Consider a man without a penis; is he still a man? Right! Let us say a boy has a deformed male organ, whether it was a “factory fault” or due to a later accident, would that be sufficient to salvage him some “manhood”, at least?
Now! Suppose, the male in question lost his member during the process of ritual acquisition of manhood; would that mitigate his tragic circumstances? Would that be enough to catapult a boy into the appropriation of manhood without (over) compensation, if you catch my drift? It is no accident that the euphemism of the “male member” is often further euphemised and referred to as “manhood”.
But! Is that all there is to manhood?
What is the stuff that constitutes the manhood of men? These and related questions are patiently and rigorously explored in Thando Mgqolozana’s riveting novella, A Man Who is Not a Man.
It is about the journey of young Lumkile Chris Vumindaba from boyhood to manhood via the route of circumcision ritual, albeit a botched circumcision.
Its storyline and themes, which includes the impact of poor parenting, absentee fathers, lack of mentorship and compulsive notions of masculinity, remain as relevant today as nine years ago when the book was first published.
Sadly, a few reviewers seem eager to confine its story within the boundaries of the “exotic other”.
Some seem to relish it as some kind of exposé of exotic, stubborn and derelict cultural traditions.
In this sense the author tends to be depicted as a traditional-taboo-slayer who exposes what one reviewer, Diane Awerbuck, called, the “unpalatable face of Xhosa circumcision”.
Few seem to read the book beyond the conventional tropes of a battle between traditionalism and modernity, “retrogressive culture” and “scientific progress”, Africa vs Europe. As if Europe does not have the same problems!
To read the book that narrowly, is to deafen our ears to its powerful invitation for us to examine our prevailing but dynamic notions of masculinity. John Trengove’s recent film, Inxeba (The Wound), whose script was co-written with Thando Mgqolozana and Malusi Bengu, further troubled the murky waters of our socially constructed, fragile and toxic pool of masculinities.
The latter refers to masculinities that are harmful to women, children and men, especially the queer, the gay and the transgender. Toxic masculinities perpetuate rigid gender roles and pretend that there is only one way of being a man or a woman, for all times and all places.
These ideals are performed and reinforced with carrot and stick, at every station and on every front, on the road from boyhood to manhood.
From home to school, from the mountain (circumcision) school to the rugby field, from the pub to the boardroom, from the street committee to Parliament, males are trained to be gods, to rule and to eat for all the days of their lives.
Is the God of the big religions not male? After all, it is “our Father who art in heaven”, is it not? And if God is male, is the male not a god of sorts? Any wonder why the world is full of males used to being, and seeking to be, obeyed, served and worshipped?
In his important work Liberating Masculinities, Kopano Ratele invokes a prize-winning letter to the editor of one of our daily newspapers. The letter writer laments his beloved “lawless” country, where “men no longer rule over their families”. As if there is a direct cause and effect link between the alleged lawlessness and the “fact” of men no longer ruling over their families!
As if the “lawlessness of South Africa is not in fact demonstrated in the rape of women, children and through femicide! As if there is nothing wrong with the man who is “supposed to rule over his family”, psychologically and otherwise!
As if the man is fit to govern, by the sheer force of his maleness!
According to the letter writer, other causes of lawlessness, include the legalisation of abortion and gay marriages, permitting children to lay charges against their parents, and a country that is “totally getting out of the hand of God”.
There is a certain tautological circularity to the letter writer’s argument. Whereas structural and abusive heterosexual male supremacy is at the heart of most of the contemporary problems of society, the letter writer prescribes, as remedy, the granting of more power to the male!
We have seen this tautological remedy prescribed both in muscular political movements and in fundamentalist religious movements.
On this basis, fiery preacher Angus Buchan organises “godly” Mighty Men’s Conferences, annually, where he teaches men to “stop walking around like a, you know, a whipped dog with his tail between his legs” and take back their control.
On this basis, Donald Trump in the context of America, could gloat about “taking control” by grabbing women by their, you know what.
Toxic masculinities are enforced and policed socially, culturally and economically - with a view to the maintenance not only of a general system of male supremacy, but the continuation of a particular type of hegemonic male supremacy: the heterosexual type.
In the process society pays a heavy price.
South Africa has been paying the price in the currency of human lives. It starts with the careful, structured and sustained rearing of boys to become hardened, unfeeling macho men and alpha males.
Like the central characters in the novels of Mgqolozana (A Man Who is Not a Man) and Chinua Achebe (Things Fall Apart), boys are to be ultra-strong and to avoid like a plague the stigma of becoming weak and effeminate.
As well as the feeling of entitlement to everything, especially the bodies of women, men brought up this way, tend to find it hard to deal with failure and rejection.
It is for this reason that the ex-boyfriend has become one of the most dangerous men in South Africa. For what is an ex-boyfriend if not a man who has been brought up to lead and never to follow, to receive but never to give?
This then is how the ex-boyfriend so often and so easily converts from a loving partner into a wounded killer. He has been taught how to win but not how to lose, how to hurt but not how to cry.
Having been taught how to wield power over others, the ex-boyfriend has no clue what to do and how to be when he has none.
Lumkile Chris Vumindaba, the character whose penis was damaged in a botched circumcision, understands the toxicity of the broken masculinity of a “failed man” when he says: “There is so much anger and hurt inside me. I have no control over my feelings, and that makes me dangerous.
“I’m like a wounded beast that might lash out unpredictably and injure, or even kill”.
To break out of the stranglehold of toxic masculinities, we need to stop excusing men from both the causes and consequences of their toxic masculinities.
We need to desist from the loony logic that suggests that the cure for toxic masculinities is more toxic masculinities.
Secondly, we need to recognise that there is more than one way to be male. We need targeted interventions designed to assist boys and men to unlearn destructive masculinities and to begin acquiring skills that lead to constructive and liberating forms of masculinity.
Perhaps masculinity studies should be made a pre-school and basic education subject in which boys and girls will be educated for complete equality, mutual acceptance and mutual respect.
Above all, men need to be taught how to lose, how to love, how to care and how to cry. Such a school subject will be as much about unlearning destructive male masculinities as it will be about learning about progressive ones.
Nor can this type of education be aimed merely at the head. It has to be designed to effect behavioural change rather than mere cerebral and rote learning.
For this to happen successfully, all the major institutions of society, starting with the family, will have to come to the party. Cultural and religious organisations will have to play their part, by abandoning and condemning some of their destructive teachings.
* Maluleke is a professor at the University of Pretoria. He writes in his personal capacity. Follow him on Twitter @ProfTinyiko
