” (Morgensen 2011 , p. 139). The emergence of “Two-Spirit Identity” represented a critique of the Anthropology of the Berdache and of Western notions of gender and sexuality (Driskill et al. 2011, p. 11). Will Roscoe’s book (1991 ), The Zuni Man-Woman , came in response to the Anthropology of the Berdache and sought to focus on indigenous cultural perspective by arguing that the Zuni Llhamana represented a third gender status which was “less about sexual identity and more about the cultural categories of indigenous communities” (Driskill et al. 2011 , p. 12). The term “Two-Spirit” or “Two-Spirited” is an English term that refers to gender constructions and roles that occur in many native or indigenous communities that are outside the Western gender binary, and to Native people who are now reclaiming and redefi ning these roles within their respective communities (Driskill et al. 2011 , p. 4).

Mexicano/Latino Conﬁ gurations of Gay Identity and Behavior

Although the practice of a person becoming a berdache after being taken captive and assuming the status of wife appears to have been uncommon (Whitehead 1981 , p. 86), some writers have proposed an important link between sex and conquest. Trexler, for 250 A. Mirandé example, notes that all discourse about sexuality and gender is ultimately about hierarchy, dominion, and subordination and that “sexuality defi nes gender, a discourse that is about power relations” (1995 , p. 2). This may apply in assessing the descriptions of the sexual practices of native peoples provided by the Spaniards, since the Iberians were conquerors and their descriptions of native practices were unquestionably discourses about power more than they were about indigenous sexual practices (Trexler 1995 , p. 2). Western anthropological descriptions of American Indian practices must be looked at critically, so must European accounts of indigenous sexual practices be interpreted with caution, given that “the Iberians who are our primary informers often stood to gain by accusing them [the Indians] of sodomy” (Trexler 1995 , p. 2). Spanish reports of native sexual practices were replete with accounts of homosexual behavior, sodomy, and as “This ‘nefarious,’ ‘unmentionable’ and ‘abominable sin,’” which was said to be “against nature” (Trexler 1995 , p. 1). Gendering enemies as female or effeminate was also used to justify the right to conquer the natives, for if they were seen as sodomites who engaged in that abominable sin, they were in need of salvation. Once the Iberians demonstrated that the Indians practiced sodomy, they were justifi ed in conquering them (Trexler 1995, p. 1). The tendency to gender warfare and confl ict among men is also refl ected in contemporary ethnographic studies of sexual relations among Latino men. Noting the absence of research on Latino same sex identity and behavior, Tomás Almaguer has noted that Chicano men must negotiate a modern American gay identity with Mexicano -Latino confi gurations of same sex identity and behavior (2001 , p. 415). Almaguer develops a perspective on Latino gay men by drawing on insightful narratives of Chicana lesbians like Cherrie Moraga and perceptive studies in Mexico and Latino America carried out by anthropologists such as Joseph M. Carrier, Roger N. Lancaster, Richard Parker, Barry D. Adam, and Clark L. Taylor who have pointed to the inapplicability of Western European and American categories of sexual meaning for understanding sexuality in Latino America (2001 , p. 416). According to Clark L. Taylor (1986 ), sexual roles in Mexico are divided into two basic categories—pasivos and activos (p. 119). Pasivos (passives) are those who are “insertees” or have the penis of another man inserted into one of their orifi ces, usually the anus, whereas activos (actives) are inserters who place their penises into the orifi ce of another person. There is also a third, less common role, which are the internacionales (internationals) who are deemed to be somewhat “foreign” because they take on both of these roles. Peter Fry (1986 ) and Richard Parker (1986 ) have examined sexuality among men in Brazil and identifi ed two basic roles, the bicha and the macho or homem (Fry 1986, p. 141). Although both terms refer to biological males, in sexual encounters the bicha assumes the female or “insertee” role while the homem assumes the “inserter” role (Fry 1986 , p. 141). The homem , or real man, metaphorically “eats” the bicha while the latter, in turn, “gives.” The same terms are used to describe heterosexual relations as the male is viewed as giving and the female is seen as receiving. The homem/bicha relationship is one of power and dominance. Bichas are seen as efeminadas, or effeminate as many assume traditional female roles and female pseudonyms or screen names (Fry 1986 , p. 142). The bichas and male Transgender Identity and Acceptance in a Global Era: The Muxes of Juchitán 251 homosexuality are associated with people on the margins of society and with Afro- Brazilian possession cults in Belém de Pará. 5 According to this line of research, in the contemporary United States sexual categories and personages are determined by sexual preference or object choice, so that same sex is viewed as homosexual and opposite as heterosexual, whereas those who have sex with both sexes are categorized as bisexual (Almaguer 2001 , p. 416). This categorization has resulted in the prohibition of all same sex behavior, although instances of same sex contact are said to be common. The Latino system is clearly different and more complex. While the contemporary bourgeois sexual system is divided into discrete sexual categories, the Mexican/Latino sexual system is not defi ned by object choice but rather by the power exerted in the sexual relationship. According to this view, Mexican and Latino men are able to engage in sex with other men without impugning their masculinity, as long they retain the dominant, activo or inserter position in the sexual act. Gay and straight status are thus determined not by object choice but by the respective power of the participants. A person is considered a maricón (homosexual), a joto (“queer”), or a puto (“fag”), only if he assumes the passive, insertee role in the sexual act (Almaguer 2001 , p. 417). Not only is the active partner not stigmatized but he may be recognized as muy macho . Another important difference in the way that gay sexuality is manifested in Latino America as compared to the United States is in the location of sexual activity. While an overt gay world is common in large cities in the United States, which generally have gay enclaves or gay communities, same sex activity and interaction generally takes place in heterogeneous public locales in Mexico and Latino America (Taylor 1986, p. 117). It is in this sense, that same sex relations are much more ghettoized in the United States.

Los Muxes: A Third Sex Status

Despite its openness toward muxes, Juchitán maintains traditional patterns of marriage and courtship (Henestrosa 1993 , p. 130). Noviazgo (“courtship”) is traditional and virginity is still expected before marriage and “the daughter’s behavior is mainly the mother’s responsibility” (Chiñas 2002 , p. 51). Because value is placed on female virginity and premarital sexual intercourse is frowned upon, it is muxes who reportedly often introduce young men to sex. Cristal, for example, a 50- something muxe , is well known and sought out in the community as one who initiates young men into sex (Bennholdt-Thomsen 1997 , p. 289). Another distinguishing characteristic of muxes is that their sexual partners are heterosexual men rather than other muxes or gay men, and consistent with the Latino sexual system described by Almaguer and others, their partners are considered “men” because they assume a dominant position in sexual intercourse. Juan, a 31-year-old muxe also known as “la rubia” or the blond girl, explained “that only one member of a couple is considered a muxe , the other is clearly and openly a man” (Bennholdt- Thomsen 1997 , p. 284). 252 A. Mirandé

The muxe , like the Zuni “man-woman,” is a person who is biologically male but who also displays female characteristics such as dressing in the traditional Zapotec female attire, wearing their hair in a ponytail, using makeup and jewelry, and taking on some of the characteristics of each gender. The muxes are an anomaly, given prevailing homophobic attitudes found in most of Mexico, because in the Isthmus they are offi cially recognized and accepted. Juchitecos are keenly aware and proud of this difference (Bennholdt-Thomsen 1997 , p. 279). Although muxes are distinguished from the general male population, they are neither devalued nor subject to discrimination (Chiñas 2002 , p. 108). Boys may be harassed occasionally or discriminated against by mestizo youth but Zapotec parents—especially mothers and women in general—readily defend them and their right to “be themselves.” The prevailing view is that one does not choose to be but is born muxe because “God made them that way” (Chiñas 2002 , p. 109). When asked whether they identify as men or women, muxes invariably respond that they are not one or the other, that they are muxes (Bennholdt-Thomsen 1997 , p. 303). Their separate gender status is reinforced by the fact that work in Juchitán is clearly gendered, as it is among most North American Indian groups. A precondition for muxe identifi cation with certain jobs, then, is the existence of a clear sexual division of labor. Under these conditions, there are intermediate positions that can be best carried out by a third sex status (Bennholdt-Thomsen 1997 , p. 303). One job that is defi ned as muxe work is the production of paper ornaments for large fi estas and Velas , or community festivals. Artistic work is typically defi ned as men’s work but the fi estas are left to the women. Lighter things like music, poetry, and art are the concern of men, whereas women’s work is always linked to subsistence as women have to do heavy, hard work. The models for embroidery are also frequently designed by muxes (Bennholdt-Thomsen 1997 , p. 303). Some muxes own bars and sell liquor, work that is often associated with women. Proprietors of such establishments are considered to be sexually erotic 6 and this is consistent with the societal image of muxes . Whether one is viewed as muxe is determined not only by the type of work the person does but also by their attire, sexuality, and sexual identity (Bennholdt-Thomsen 1997 , p. 304). Muxes are thought to be highly intelligent and artistic and their work is believed to be done even more artistically and carefully than when it is done by women (Chiñas 2002 , p. 109). Some muxes also carry out traditional male jobs, such as making silver and gold jewelry. Given its matrifocal emphasis, it is perhaps not surprising that the birth of a girl is celebrated in Juchitán. Marina Meneses Velásquez describes how after the birth of a daughter, Rosita, a 78-year-old family friend and expert in raising children and assisting in the delivery of babies, told the mother, “It’s great that it’s a girl, now you have someone who will take you by the hand when you are not able to walk” (Velázquez 1997, p. 99). The birth of a boy, on the other hand, is more problematic and can lead the older women to feel sorry for the mother, “A bachelor was born, you are going to have to get him married,” referring to how diffi cult and costly the wedding of a boy is for a mother. Most parents are also not embarrassed or burdened by having a son who is muxe . On the contrary, to have a muxe son is a blessing because they generally do not abandon the home and stay to help their parents (Gaycolectivo 2009 ). Transgender Identity and Acceptance in a Global Era: The Muxes of Juchitán 253

Acceptance of the muxes is such that it is misleading and condescending to say that they are “tolerated,” which implies token and reluctant acceptance. After attending a Vela, or festival in Juchitán, anthropologist Bennholdt-Thomsen was surprised that the host or mayordomo (patron) of the Vela was a muxe and that he was accorded great respect and admiration. Attired in a white shirt, well-fi tted black trousers, and fancy Italian shoes, the only thing that distinguished the host from other men in attendance were the massive gold jewels he wore around his neck, wrists, and fi ngers (Bennholdt-Thomsen 1997 , p. 280). Not all muxes cross- dress in traditional Zapotec attire with long skirts and huipiles ; some like the host of the Vela dress like heterosexual men, except for the jewelry around their necks and on their hands, or they may be distinguished from other men because they wear makeup, or have their hair in a ponytail. Because the market belongs to women, a man who dedicates himself to working in the market is defi ned as a muxe and only then is he accepted by the female merchants (Bennholdt-Thomsen 1997 , p. 281). Since women are known as hard workers, a quality recognized and praised by men, when a man works hard, it is said that he “works like a woman” (Bennholdt-Thomsen 1997 , p. 281). In addition to being hardworking, muxes are believed to be the brightest and most gifted children (Chiñas 2002 , p. 109). Parents generally consider them as the most likely to get educated but they will only be supported beyond the sixth grade if they demonstrate superior intellectual ability because of the cost of pursuing higher education. Muxes appear to place great pride in the fact that they are socially accepted in the society. When interviewed, Juan (“la rubia”) noted repeatedly that “Everyone respects me, my neighbors appreciate me, they value me, they like me, well, they like me as I am” (Bennholdt-Thomsen 1997 , p. 282). As to his sexuality, Juan notes that he was born that way and that by the age of 10 he was already fl irting with the boys, adding “I live happily the way I am because no one in my family chastises me, no one humiliates me; they accept me as I am” (Bennholdt-Thomsen 1997 , p. 283).

Coming Out, Identity, Power, and Trauma

Despite the general acceptance of muxes in Juchitán, many still encounter trauma and experience rejection before being fully accepted. Juan only attended the fi rst grade and relates how the fi rst grade teacher wanted the children to do some manual work and asked the boys to have their families buy brushes and frames to paint and the girls to get materials so they could embroider. But Juan asked his mother to buy him an aro (wooden hoop) to embroider napkins. When he showed up at school the next day, the teacher said, “That work is not for you. ‘It’s for girls’” (Bennholdt- Thomsen 1997 , p. 284). Juan told the teacher that he could not do the work he was asked to do and that if he couldn’t do the work that he wanted, he would leave. And so he left school and continued embroidering. Cristal, recognized as an important embroidery artist in the community, commented that in the past it was more diffi cult to “come out.” Cristal’s mother, for 254 A. Mirandé example, beat him regularly and his place as a muxe was not assured until he was 20 because his parents punished and ridiculed him in public. Today he notes that in the past it was more diffi cult for them to dress like women or use makeup while today you can do both without any problems (Bennholdt-Thomsen 1997 , pp. 286–287). Bennholdt-Thompsen describes a “coming out” or initiation ritual in which authoritarian parents used corporal punishment as a test to determine whether their sons were really muxes . If the child persisted in his effeminate behavior in the face of habitual corporal punishment, it affi rmed the child’s natural predisposition to be a muxe and led to his acceptance by the family and the community. On the other hand, the muxes themselves often interpreted their resistance and persistence as evidence that they were born with different characteristics, as all muxes are proud to defend their “birthright” to be different in the face of all kinds of attack and adversi- ties (Bennholdt-Thomsen 1997, p. 288). Because muxes identify with women, they are attracted to and prefer to be with straight men, although there are men who never live with a woman and are involved in serial relations with a variety of muxes . Interestingly, these men do not defi ne themselves as either muxes or as gay. Juan, for example, does not approve of a man who has come out as a muxe pairing up with a woman or that two muxes live together (Bennholdt-Thomsen 1997 , p. 285). Juan was also personally opposed to living in a permanent relationship with a man because the muxe is the one who has to work to support the man (Bennholdt- Thomsen 1997 , p. 285). He felt that a man would restrict him too much and that he would not be able to go out dancing and partying with friends if he was in a relationship with a man (Bennholdt-Thomsen 1997 , p. 285). There are some men who are married, have children, and who still defi ne themselves and are recognized by others as muxes , not so much because of their sexuality but because they like to wear makeup and jewelry and to dress in traditional Zapotec attire. One of the muxes mentioned that she knew a man in his 50s who was married, had children, but would go out as a muxe , and reportedly took more time to get dressed and put on his makeup than his wife. This was the subject of a great deal of good-natured kidding and joking (Bennholdt-Thomsen 1997 , pp. 285–286). One of the reasons that some muxes do not dress like women or wear traditional Zapotec attire is because they work in traditional male occupations. Mandy, for example, one of the founders of the muxe organization that I met during my fi eld research in Juchitán wears some makeup but otherwise dresses like a traditional man. When I inquired about this, he responded that he cannot dress like a muxe because of his job, as he works for the government in a traditional occupation where he deals with the public and it would not be possible for him to overtly dress like a muxe , given the nature of his work. Enrique, a 24-year-old muxe I interviewed, was in politics and an elected public offi cial in a nearby municipality and did not dress in traditional female Zapotec attire. I met him at a Muxe Vela in Juchitán. Each muxe has their own section or puesto at the Vela , where they serve food and refreshments to their invited guests. I was sitting in Mistica ’ s puesto , a very well-known muxe and successful entrepre- neur who had been Queen of the Vela the previous year when I was introduced to Enrique by Felixa, a local teacher and muxe that I had previously interviewed. Transgender Identity and Acceptance in a Global Era: The Muxes of Juchitán 255

Enrique is a large heavyset man who is of average height but is built like an American football player. He has short hair, uses a little bit of makeup, and does his eyes but is not particularly effeminate. If you did not look very carefully and did not notice the makeup, he could easily be mistaken for an ordinary heterosexual man. He said that life was diffi cult and his eyes got glassy as he told his story. Enrique is not like the other muxes because he is bisexual and has known that he was that way since he was around ten years old. 7 At an early age he knew that he had a thing for boys and liked to play and dress up with his sisters. He has always been the same way, through elementary school and high school, although he was also attracted to girls. His mother knows; his father, who is very traditional, suspects but does not ask because he is afraid to fi nd out. His family knows that he takes time in the bathroom fi xing himself up, putting on a little bit of makeup, and fi xing his eyes, but they do not say anything. Enrique was wearing black pants and a white guayabera and the only distinguishing trait, other than the light makeup, was that he wore a large gold medallion around his neck. He said that he has never ever dressed like a woman and is attracted to both sexes. Enrique admitted that dressing up was a fantasy and he has thought about dressing up like a woman but he cannot do it because of his work. The elections are coming up shortly and he has to be very careful because any kind of negative publicity would be used against him politically. He speculated on what would happen if a picture of him in drag were to be made public and concluded it would be political suicide. Enrique subsequently invited me to a fair which was being held in his hometown near Juchitán. It was a traditional Mexican fair with charros, a rodeo, games, and a lot of food and drinking. As we walked across the town square and entered the fair- grounds, I was impressed with the number of people that he knew, as we were warmly greeted by a large number of people. Town residents clearly knew and respected Enrique but it was clear that his outward demeanor was that of an ordinary heterosexual man. Enrique was married and has a 2-year-old son but is now divorced. He was can- did with his wife and told her about his bisexuality but the marriage just did not work out. He seemed very sad and kept saying how diffi cult life was for someone who is bisexual. “Es muy, muy difi cil” (“It’s very, very diffi cult”). He acknowledged that there have been several incidents of violence against muxes , particularly at the large truck crossing on the outskirts of Juchitán where some go looking for sex but said that it was rare. He believes that there are muxes que no respetan (“who are not respectful”) and they have problems but he did not seem to see this as a major problem. In fact, he said there was pretty much total acceptance of muxes in Juchitán. As an example of muxes who were not respectful, he related an incident late in the morning at the tail end of the Vela when he we went to the bathroom. It was about 6 in the morning and the security had gone home and there was a group of six or seven muxes who were performing oral sex outside the porta-potties. He said in disgust that several of them had yelled out “come and have a taste,” inviting him to join the orgy but he thought that having sex in public like that was really inappropriate and disrespectful and gave muxes a bad name. 256 A. Mirandé

Felixa is a 40-something man who teaches third grade at a nearby town and also does not dress in the traditional Zapotec attire. I met Felixa at Felina’s Beauty Salon, a popular gathering place for muxes . Salina was the muxe queen in the mid- 1990s and the outgoing President of the muxe organization, and I had interviewed her on a previous visit to Juchitán. Felixa is clean-cut and explained that he cannot dress like a muxe because he is a teacher. On the other hand, he told me that all of his students know that he is a muxe and that they still accept and respect him. I met Felixa at Felina’s Beauty Salon the night before the large Muxe Vela . A crowd was waiting for the parade, which is called La Tirada de Frutas . Traditionally, women would throw fruit from the back of trucks but now they throw candy or presents for the children. We made arrangements to meet at the bus station the next day between 3:00 and 3:30 p.m. He was going to a birthday party for his aunt and would pick me up at the bus depot. As it turned out Felixa did not have a car, so we went across the street and took a coperativo to another part of town where there were second-class busses to Ciudad Hidalgo. The trip took about 40 min. When we arrived we took a little motorized taxi to the house where the party was being held. It was a nice Oaxacan party and it reminded me a lot of the Muxe Vela in the sense that people were sitting on plastic lawn chairs with the men on one side and the women at another. There was a live band and some dancing. Many of the women were dancing together but I only saw one older couple dancing. The party was for his aunt who was celebrating her 75th birthday. The women were dressed in their traditional Isthmus attire but the men were dressed casually. As in the Vela , the practice was to buy a case of beer outside the party and to take in to the host. Felixa said she had problems with her back and could not lift anything and asked whether I would carry the case of beer. The host, Felixa’s uncle, stood up and graciously accepted the beer as I carried it and handed it to him. We only stayed for about an hour at the party. Felixa said she que tenía que cumplir porque era una ogligación (“had to meet her obligation”). Felixa sat and visited with people for awhile and did not mix much, except when we came and when we left. I felt like the women were starring at us when we came in. I do not know if it is because he is muxe or because I was a stranger and not Zapoteco . Felixa became aware that he was gay or attracted to boys when he was around 10 years old. He liked to play with his sisters and felt that he was always attracted to boys and believed he was born that way. His family has always accepted the way he is. And he lived with his parents until they died. Felixa said that he buried both of them and now lives in the house where he grew up. He lives in a city of about 30,000 about 30 min from Juchitán. Felixa’s fi rst sexual experience was when he was 17 with a neighbor boy who was straight. I asked him who initiated the relationship and he said that the neighbor boy did. He has always been the same and has been accepted. He had novios in high school and in college but they were always straight. They don’t call them straight men but simply “men.” He likes being in a stable relationship and was in one until about a year ago. They were together for about 5 years and the boy was only 15 when they started. I asked whether one person or another was dominant and he said no. Some muxes have Transgender Identity and Acceptance in a Global Era: The Muxes of Juchitán 257 problems because they want to control their partners but he did not do that and he allowed his partners to go out with women. Felixa does not like to dress like a woman because of his job and at the Vela he told me that he did not like it when muxes dressed in a way that was really provocative or outlandish. There was a muxe , for example, with a white mesh see- through dress who was wearing a black thong at the Vela , and it was gross because you could tell it was a man. Another was wearing a Brazilian carnival outfi t with wings and very short shorts. A couple of other muxes with very short skirts came by Mistica’s puesto where I was sitting with Felixa and he said that he did not like that because it was vulgar. When I asked about violence against muxes , Felixa blamed the muxes themselves. He said that some of them do not know how to behave and they disrespect people and themselves. He gave the example of muxes who go to the crusero or truck crossing where a lot of truckers hang out. They go out looking for sex and the men sometimes think that they are with a woman, so they get angry when they fi nd out they were with a man. Felixa was neatly dressed with a light green guayabera and dark green slacks. He had mousse in his spiked hair and looked well groomed. He was a bit effeminate but not in an extreme way. He reminded me of my tío Quintos who lived in Mexico City who was gay, very neat, and an immaculate dresser. Felixa has been involved with the muxe organization for about 20 years.

Conclusion

The fi ndings of this study are consistent with a rapidly emerging body of research, which points to a wide range and variety of masculinities not only historically and globally but within particular societies and regions. Mexico, for example, was traditionally described as a macho-dominated society and the state of Jalisco in particular was viewed as “the cradle of machismo” (Terrazas 2007 ), but this monolithic view has been challenged by recent research that suggests that there is not one but a wide range and varieties of Mexican masculinities. Robert Smith defi ned masculinidad ranchera (“ranchero masculinity”) as “one hegemonic confi guration of gender practices that legitimize men’s dominant and women’s subordinate position” (2006 , p. 96) but found that such traditional conceptions of masculinity are being challenged and undermined. In a study of two communities in Los Altos de Jalisco, Jennifer Hirsch (2003 , p. 112) similarly contrasts the traditional “masculinidad ranchera,” which emphasized respect, particularly respect and deference to the man, with the newly emerging “companionate” model of intimate relationships. While not all young couples subscribe to the new companionate model, she found that younger couples were turning more and more toward marital relationships that emphasized “confi anza” rather than “respeto” (2003 , p. 112). Most couples acknowledged that in the past women were very submissive and “expected the husbands to be the arbiter of when they could leave the house, what 258 A. Mirandé they could wear, when they could have sex” and that he even had the right to hit her if she gave him reason to by answering back ( 2003, p. 115). But this is all changing for the younger generation and daughters are trying to negotiate a different kind of relationship with their husbands. While the traditional “masculinidad ranchera” also tended to be intolerant of gay and transgender persons, especially in rural areas where homosexuality is considered a sin (Lacey 2008 ), Mexico City has legalized same sex unions, and its Zona Rosa is a tourist attraction known not only for the prevalence of fi ne restaurants and upscale shops but for tolerance of gay people and alternative lifestyles. The fi nding of this and other studies also point to El Istmo de Tehuantepec as a region where traditional machismo is less prevalent and where muxes are tolerated and accepted and recognized as a third sex status or what is often described as “hombres mujeres” (“male women”). Although called the “The City of Women” and known for its strong women and gender equity, Juchitán is not a matriarchal society but a matrifocal family system in the sense that women are able to retain a great deal of power and autonomy economically, socially, and in the kinship system (Chiñas 2002 , p. 85). Because women assume the role of merchants and traders in the market, they control familial resources and are recognized as economic heads of households. While the origin of the muxe is unclear, it is unlikely that it originated with the taking of prisoners in warfare as is the case with the military berdache . Acceptance of cross-gendered persons can be traced to pre-Colombian Mexico, as anthropologists have pointed to instances of cross-dressing Aztec priests and Mayan and Aztec deities who were at once male and female (Lacey 2008). Coatlicue, for example, was Earth Goddess of Life and Death in Aztec religion and mythology and had both male and female elements. Ironically, acceptance of the muxes as a third gender status appears to be facilitated by a sharp division of sex roles and the prevalence of gender equity in Juchitán. Because of the sharp sexual division of labor, there are occupations that are in- between, are not assigned to one sex or the other, and are recognized as the work of muxes . Women assume the more arduous and physically demanding jobs and their work is greatly valued. Although certain jobs are reserved for muxes , they are represented in virtually all walks of life. Muxes and members of the community believe that rather than being a voluntary choice one is born a muxe . The grandmother of Carmelo, a 15-year-old muxe who reigned as the Queen of the Muxe Vela several years ago, commented that “it is how God sent him” and this appears to be the prevailing view (Lacey 2008 ). Since being muxe is seen as an immutable characteristic, like the Navajo, 8 people in Juchitán distinguish between those who are genuine muxes and those who are inauthentic and simply cross-dress or mimic the muxe lifestyle. One of the muxes , Biinitza, for example, noted that there were only a handful of muxes among the hundreds of transvestite men who were in attendance at a Vela that took place in the city of Oaxaca. She saw them, not as muxes but as gay men in drag. The idea that some transvestite men who dress and act like women are seen as imposters or pretenders while others are authentic is intriguing because it conjures ups images of someone “impersonating” a man impersonating a woman and reinforces the socially Transgender Identity and Acceptance in a Global Era: The Muxes of Juchitán 259 constructed idea that muxes constitute a distinct third gender status in Juchitán and are not simply “transvestites in drag.” It also reinforces the view that being muxe is a lifestyle that cuts across all aspects of one’s life and extends beyond how one looks, dresses, acts, or even one’s sexual orientation. Perhaps it is for this reason that not all muxes cross-dress and that one can cross-dress without being muxe . Being muxe thus refers to one’s overall gender status, a status which transcends external superfi cial markings like one’s dress or appearance and refers to a deeper identity. The name of the major muxe organization, “The Authentic Intrepid Seekers of Danger,” is signifi cant because it captures several things about the organization and the identity of its members. First, it connotes that the members of the muxe organization are audacious or fearless seekers of danger. Second, it identifi es members as the “authentic,” “true,” or genuine muxes and not imposters or pretenders. It is clear that the muxes are not only accepted but that they are very well integrated into the community, not only socially and culturally but politically and even within the Church. On the eve of the Muxe Vela there was a performance in front of the city municipal building. The event was hosted and organized by the muxes . Some of the issues addressed during the program were the prevention of domestic violence, birth control, and AIDS education. I learned that the group works with youth in the community on these issues and they put on a skit with the youth focusing on the issues of birth control, domestic violence, and AIDS education. The muxes are also accepted within the Catholic Church. On the morning of the Vela , there was a mass given in honor of the Auténticas Intrépidas Buscadoras del Peligro . The Intrépidas marched in a procession with their standard and they were recognized and blessed by the priest. I also had the opportunity to interview the local priest and it was clear that he welcomed the muxes into the Church, although he cautioned that sodomy itself was forbidden and made reference to the third book of the Bible, Leviticus, during our conversation and cautioned that sodomy was not condoned. There is a sense in which the Muxe Vela is a community event, given that most of the people in attendance were not muxes but friends and family of the members of the organization and represented a cross section of Juchitán society. The Vela was a festival sponsored by the muxes for the community at large. In fact, the Muxe Queen was crowned by the mayor of Juchitán. The muxes were also recognized as an organization by the Church and supported by the PRI, the dominant political party. I found this integration to be true across social, economic, political, and religious aspects of the community. The treatment of muxes in Juchitán stands in sharp contrast with the treatment of gay people in many other parts of Mexico and in the United States. People were shocked recently, for example, by the “vicious” hatred that apparently caused a New York City street gang’s alleged beating and torture of three gay men in New Haven, Connecticut (New Haven Register 2010). The violence according to police included sodomizing one of the men with a plunger handle and hours of long torture of others. The attacks occurred amid increased attention to antigay bullying following a series 260 A. Mirandé of teen suicides around the country attributed to gay bullying the previous month (New Haven Register 2010). It should be noted that most of the suspects were Latino. The New Haven attack took place in a neighborhood were residents say homosexuality is common and tolerated. Ironically, the prevalence of gay neighborhoods or gay-friendly communities in the United States may work to promote rather than to discourage attacks against gay people, bisexuals, and transgender people because it ghettoizes homosexuality and enables some people to go into such areas seeking to fi nd and to victimize them. Tolerance and acceptance of LGBTQ people needs to, occur across the community at large, as it does in Juchitán, not simply in designated safe zones, for as the past President of the Intrépidas , Felina, mentioned during an interview, “you are not going to fi nd gay bars or a gay section of the city because the muxes are well integrated into the entire community.” Gay advocates were similarly recently outraged by yet another instance of bullying against gay, bisexual, or transgender students, as a vicious attack by an Ohio student who waited in the classroom to assault a 15-year-old gay classmate was captured by a bystander on a cell phone (Donaldson 2011 ). While the student mercilessly attacked the gay student on the fl oor, other students watched and nobody did anything. The perpetrator was suspended for 3 days and has not been criminally charged in the case ( Donaldson James 2001). The boy’s mother said, “Just for all the people out there who have hate in their heart—they need to let it go … People are going to be who they are” (Donaldson 2011 ). The fi ndings of this study have important policy implications not only for the study of masculinity in a global era but for the treatment of LGBTQ people. With increased concern with harassment, gay bashing, and bullying of gay and effeminate youth in the United States, it seems that much could be learned from the treatment and acceptance of the muxes in a place like Juchitán and in the Isthmus of Tehuantepec as a whole. For example, because people in Juchitán are not generally homophobic, they are not opposed to having the muxes take an active part in working with local youth addressing issues such as domestic violence, birth control, and AIDS education. The prevalence of homophobia in the United States makes the idea of gay people working with youth problematic, particularly if you consider things like the refusal of the Boy Scouts of America, the largest youth membership in the country, to admit homosexuals into the organization in membership or supervisory positions. 9 Acceptance of LGBTQ identity has to cut across society and cannot be ghettoized or confi ned to gay areas or gay-friendly sections of a city. Rather than occur- ring in gay bars or clubs, the “coming out” process in Juchitán starts in the family when parents and other family members begin to recognize and accept the fact that their son is different, effeminate, and is more inclined to pursue feminine arts and crafts like embroidering than traditional male endeavors. Once the boy is accepted by the family and is ready to dress like a girl in public, he begins to cross-dress and to appear at Velas and is eventually recognized and accepted as a muxe by other muxes and society at large. Also, if bullying and gay bashing were problems in the community, the muxes would be at the forefront of efforts to educate people and to Transgender Identity and Acceptance in a Global Era: The Muxes of Juchitán 261 combat such abuse. However, because of the general acceptance of muxes they are free to focus their efforts on other political and social issues in the community. Carmelo, a 15-year-old youth who reigned as Queen during the Muxe Vela several years ago, may not have an idyllic life and future since he lives in a rural area in relative poverty, does not attend school, and makes his living by cleaning the houses of relatives and neighbors, but he is accepted by his family and the community. Unlike Lawrence King who was mercilessly harassed by his peers and gunned down by a 14-year-old classmate (New York Times 2008) or other youth who are subjected to gay bashing and bullying, Carmelo does not need to worry about being harassed or bullied because of his lifestyle. In fact, he enjoys dressing as a girl and is looking forward to growing up living the life of a muxe . He even has role models and looks forward to becoming like “Mistica,” a popular and well-known muxe that he looks up to and is a reputable and respected busi- nesswoman in the community.

Notes

1 . Muxe is a Zapotec word derived from mujer, the Spanish word for woman. 2. There have been isolated incidents of violence against muxes. See Vélez Ascendio ( 2009 ) regarding the alleged murder of a muxe sex worker. 3. An earlier anthropological study estimated that approximately 6 % of the men in the Istmo de Tehuantepec were muxes (Rymph 1974) and there are also many gay men who are not identifi ed as muxe . 4. There is evidence that the berdaches were highly respected by Indian tribes (Greenberg 1986 , p. 180). 5. Parker notes, however, that traditional same sex roles have undergone signifi cant change with the development of the scientifi c or medical model of homosexuality which emerged during the late nineteenth and early twentieth century and the creation of three new categories of sexual thought in Brazil—heterosexual, bisexual, and homosexual (Parker 1986 , p. 158). 6 . Las Taberneras are women who sell beer, mezcal, and sodas in the open air. Especially at various feast days or important Velas , they set up a long wooden table and two benches in an out- door location, sit on a wooden box and sell refreshments to the public (Bennholdt-Thomsen 1997 , p. 181). 7. His bisexuality is consistent with the observation that the berdache status is defi ned not so much by same sex behavior as it is by the prohibition against sex with members of the same gender status (Callender and Kochems 1986 , pp. 171–172) so that one may have sex either with men or women but not with other muxes . 8. Among the Navajo, the term for gender-crossers is nadle , meaning changing or being transformed. The Navajo claimed that the “real” nadle was intersexed, while anatomically male, gender-crossers who were not hermaphrodites were seen as pretend nadle (Whitehead 1981 , pp. 89–90). 9. The right of the Boy Scouts as a private organization to restrict admission has consistently been upheld by the courts. 262 A. Mirandé

References

Almaguer, T. (2001). Chicano men: A cartography of homosexual identity and behavior. In M. S. Kimmel & M. A. Messner (Eds.), Men ’s lives (5th ed., pp. 415–428). Boston: Allyn and Bacon. Bennholdt-Thomsen, V. (1997). Las Taberneras. In V. Bennholdt-Thomsen (Ed.), Juchitán, la ciudad de las mujeres (pp. 181–197). Oaxaca: Instituto Oaxaqueño de Las Culturas. Callender, C., & Kochems, L. M. (1986). Men and not-men: Male gender-mixing statuses and homosexuality. In E. Blackwood (Ed.), The many faces of homosexuality: Anthropological approaches to homosexual behavior (pp. 165–178). New York: Harrington Press. Chiñas, B. N. (2002). The Isthmus Zapotecs: A matrifocal culture of Mexico. Mason: Cengage Learning. Driskill, Q.-L., Finley, C., Gilley, B. J., & Morgensen, S. L. (2011a). Queer Indigenous studies: Critical interventions in theory, politics, and literature. Tucson: The University of Arizona Press. Driskill, Q.-L., Justice, D. H., Miranda, D., & Tatonetti, L. (2011b). Sovereign erotics: A collection of two-spirit literature . Tucson: University of Arizona Press. Fletcher, A., & LaFlesche, F. (1972). The Omaha tribe . Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press. Fry, P. (1986). Male homosexuality and spirit possession in brazil. In E. Blackwood (Ed.), The many faces of homosexuality: Anthropological approaches to homosexual behavior (pp. 137– 153). New York: Harrington Press. Gaycolectivo (2009). Muxes (Mushes). http://gaycolectivo.blogspot.com/2009/02/muxes-mushes. html . Greenberg, D. F. (1986). Why was the berdache ridiculed? In E. Blackwood (Ed.), The many faces of homosexuality: Anthropological approaches to homosexual behavior (pp. 179–189). New York: Harrington Press. Gutmann, M. (1996). The meanings of macho: Being a man in Mexico city. Berkeley: University of California Press. Henestrosa, A. (1993). The forms of sexual life in Juchitán. In H. Campbell (Ed.), Zapotec struggles: Histories, politics, and representations from Juchitán, Oaxaca (pp. 129–131). Washington, DC: Smithsonian Institution. Herdt, G. H. (Ed.). (1986). Ritualized homosexuality in Melanesia. Berkeley: University of California Press. Hirsch, J. S. (2003). A courtship after marriage: Sexuality and love in Mexican transnational families . Berkeley: University of California Press. Katz, J. (1976). Gay American history: Lesbians and gay men in the U.S.A . New York: Crowell. Keller, J. (2007). Graciela Iturbide, Juchitán . Los Angeles: Getty. Kroeber, A. L. (1925). Handbook of the Indians of California. U.S. BAE Bulletin No. 78. Washington, DC, U.S. GPO. Lacey, M. (2008, December 6). A lifestyle distinct: The Muxe of Mexico. The New York Times . Mirandé, A. (1997). Hombres y machos: Masculinity and Latino culture . Boulder: Westview Press. Morgensen, S. L. (2011). Unsettling queer politics. In Q.-L. Driskill, C. Finley, B. J. Gilley, & S. L. Morgensen (Eds.), Queer Indigenous studies: Critical interventions in theory, politics, and literature (pp. 132–152). Tucson: The University of Arizona Press. New Haven Register. (2010, October 10). NYC leaders condemn “vicious” attack on 3 gays. New York Times. (2008, February 23). Boys killing, labeled a hate crime, stuns a town. Parker, R. (1986). Masculinity, femininity, and homosexuality: On the anthropological interpretation of sexual meanings in Brazil. In E. Blackwood (Ed.), The many faces of homosexuality: Anthropological approaches to homosexual behavior (pp. 155–163). New York: Harrington Press. Roscoe, W. (1991). The Zuni man-woman . Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press. Rymph, D. (1974). Cross-sex behavior in an Isthmus Zapotec village. Estudio presentado durante la conferencia anual de la Asociación Americana de Antropología . Ciudad de México. Transgender Identity and Acceptance in a Global Era: The Muxes of Juchitán 263

Smith, R. C. (2006). Mexico and Nueva York: Vidastransnacionles de los migrantes mexicanos entre Puebla y Nueva York . México: Porrua. Susan Donalson James, “Boys Assaults Gay Student as Cellphone Captures Attack,” ABC NEWS (Oct. 28, 2011), http://abcnews.go.com/Health/ohio bully-beating-gay-caughtcell phone/ story?id=14834057 . Taylor, C. L. (1986). Mexican male homosexual behavior in public contexts. In E. Blackwood (Ed.), The many faces of homosexuality: Anthropological approaches to homosexual behavior (pp. 117–136). New York: Harrington Press. Terrazas, T. (2007, July 26). ¿Y las muertas de Jalisco? El Occidental . Trexler, R. C. (1995). Sex and conquest: Gendered violence, political order, and the European conquest of the Americas . Ithaca: Cornell University Press. Velázquez, M. M. (1997). El Camino de ser Mujer en Juchitán. In V. Bennholdt-Thomsen (Ed.), Juchitán, la ciudad de las mujeres (pp. 99–125). Oaxaca: Instituto Oaxaqueño de Las Culturas. Vélez Ascendio, O. (2009). Exigen esclarecer muerte de joven muxe en Juchitán. La Jornada, 25 . Whitehead, H. (1981). The bow and the burden strap: A new look at institutionalized homosexuality in native North America. In S. B. Ortner & H. Whitehead (Eds.), Sexual meaning: The cultural construction of gender and sexuality (pp. 80–115). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Williams, W. L. (1986). The spirit and the ﬂ esh: Sexual diversity in American Indian culture . Boston: Beacon. About the Authors

Joseph Gelfer researches, consults, and coaches in the areas of masculinity and spirituality. His books include Numen, Old Men: Contemporary Masculine Spiritualities and the Problem of Patriarchy and 2012: Decoding the Countercultural Apocalypse. He edits Journal of Men, Masculinities and Spirituality. More information at: www.gelfer.net. Cormac Ó Beaglaoich is a doctoral student in the School of Psychology at the National University of Ireland, Galway. His research interests include psychomet- rics, gender role confl ict, and masculinities among adolescent boys. Mr. Ó Beaglaoich’s most recent publications have appeared in the journal Psychology & Sexuality and the anthology Boys’ Bodies: Speaking the Unspoken (Peter Lang Publishing). Mr. Ó Beaglaoich’s work on this study was made possible by doctoral funding provided by the Irish Research Council. Kiran M. Sarma is a graduate (B.A., Ph.D.) of the Department of Applied Psychology, University College Cork, and the School of Psychology, University of Leicester (M.Sc. Applied Forensic Psychology). He is a lecturer in the School of Psychology at the National University of Ireland, Galway. Prior to taking up that post, he worked with An Garda Síochána as a lecturer in forensic psychology and as a crime analyst (2000–2004). His primary research interests are at the interface of clinical, forensic, and social psychology, and he has published research and presented on fi rearms suicide, policing, victimization, repeat victimization, restorative justice, and drug, alcohol, and tobacco misuse. Todd G. Morrison is an Associate Professor of Applied Social Psychology at the University of Saskatchewan. His research interests include body image, psychomet- rics, gay and lesbian psychology, sexuality, and gender. He has published in various peer-reviewed outlets, such as Psychology of Men & Masculinity, Sex Roles, Body Image, Psychology & Sexuality , Journal of Health Psychology , and Journal of Homosexuality. He serves as Editor for Canadian Journal of Behavioural Science , a fl agship publication of the Canadian Psychological Association, and has

J. Gelfer (ed.), Masculinities in a Global Era, International and Cultural Psychology 4, 265 DOI 10.1007/978-1-4614-6931-5, © Springer Science+Business Media New York 2014 266 About the Authors edited/coedited four books, the most recent being Sexual Minority Research in the New Millennium (Nova Science). E-mail: [email protected] Dr. Pam Nilan is Professor of Sociology at the University of Newcastle, Australia. She conducts research on gender, youth, and education in Indonesia and has published widely in these fi elds. She has previously cowritten two books on youth and is currently collaborating to write a book about contemporary Indonesian youth, which will be published by Routledge in 2013. She has previously published articles on young men and masculinity in Australia and Indonesia. Professor Nilan headed an international research team collecting data for an Australian government-funded project on masculinity and violence in Indonesia and India. E-mail: [email protected] Dr. Argyo Demartoto completed his doctoral studies at Universitas Gadjah Mada in Java, Indonesia, in 2012. He is a lecturer in the Department of Sociology at Sebelas Maret University in Central Java. He has written extensively on gender relations, gay rights, and human rights issues in Indonesia. His recent books include a volume on involving disabled people in the labor force and a monograph for UNICEF based on a situational analysis of women and children in Solo. Dr. Demartoto is a researcher in the Laboratory of Urban Crisis and Community Development at Sebelas Maret University and was a key member of the research team looking at masculinity and violence in Indonesia and India. Agung Wibowo works as a research assistant and university tutor in the Department of Sociology at Sebelas Maret University while he completes his master’s degree in sociology. He is a junior researcher in the Laboratory of Urban Crisis and Community Development at Sebelas Maret University. He was extensively involved in data collection for the Indonesian component of the project on masculinity and violence in Indonesia and India. Donald A. Saucier (Ph.D., 2001, University of Vermont) is an Associate Professor in the Department of Psychology at Kansas State University. His research focuses broadly on how individual differences (e.g., levels of masculine honor beliefs, prejudice, racism, and social vigilantism) interact with situational factors to produce expressions of prosocial and antisocial behavior (such as helping, morality, aggression, and discrimination). E-mail: [email protected] Jessica L. McManus is a doctoral graduate student in the Department of Psychology at Kansas State University. Her research interests involve understanding how the expression of prejudice changes according to the stigmatized group status of the target and various situational factors. She is currently interested in exploring the relationship between masculine honor beliefs and the expression of prejudice toward certain stigmatized groups (e.g., women and gay men). Asifa Siraj is a researcher with a special interest in the lives of minority ethnic gay men and lesbian women, especially the construction of religious and sexual About the Authors 267 identities. She is currently engaged in research on South Asian gay men across Scotland as well as is researching the lives of British Muslim lesbians, examining the intersection of religious and sexual identities. She has also published articles on Scottish Muslims on the issues of gender, faith, and sexuality. E-mail: [email protected] Sa ayan Chattopadhyay is Assistant Professor and Head of the Department of Journalism and Mass Communication at Baruipur College, affi liated to Calcutta University, India. After a stint as a journalist, he is currently engaged in research in postcolonial media and masculinity. He has published articles in Studies in South Asian Film and Media , Journalism Practice , South Asia Research , Journal of Contemporary Literature , Journal of Boyhood Studies , and Proteus: A Journal of Ideas, among others. His research interests include masculinity studies, postcolonial journalism, sexuality and the body in Bengal, and performative theory. E-mail: [email protected] Iris van Huis (M.Sc.) is a Ph.D. candidate at the Institute for Management Research, Department of Political Science, at the Radboud University in Nijmegen. She holds a master’s degree in Sociology from the University of Amsterdam, where she gradu- ated with a thesis on Dutch civic integration courses for immigrants. Currently, she studies the intersectionality of gender, ethnicity, and class in projects that aim to help (migrant) men participate and emancipate in the Netherlands, together with Mieke Verloo and Marleen van der Haar. E-mail: [email protected] Magdalena Karolak (Ph.D. in Linguistics from the University of Silesia, Poland) is Assistant Professor of Humanities and Social Sciences at Prince Mohammad bin Fahd University, Saudi Arabia. Her research interests include transformations of societies in the Arabian Gulf. For the past 5 years, she has been conducting fi eldwork in Bahrain. She has published journal articles and book chapters on shifting gender relations, social media, culture, and identity as well as political system transformations in the region. She has also focused on the link between globalization and the religious resurgence from a comparative perspective. Hala Asmina Guta (Ph.D. in Mass Communication from Ohio University, United States) is Assistant Professor of Humanities and Social Sciences at Prince Mohammad bin Fahd University. Her research interests include communication for social change and the intersection of communication, culture, and identity. Her publications and conference presentations include papers on the role of media in peace- building in societies emerging from confl ict and the role media and other cultural institutions play in social change and the construction of identity. Neva Helena Alexander (Ed.D. in Educational Leadership from Argosy University, United States) is the Associate Chair for the College of Arts and Science at Prince Mohammad bin Fahd University. Her research interests include female leadership, organizational leadership, culture, society, and education. She has published journal articles, a book chapter, and a book focused on female leadership. E-mail: [email protected] 268 About the Authors

Ying-Chao Kao is an activist scholar, pursuing a doctorate in sociology at Rutgers University. He has conducted research on gender and sexuality, inequality, and social movements. Ying-Chao Kao received his master’s degree in sociology from National Taiwan University, R.O.C. (Taiwan) , with the thesis of a historical and ethnographic military study, focusing on the construction of hegemonic masculinity, and men's daily practices and resistance. His work is published in journals such as Contexts, Gender Equity Education Quarterly (in Chinese), the edited book So I Do My Fieldwork: Personal Journeys of a Quaternary Practice (in Chinese), and Taipei Times . Herng-Dar Bih is a professor in the Graduate Institute of Building and Planning, National Taiwan University. He received his doctoral degree in Environmental Psychology from the City University of New York. His teaching and research areas include environmental psychology, gender and space, and qualitative research methods. E-mail: [email protected] Brent E. Metz is an Associate Professor of Anthropology at the University of Kansas. Since the 1990s, he has worked on the changing quality of life and the politics of identity among Ch'orti'-Maya subsistence farmers in eastern Guatemala, western Honduras, and northwestern El Salvador. Among his publications are Ch'orti' Maya Survival (2006) and The Ch'orti' Maya Area, Past and Present (2009). E-mail: [email protected] Meghan Farley Webb is a Ph.D. candidate in the Department of Anthropology at the University of Kansas. She studies the gendered impacts of transnational migration in Kaqchikel-Maya communities. Stephen Craig Kerry is a lecturer at Charles Darwin University, Australia. Over the past decade, Dr. Kerry has used academia as a forum to further hear the voices of intersex Australians. His research also investigates the representation of intersex in the media and the use of religion/spirituality by intersex individuals as a path to health and well-being. Dr. Kerry currently lives in the city of Darwin with his cat companion. E-mail: [email protected] Matteo Carlo Alcano, Ph.D. in Cultural Anthropology, has been conducting research in Bali and East Java since 2008. His research interests include HIV/AIDS, social inequities, gender and masculinity, Indonesian male youth gangs, and male sex work. His publications mostly cover HIV and antiretroviral therapies in Milan (Italy) and street gangs, sex work, and masculine identities in Indonesia. E-mail: [email protected] Alfredo Mirandé A native of Mexico City and the father of three children, Alfredo Mirandé is a Professor of Sociology and past Chair of Ethnic Studies at the University of California, Riverside. He has also taught at the Texas Tech University School of Law. After earning a B.S. in Social Science from Illinois State University and M.A. and Ph.D. degrees in Sociology from the University of Nebraska, he received a Juris About the Authors 269

Doctorate (J.D.) from Stanford University. Mirandé was the recipient of Ford and Rockefeller Foundation Post-Doctoral Fellowships. Professor Mirandé’s teaching and research interests are in Chicano Sociology, Gender and Masculinity, Constitutional Law, Civil Rights, and Law, Race, Class, and Gender. He is the author of The Age of Crisis (Harper & Row), La Chicana: The Mexican American Woman (University of Chicago Press), The Chicano Experience (University of Notre Dame Press), Gringo Justice (University of Notre Dame Press), Hombres y Machos: Masculinity and Latino Culture (Westview Press), and The Stanford Law Chronicles: ‘Doin' Time on the Farm’ (University of Notre Dame Press). He has published widely in Sociology, Chicano Studies, Ethnic Studies, and Law. Dr. Mirandé is a full-time teacher and researcher and has a limited, largely pro bono, law practice, specializing in criminal law and employment discrimination. His most recent book, Rascuache Lawyer: A Theory of Ordinary Litigation , focuses on his law practice and was published by the University of Arizona Press in September 2011. E-mail: [email protected] Index

A political and ideological Adolescent boys deliberations, 121 American , 29 rebellion, middle of 19th century , Ireland , 42 120–121 psychometric sound measures , 29 defi nition , 119 Aluba , 180, 182–183 globalization and neoliberal economic Ambiguity. See Taiwanese masculinity reforms, 120 American South, honor culture in , 86–87 Indianness , 119–120 modernity and discontents , 125–128 neoliberal hegemony , 128–131 B pre-colonial , 119 Bahrain. See Fluid masculinities transnational middle-class masculinity Bali. See Javanese sex workers business , 123–124 Bathrooms hegemonic masculinity , 123 gender-neutral public bathrooms “Birthing panopticon” , 216 Restroom Revolution campaign , 224, 226 transgender theory , 225 C women , 224 CBWFR. See Confl ict between work and problem , 217 family relations (CBWFR) queer sexual practices, public bathrooms , CFAs. See Confi rmatory factor analyses (CFAs) 220–221 Childcare , 155 Bengal. See Bhadralok China , 176, 180, 182 Bengali masculinity. See Bhadralok Chinese masculinities , 177–179 Berdaches , 248, 249, 258 Ch'orti's, Jocotán Bhadralok communities , 205 characteristics , 119 functional homogeneity , 203 cultural anxiety, postcolonial and Ladinos , 206 post-liberal Mayan groups , 204 categories , 122–123 Mesoamerican traditions , 203 discourse, Bengal masculinity , 120 national and market integration , 206 effects, Indian fi lm , 122–123 pervades sexuality , 204 ethnicity , 121 vaginas , 204 hegemonic masculinity , 122 wealthy Ladino society , 205 late 19th century , 122 women and men , 206–207

J. Gelfer (ed.), Masculinities in a Global Era, International and Cultural Psychology 4, 271 DOI 10.1007/978-1-4614-6931-5, © Springer Science+Business Media New York 2014 272 Index

Cinema homosexuality , 166–167 Bengali , 130–131 negotiation , 167–169 Hindi , 122 patriarchal system , 165 Irish , 4 societal, and cultural change , 169–170 CMNI. See Conformity to masculine norms Gramsci’s concept , 160, 161 inventory (CMNI) hegemonic vs. Muslim masculinity , 170 Code of masculinities , 155 methodology , 163–164 Confi rmatory factor analyses (CFAs) , 20–21, Middle East , 161–163 25, 27, 44 qiwama , 172 Confl ict between work and family relations sex role theory , 160 (CBWFR) social changes , 159 correlation, “marital satisfaction” , 20 women’s participation , 172 and GRC , 27–28 Four-factor model , 21 items , 24, 27 Confl ict between work, school and family (CWSF) , 48 G Conformity to masculine norms inventory Gendered culturalized citizenship, (CMNI), 24–25, 28 The Netherlands Corrective surgeries , 217 attraction and attachment of men, project , CWSF. See Confl ict between work, school 143–144 and family (CWSF) bottom-up approach , 155, 156 childcare , 155 code of , 155 D construction in male emancipation Dialogical self , 55, 60, 61 projects, 137–138 “Disorder of sex development” , 215 debunking Doing soldier , 180–181, 183 description, role models , 145–146 differences, men and women , 146 emotions , 144 E man card , 144–145 East Java , 229, 232 “Real Men” project , 146–147 Emotions , 144 diversity , 155 Ethnicity ethnicity , 152–153 Bengal , 121 fatherhood (see Fatherhood) The Netherlands , 152–153 father role , 154–155 homogenous migrant group , 155 homosexuality , 147 F interaction, society , 156 Fatherhood male emancipation , 141–142 communication and negotiation , 148–149 methodology and theory , 139–140 disciplining violence observation , 154 domestic , 149 paternalism , 155–156 ethnicity and geography , 150–151 professionals , 154 harsher forms , 149–150 refl ections , 154 gender (in)equality , 151–152 “Genderism” , 221 role , 155–156 Gender, masculine identity Female roles , 9, 202, 247, 250 gay , 104–105 Flower drinking , 181–182, 185 men and women , 114 Fluid masculinities religious affi rmation , 112 Arabic cultural values , 171 Gender role confl ict scale (GRCS) Bahraini , 159 adolescent version , 22 biological sex difference , 159–160 GRCS-A , 22 data analysis GRCS-SF , 21–22 femininity , 165 psychometric (see Psychometric hegemonic masculinity , 164–165 properties) Index 273

Gender role confl ict scale for adolescent and masculinities (GRCS-A) historical process , 3 age appropriateness , 31 negotiations , 7–8 content validity , 29–30 non-Western masculinities , 4 cultural suitability , 31 and stability , 7 and CWSF , 48 theoretical models , 5 expectations, adolescent males , 33, 46 “transnational business masculinity” , 3 and NSA , 48 rupture effects, tradition and modernity , 1 RAM and , 47 sexuality , 9, 10 and RE , 48 GRCS-A. See Gender role confl ict scale for response format , 30 adolescent (GRCS-A) social norms , 47 Group facilitation stress, adolescents , 33, 46 male bonding , 187 subscale diffi culties , 30–31 masculine identities, Taiwan , 181, 185 Gender role confl ict/stress models , 18 measures , 98 Gender role confl ict (GRC) theory The Netherlands ( see Gendered culturalized analysis , 34 citizenship, The Netherlands) CBWFR factor , 42 workplace confl icts , 176 CFAs , 20–21 GRSP. See Gender role strain paradigm (GRSP) characterization , 19 Guatemala defi ned , 17, 44 Ch'orti's, Jocotán (see Ch'orti's, Jocotán) elements , 19–20 description , 193 gender role discrepancy , 18–19 Kaqchikels, rural Tecpán , 199 GRCS ( see Gender Role Confl ict Scale Mayan ( see Mayan) (GRCS)) mitigating challenges to traditional and GRSP , 18 masculinities, 201–203 hegemonic masculinity , 18 scholars , 207 incorporation, items , 42 social sediments and masculinity , 196–198 Irish adolescents , 41–42 transnational migration , 199–200 item’s approval and disapproval , 35, 43 women’s public activities , 208 masculine ideology , 18, 44–45 measurements , 31 participants , 32 H procedure , 32–33 Hegemonic masculinity. See also Neoliberal themes values and Bhadralok masculinity inappropriate wording/phrasing , 34–40 adrenaline activities , 165 it’s for homosexuals/girls , 40–41 aluba , 182–183 nobody would answer that seriously , 41 Bahrain , 164 Gender role strain paradigm (GRSP) , 18, 23, “caveman” , 171 24, 44 Connell’s concept , 160 Globalization doing soldiers , 183, 184 Arabian Gulf , 163 fl ower drinking , 185 Bhadralok heterosexual male students , 182 conscious and systematic misogyny , 183 re-articulation, 124 vs. Muslim masculinity , 170 consumer-oriented life , 130 nonheterosexuality , 184 developing nations , 125 sexual club hostesses , 185 economic liberalization and cultural , Heroes 130, 132 historical war , 72 effects , 129 Indonesian , 72 and hegemonic forms , 123 invulnerable hegemonic reorientations , 125, 131 jago /strongman , 75–76 construction, “global cities” , 1–2 possession, supernatural powers , 73–74 feminisms and men’s rights , 11 warrior training , 74 “liquid modernity” , 2 sporting and military , 70 274 Index

Homosexuality , 147, 247, 250–251, 258, 260 Fedry , 231–233 Honor “ﬂ esh”, solidarity and bonds of culture in American South , 86–87 dependence, 241–243 description , 85 formers sex workers , 243, 244 individual differences , 88–89 homosexual self , 236 and masculine identity , 85–86 homosexual sex market , 235 MHBS ( see Masculine Honor Beliefs Scale immobility and inability, work , 236–241 (MHBS)) male prostitution , 230 regulation, men behaviour , 87–88 personal vendettas , 237 Hypermasculinity , 69, 72–73, 76–77 Rizal , 230–231 Hypospadias social capital , 235 “bathroom problem” , 221–223 subjectivity , 230, 233–235 gender-neutral public bathrooms , 223–226 Juchitán. See Muxes of Juchitán “genital ambiguity” , 215 and intersex Australians , 219 K phallus , 216 Kaqchikels, rural Tecpán , 199 public bathrooms , 217 public spaces , 219–220 two-sex model , 216 L urination , 218 Ladinoization , 203 queer sexual practices, public bathrooms , Legends , 69, 72, 77, 80 220–221

M I Male role norm inventory (MRNI) , 20, 26, 42 Identity Masculine Honor Beliefs Scale (MHBS) multiple , 54, 57, 60, 62 behaviours, men , 90–91 personal and cultural , 54 characteristics , 89 politics , 62 creation , 89 singular , 56, 59 measures , 90 social , 54 participation and surrender, sports , 92–94 stable , 54 prediction , 91 Indigenous Guatemala. See Guatemala provocation , 91–92 Indonesia. See Javanese sex workers; Youthful punishment , 95–97 warrior masculinities responsibilities, men and women , 90 Islam , 74, 75 subscales , 89–90 Islamic masculinities trait aggression , 90 construction war and security , 94–95 cultural, economic and environment , 103 Masculinities. See also Youthful warrior men and women , 102–103 masculinities Muslim , 105 Ch'orti’s ( see Ch'orti's, Jocotán) political and social , 103 cultural standards , 18 description , 102 ‘defense of lost causes’ , 61 faith , 105 ‘dialogical self’ , 55 marriage , 105 ﬂ uid masculinities (see Fluid masculinities) relationship , 102 and globalization (see Globalization) role of , 105 hegemonic , 18, 19 identity, Muslim ( see Muslims) ideology , 18–19, 23, 25–26, 30 J Indonesia , 229 Javanese sex workers Kaqchikel , 199, 200 accumulation and hazard , 237–239 Mayan , 198–199, 201 capital , 235 measurements , 20 Index 275

and men’s studies , 53–54 participants , 109–110, 114 Mexican and Latino men , 251 paternalism , 107 MHBS ( see Masculine Honor Beliefs Scale protection , 108 (MHBS)) religious affi rmation multiple identities , 54 gender , 112 sexuality hegemonic masculinity , 111–112 ‘bisexuality’ , 56–57 men’s functions , 112–113 gay spirituality , 56 role and duties, men and women , 105 multiple identities , 57 traditional feminine , 108–109 Rutter’s radical transparency , 57–58 Muxes of Juchitán social sediments , 196–198 “coming out” process, identity, power style , 58–60 and trauma Taiwanese (see Taiwanese masculinity) acceptance , 253 Maya movement , 204, 206 bisexuality , 255 Mayan resistance and persistence , 254 Ch'orti' men , 198 traditional women , 256–257 gender divisions , 195 “companionate” model , 257 Kaqchikel campesina , 199 defi ned , 247 language and cultures , 193 “masculinidad ranchera” , 258 Mesoamerican tradition , 198 Mexicano/Latino confi gurations, gay misogynistic attitudes , 195 identity and behavior , 249–251 sexuality and ethnicity , 196 third sex status , 251–253 social sediments and masculinity , 196–198 treatment , 259–260 Spanish colonization , 198 two-spirit identity, indigenous women’s , 195, 196 communities , 248–249 Media Myths developing nations , 125 ideal masculinity , 69 gradual transformation, Indian male , 70, 71, 82 nation-state, 120 images , 120 Indian , 126 N news , 127, 131 Need for Success and Achievement obsession , 126 (NSA), 48 popular , 125, 130 Neoliberal values and Bhadralok masculinity Men’s studies , 4, 5, 7, 10, 11, 31, 43 culture , 129–130 MHBS. See Masculine Honor Beliefs Scale Indian middle class , 128 (MHBS) lack of managerial ability , 129 Migration , 1–2, 5, 9 loyal productive work , 129 Modernization manual labor , 128–129 Arabian Peninsula , 169 post-liberalization market , 128 social, economic, and cultural changes , NSA. See Need for Success and Achievement 159 (NSA) MRNI. See Male role norm inventory (MRNI) Multiplicity , 55, 61 Muslims P business analysis , 108 Paternalism , 155–156 description , 101, 113–114 Profeminism , 55 femininity , 110–111 Provocation , 91–92 gay , 104–105 Psychology Islam , 102–103 international context , 5 male’s responsibility and leadership , 106 “the international psychology marriage , 106–107 of men” , 5–6 measure, physical strength , 107–108 introductory undergraduate students , 20 methods , 105–106 of Russian men , 5 276 Index

Psychometric properties and men’s participation , 92–93 breadth, GRC theory , 23–24 motivation , 93 CBWFR , 27–28 regulation , 94 CMNI , 24–25 surrender , 94 content overlap , 24 unwritten rules , 93 development, items , 23 Success, power and competition (SPC) factor , face validity , 25 26–27 GRCS-A (see Gender Role Confl ict Scale for Adolescent (GRCS-A)) RE , 28 T response format , 28–29 Taiwanese masculinity SPC factor , 26–27 aluba , 180, 182–183 Punishment ambiguity , 188, 189 dishonorable behavior , 96 developmental perspective , 187 honor code , 97 diplomatically marginalized areas , 175 regulation , 95–96 doing soldier , 180–181, 183 women education system , 176 protection , 97 fl ower drinking , 181–182, 185 rape culture , 96–97 globalization , 190 violence , 96 heterosexual male students , 182–183 homophobia , 184 international dimension , 188 Q life-span study , 187 Queer theory , 10, 11, 53, 56, 61, 225 men’s interpersonal interaction emphasizes, 189 mental tension and confl icts , 176 R misogyny , 183–184 RABBM. See Restrictive affectionate behavior nonheterosexuality , 184 between men (RABBM) “political orphan” , 175 RAM. See Restricted Affection Between Men quanxi , 185–187 (RAM) sexual club hostesses , 185 RE. See Restricted emotionality (RE) structural tensions and confl icts , 176 Republic of Ireland , 32, 33, 44 transition Restricted Affection Between Men (RAM) , Chinese culture and gender 22, 43, 47 regime , 177 Restricted emotionality (RE) East Asia , 177 content valid , 28 international diplomacy , 178 defi ned , 19 national castration anxiety , 178 GRCS-A , 48 wen-wu paradigm , 178–179 Restrictive affectionate behavior between men “yin–yang dyad” , 178 (RABBM) The Netherlands. See Gendered culturalized items , 28, 30 citizenship, The Netherlands and RE , 40–42 Transgender theory , 224, 225 “rejection of homosexuals”, MRNI , 20 Two-sex model , 215, 216, 221, 226

S U Sex role theory , 2–3, 53, 160 Urinary practices Sex workers. See Javanese sex workers hypospadiac men , 225 SPC factor. See Success, power and psychological and social , 216 competition (SPC) factor public , 223 Sport Golfers , 93 higher scores , 93–94 V measures , 93 Violence , 229, 236, 242, 243 Index 277

W invulnerable hero , 73–76 War and security , 94–95 male child socialization , 81 Warriors. See Youthful warrior masculinities male heroes , 72 male myths and icons , 82 recognition, ﬂ ow and pleasure , Y 79–80 Youthful warrior masculinities “snowballing” research strategy , 73 framing, recognition , 71 subjectivity, male persons , 70 gender , 71–72 youth and control , 78–79 hypermasculine warrior ( see Hypermasculinity) identity , 81 Z initiation , 77–78 Zapotec attire , 247, 253, 254, 256