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Men’s mag Esquire has always been one of my legitimate favorites, primarily because it offers at least one
if not two or three pieces of good reported journalism each issue—and
provides arch but accessible fashion tips to guys without descending into
the consumerism and petty quizletry that I encounter in even the
most edgy women’s magazines. Which is why this month’s “How to Be a Man” feature was so disappointing. From the cover story:
A
man carries cash. A man looks out for those around him—woman, friend,
stranger. A man can cook eggs. A man can always find something good
to watch on television. A man makes things—a rock wall, a table, the
tuition money. Or he rebuilds—engines, watches, fortunes. He passes
along expertise, one man to the next. Know-how survives him. This is
immortality. A man can speak to dogs. A man fantasizes that kung fu
lives deep inside him somewhere. A man knows how to sneak a look at
cleavage and doesn't care if he gets busted once in a while. A man is
good at his job. Not his work, not his avocation, not his hobby. Not
his career. His job. It doesn't matter what his job is, because if a
man doesn't like his job, he gets a new one…
A man loves the
human body, the revelation of nakedness. He loves the sight of the pale
breast, the physics of the human skeleton, the alternating current of
the flesh. He is thrilled by the snatch, by the wrist, the sight of a
bare shoulder. He likes the crease of a bent knee. When his woman bends
to pick up her underwear, he feels that thrum that only a man can feel.
A man doesn't point out that he did the dishes.
Oooookay.
I had been keeping a tally of things that I, woman, could also do—cash,
check; eggs, hell yeah; hungover Bravo TV, yup—but pretty much stopped
at “pale breast” (assumed that had gone out of vogue when they finally
started making band-aids for black people). Wait, no! At “snatch.”
I
generally enjoy Tom Chiarella’s work, but this reads like some kind of
grunting parody of male speech and thought patterns—jerky, reductive,
and obsessed with stereotypical tropes of manhood (boobs, booze,
breadwinning). Who talks like that? The emphasis on earning potential
seems especially tone-deaf; in 2009, women are working in record
numbers, and it’s men bearing the brunt of the layoffs in this
recession. As for rebuilding “engines, watches, fortunes”: Just about
every man I know is so divorced from any vestigial handyman tendencies
that, if faced with an engine in need of assembly, he would
simply Google “mechanic” on his iPhone and let the ripoff begin. And
what’s wrong with that? At least it’s honest—and equal opportunity (I
could do that, too!).
Finally, when Esquire insists that a man
doesn't see himself lost in some great maw of humanity, some grand
sweep. That's the liberal thread; it's why men won't line up as
liberals
I just think of all the men who do identify as liberals, and never imagined doing so magically betrays their gender. Why peddle that political point?
And what would a women’s list look like? One longs for Salt ‘N’ Pepa at this point. Cool cover, though.