One really nice thing about summer vacation is that it affords me the time to read something other than student essays and The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn for the upteenth time. Although Norah Vincent's Self-Made Man has not been the best book that I've read in the past month, it certainly has given me the most to think about. If you're not familiar with the book's premise, Vincent poses as a man for a year and a half so see what it would be like (think Black Like Me). She tries her hand at such common experiences as dating,interviewing for jobs, and joining a bowling league as well as infiltrating "male-only" experiences by posing as a monk to live in a monastery, joining a men's group and going to strip-clubs. I found the book to be fascinating and could ramble on at length about various aspects of it, but for the sake of my readers (who have most likely not read this particular book) I'll try to keep things brief and limit myself to only a few musings.
Eye Contact
First, I never realized how important and telling eye contact is between people. As a woman, Vincent notices that when men pass her on the street most men tended to lock eyes with her for a prolonged period, sometimes even looking her body up and down before looking away. She contrasts this with her experiences as a man passing other men on the street. As a man, Vincent notices that when other men look at her eye contact between them is very brief - a short glance, perhaps a nod of respect, and then a quick look away as if maintaining eye contact for too long would be dangerous. Later, she theorizes that prolonged eye contact between two men means two things - "I want to f**k you or I want to fight you." As a woman I'm occasionally frustrated by leering men, but I wonder if it might not be worse to be a man, constantly aware that my glances can result in getting my butt kicked if not given with the proper respect. When women look at other women it can mean a myriad of things - I like her shoes, her make-up is awful, she looks exactly like my friend, I'm so jealous of her legs, etc - and at its worst a disrespectful look might result in a snide comment. I find myself feeling thankful that as a woman it never occurs to me that I might be challenged to a fight for simply looking at someone the wrong way.
Dating
Vincent described one of her most difficult times as Ned (her male counterpart) was when she went to bars to attempt to flirt with other women. Surprisingly, what she described made me feel quite sympathetic to all those "pesky" men who have approached me in the past. When I was a single woman, I usually found myself frustrated that the men who I wanted to approach me rarely did and those who did approach me were often viewed as annoyances. I was socialized to respond to men who I was not interested in by turning my back, responding in clipped sentences and keeping eye contact to a minimum. Of course, it's occurred to me how stressful it must be to be a man with most of the pressure on him to approach the opposite sex, but I never really cared. Vincent describes feeling frustrated and angered by women who never even gave her a chance, dismissing her instantly based on her looks or assuming she's just some creepy guy. I can't imagine the ego blows single men must have to endure in the dating world, and it seems like the successful male daters would have to be the ones with the thickest skins, enabling them to endure rejection after rejection before finding success.
Emotions
Even though she was always a woman, Vincent felt like she had to subdue and limit her emotions after posing as a man for so long. Even when she was posing as a monk, Vincent had to constantly watch what she said and couldn't hug other men without fear that they'd misinterpret her, labeling her a "fag." She described most of her time as a man as being lonely, only able to share so much, show so much and feel so much. As a woman, I can cry when I'm sad, scream when I'm scared and hug my friends when I want to show them affection, and I'm grateful for that freedom.
Finally, a Criticism
While reading this book I kept waiting for her to come across the men that I know. With the exception of her time in the monastery, she seemed to spend most of her time with undereducated, blue-collar, rough and tumble men. Even the monks were a-typical because they have deliberately chosen to live their lives in isolation of women. I was waiting to see her interact with men like my brother, husband and friends - men who are educated, professional, well-spoken and open minded. Perhaps her experiences would not have been different (I've been assured by my husband that he and his buddies act and talk quite differently when no women are around), but I would have been interested in seeing those interactions, nonetheless.
Despite the length of my post I don't feel like I've revealed too much of the memoir and would encourage you to read it for yourself if you haven't yet. In particular, I'd be interested in hearing the reactions that men have to this book. I'll end (finally) with a quote from the novel that I found particularly insightful, yet heartbreaking:
Eye Contact
First, I never realized how important and telling eye contact is between people. As a woman, Vincent notices that when men pass her on the street most men tended to lock eyes with her for a prolonged period, sometimes even looking her body up and down before looking away. She contrasts this with her experiences as a man passing other men on the street. As a man, Vincent notices that when other men look at her eye contact between them is very brief - a short glance, perhaps a nod of respect, and then a quick look away as if maintaining eye contact for too long would be dangerous. Later, she theorizes that prolonged eye contact between two men means two things - "I want to f**k you or I want to fight you." As a woman I'm occasionally frustrated by leering men, but I wonder if it might not be worse to be a man, constantly aware that my glances can result in getting my butt kicked if not given with the proper respect. When women look at other women it can mean a myriad of things - I like her shoes, her make-up is awful, she looks exactly like my friend, I'm so jealous of her legs, etc - and at its worst a disrespectful look might result in a snide comment. I find myself feeling thankful that as a woman it never occurs to me that I might be challenged to a fight for simply looking at someone the wrong way.
Dating
Vincent described one of her most difficult times as Ned (her male counterpart) was when she went to bars to attempt to flirt with other women. Surprisingly, what she described made me feel quite sympathetic to all those "pesky" men who have approached me in the past. When I was a single woman, I usually found myself frustrated that the men who I wanted to approach me rarely did and those who did approach me were often viewed as annoyances. I was socialized to respond to men who I was not interested in by turning my back, responding in clipped sentences and keeping eye contact to a minimum. Of course, it's occurred to me how stressful it must be to be a man with most of the pressure on him to approach the opposite sex, but I never really cared. Vincent describes feeling frustrated and angered by women who never even gave her a chance, dismissing her instantly based on her looks or assuming she's just some creepy guy. I can't imagine the ego blows single men must have to endure in the dating world, and it seems like the successful male daters would have to be the ones with the thickest skins, enabling them to endure rejection after rejection before finding success.
Emotions
Even though she was always a woman, Vincent felt like she had to subdue and limit her emotions after posing as a man for so long. Even when she was posing as a monk, Vincent had to constantly watch what she said and couldn't hug other men without fear that they'd misinterpret her, labeling her a "fag." She described most of her time as a man as being lonely, only able to share so much, show so much and feel so much. As a woman, I can cry when I'm sad, scream when I'm scared and hug my friends when I want to show them affection, and I'm grateful for that freedom.
Finally, a Criticism
While reading this book I kept waiting for her to come across the men that I know. With the exception of her time in the monastery, she seemed to spend most of her time with undereducated, blue-collar, rough and tumble men. Even the monks were a-typical because they have deliberately chosen to live their lives in isolation of women. I was waiting to see her interact with men like my brother, husband and friends - men who are educated, professional, well-spoken and open minded. Perhaps her experiences would not have been different (I've been assured by my husband that he and his buddies act and talk quite differently when no women are around), but I would have been interested in seeing those interactions, nonetheless.
Despite the length of my post I don't feel like I've revealed too much of the memoir and would encourage you to read it for yourself if you haven't yet. In particular, I'd be interested in hearing the reactions that men have to this book. I'll end (finally) with a quote from the novel that I found particularly insightful, yet heartbreaking:
"(As Ned) I have never felt more vulnerable to total strangers, never more socially defenseless than in my clanking suit of borrowed armor. But then I guess that's one of the secrets of manhood that no man tells if he can help it. Every man's armor is borrowed and ten sizes too big, and beneath it, he's naked and insecure and hoping you won't see."
Labels: non-fiction
1 Comments:
Jam shorts? Awesome! I haven't thought about those since '87.
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