I have a son. He must learn how to fight.
Because I love him, and want him to be peaceful and happy
One of the biggest lessons I think a lot of guys ( our 30s) had to unlearn was, “Violence is bad.” In fact, most of were most likely taught that physical violence in and of itself represented “Toxic masculinity,” so to even suggest, much less exercise, violence branded men as a danger to the community at large (as it were).
That idea is wrong.
Violence is the foundation on which civilization is built. Civil societies did not form out of an idea that individuals ought to cooperate because, gosh, we just loved working together. Civil society arose as a compromise to killing one another out of resource attrition or simply blood lust. The ever present reality that violence exists on the periphery is the only authoritative check on civil society.
If violence is latent within men, then the tendency towards violence must be tamed. There is no extinguishing that impulse no matter how many reddit posts bemoan its existence, or how many school teachers are trained to always punish physical dust-ups between students.
I love my son. I can’t even bear the thought of him hurting himself slightly when he’s learning how to walk. And it’s because I love him that I know I need to train him how to handle himself physically. We all have a wolf (or as the zoomers call it, “That dawg”) in us that must be trained. Bullying behavior is not the consequence of a system (or whatever), but the natural tendency for men (and women) to assert domination on easy marks around them.
I want my son to know that he has a wolf that walks within him that can protect him at all times.
To that end, I plan on training Brazilian Jiu Jitsu with him as soon as possible. Ideally, he’ll love to wrestle early on so we can build on his skills when he gets older.
Let’s not forget another one of the most important reasons a boy/man should train how to handle himself in physical combat.
To learn how to shoot a double leg correctly.
To learn how to rear naked choke someone cleanly.
To slip a cross and throw a clean left hook.
Because it’s fun as hell to learn to do those things with other guys (and gals) who are learning how to be stronger than they ever thought they could be together.
My training partner is opening up his own Brazilian Jiu Jitsu gym this weekend. I’m planning on rolling with my son for his first time ever at the grand opening event. I’ll let you know how it goes (hopefully with pictures).
I remember when my son was in primary and was being bullied, the head teacher was as much use as a chocolate fireguard with her stupid everyone has to be friends policies.
I told my son to hit the kid back, in fact I said give him a good kicking that he’ll remember. He said if he did he’d get into trouble.
I explained to him everyone has the right to defend themselves, considering the school was letting this kid run riot, then he needed a good hiding and getting the shit beat of him was the only option. Anyway I’d deal with school when it arose.
Of course they butted heads and when I went into school the student safety coordinator told me my son was wrong for retaliating, I told her to stop talking such drivel out of her arsehole. I said if she believed in what she said so much she wouldn’t mind me coming into school everyday and beating the living daylights out of her, we’d see how long it took her to defend herself and hit me back.
She looked a little taken aback and speechless, I don’t think I gave her the reaction she was expecting and wasn’t backing down.
Anyway it was sorted and it was agreed that the two lads were allowed to give each other a wide berth.
There is no such thing as toxic masculinity, there is bad men, just like there’s bad women, both exude vicious horrible behaviour to those around them regardless of which pheromones are in the majority.
My father was extremely masculine from his head to his toes, he was like a big silver back gorilla when it came to my mother and his children, he provided, protected and would have laid down his life to do so. That’s not toxic, it’s admirable and he worked two jobs to makes sure we never went cold or hungry.
He was a wise man and was an involved father with me and my siblings, he taught us many life skills including that at times you have to stand your ground and fight.
My own son is now 18, by the time he was 12 he’d sussed out the agenda and openly stated how white males are blamed for all the worlds woes and problems no matter what, at 12 he was smart enough to sis out their games and calls some of it out.
He says no to men in women’s spaces and sports, it’s a big fat no to sexualising children, maps, pedo’s or any kind of child abusing.
As a parent I’m proud to know my son has used his critical thinking to see what is going on around him and speaking up about it, he has a solid group of male friends he surrounds himself with who call out the madness as well.
When I was a boy I lived in a "tough" working class neighborhood, comprised of "tough guy" sons and daughters of first generation Italian immigrants who worked in the coal mines of West Virginia. My best bud was my favorite cousin, Cousin Les. As a boy, he was younger but bigger than me and a tough guy in-the-making--- strong, quick, fearless, and smart in using his brain, arms, fists, and legs. Cousin Les was preternaturally gifted (pre-and post-pubescent) with the skills and prowess of toxic masculinity. And that was decades before the concept of toxic masculinity had been invented and unleashed on the country by frightened, upper middle class, white suburban soccer moms and by the nation's hectoring nannies, the public school teachers.
But Cousin Les had to learn those skills as a child. My uncle Virgil, his dad, taught him well. I recall Cousin Les's first lesson in pre-pubescent toxic masculinity. He complained to his dad that he was being bullied by a notorious bully in our neighborhood, the guy that even the bullies were afraid of. Uncle Virg said, "Les just get a club and deal with it." Cousin Les replied, "OK, I'll get Billy and Bobby and Ronnie." My uncle sur-replied, "No, you moron, get a club that you can hit him with, hit him with your club, and then he'll leave you alone."
Cousin Les learned fast, clubbed the bully into unconditional surrender, grew to be a John Wayne-size defender of freedom and decency (as in "The Man Who Shot Liberty Valence" and "Sands of Iwo Jima",) and became the personal bodyguard of my brother and me in our neighborhood.
After high school, Cousin Les joined the United States Marine Corps to do his country proud for 2 years in Vietnam. He came home respected by his community and admired by me.
Nobody messed with Les.