One of the threads I was interested in following across the country was masculinity; things like non-violence and feminism and emotional connection. I let that thread go midway through the journey because I felt like we were already meeting and amplifying the voices of a lot of men and my interest in gender and masculinity was exacerbating that imbalance.
But I still had a few impactful conversations, and I still hold a couple of those stories in my heart.
I’ve been editing photos in the last few days and this set, from Sault Ste. Marie, has kept calling out to me. Sort of like Patsy’s story from Newfoundland did back in May. It’s a simple moment but I’ve decided it belongs with the rest.
Edward rode around the dusk parking lot on his Flameboy cruiser, down the hill to the street then back up to the sidewalk, and down again. He had the kind of late-evening relaxation of a kid in July who’s forgotten school and isn’t in any hurry to remember it.
We sat for a couple minutes on the curb; his feet on his skateboard, my helmet under my hands. I told him about the photography project and my focus on masculinity, and I asked him what he thought.
“I don’t really get the question,” he said after a couple seconds, “but for me being a man means being honest.”
I didn’t say much in return. He started telling me about visions he had for his future and I followed him like a cruiser behind a bike. But I liked what he said, and five months later I haven’t forgotten it. It’s a simple idea, but it makes me wonder. What if we were honest with our sons? What if our sons were honest with their friends? What if boys and men offered the relationships in their lives vulnerable, compassionate, gentle honesty?
I imagine it like taking a brick out of the wall of patriarchy.
You know, the part of the wall with the no-skateboarding-allowed sign.