What does it mean to be masculine? A hotly debated question for so many reasons, it’s usually enough to get just about anyone in a frenzy.
But what if we’re looking at masculinity completely wrong to begin with? After all, who says that masculinity has to be exclusively one set of things?
Marrion challenges us to take our blindfolds off and take a closer look, getting to the heart of this thing we call masculinity.
I don’t know what masculinity is anymore. I think that I had a very arbitrary idea of what it meant: strong, ferocious, not feminine, not sensitive, not emotional, aggressive, athletic, and charming. I’m not saying masculinity is void of those things, but I don’t know if I can say it is exclusively those things either. I believe masculinity shape shifts and looks differently in every person.
For some, being masculine is just not being feminine, and I don’t agree with that. I think that whole perspective is toxic and damaging because it’s tied to manhood, which is tied to patriarchy, which is simply another method of controlling others.
It controls men and makes us think that we have to fit in a box to perform, be accepted, thrive, and it controls women, making them believe they have to do certain things as well. It controls those of us who may not be hetero—queer, trans, or in any way different—in an oppressive way.
At the end of the day, a person’s ability to naturally fit society’s definition of masculinity is simply a desirable trait that society appreciates–nothing more, nothing less. I’m trying to break free of what masculinity is tied to, which is oppression.
Being queer actually makes it easier for me to not worry about masculinity. Not that being queer is easy—it isn’t—but because I know I’m never going to fit into that box, it helps me stop trying and focus more on being me.
When I was younger, I tried the girlfriends, walking this way versus that, being the athlete, etc. But it took me a long time to realize I just wasn’t those things. What I didn’t know back then, but I know now, is that part of me is great because I couldn’t do those things. Even though I couldn’t fit within society’s box of masculinity growing up, I’ve learned to accept and embrace that part of myself, while not resenting men who do fit that category.
At the end of the day, a person’s ability to naturally fit society’s definition of masculinity is simply a desirable trait that society appreciates–nothing more, nothing less. I’m trying to break free of what masculinity is tied to, which is oppression.
There is nothing wrong with the traditional idea of masculinity. The problem is that we blindly let it take us to that hateful place. As bell hooks said in a recent talk, “masculinity isn’t the problem. People are going to be masculine and feminine.
The problem is patriarchy, the dominant behavior focused on controlling and oppressing others.” I’ve learned that the beauty of being an outlier is being able to see what’s going on in the world, differently. And hopefully, playing a role in changing it.
Being queer actually makes it easier for me to not worry about masculinity. Not that being queer is easy—it isn’t—but because I know I’m never going to fit into that box, it helps me stop trying and focus more on being me.
In 2019, Keith F. Miller, Jr., observed something remarkable while running creative writing after school programs in Savannah, GA: Students from all backgrounds didn’t just step outside their comfort zones—they learned, led, and thrived with unmistakable joy. Despite this, Keith heard from students and families that school, even for the high-achievers, was a place they survived, not thrived. This led Keith, through his studies in Educational Psychology, to explore why young people felt empowered to learn, lead, and heal in some spaces but not in others.
Through a qualitative research study involving interviews with high schoolers, fellow teaching artists over a year, in addition to examining creative works from youth journals and performances, Keith found that when young people engage in arts-based healing practices with trusted others (peers and adults), they don’t just cope with their struggles—they transform them, becoming vibrant leaders in the process.
Drawing inspiration from the process of rainbow formation—reflection, refraction, and dispersion—and building off of groundbreaking research from scholars like David Kirkland, Gholdy Muhammad, Bettina Love, Bianca Baldridge, and Shawn Ginwright, Keith developed the Healing Literacy Framework, illustrating how arts-based, community programs are vital in supporting young people as they overcome educational trauma, and, in doing so, can result in transformative partnerships in school and beyond that prove healing is possible for everyone.
Enter, HEALIT
In 2019, Keith F. Miller, Jr., observed something remarkable while running creative writing after school programs in Savannah, GA: Students from all backgrounds didn’t just step outside their comfort zones—they learned, led, and thrived with unmistakable joy. Despite this, Keith heard from students and families that school, even for the high-achievers, was a place they survived, not thrived. This led Keith, through his studies in Educational Psychology, to explore why young people felt empowered to learn, lead, and heal in some spaces but not in others.
Through a qualitative research study involving interviews with high schoolers, fellow teaching artists over a year, in addition to examining creative works from youth journals and performances, Keith found that when young people engage in arts-based healing practices with trusted others (peers and adults), they don’t just cope with their struggles—they transform them, becoming vibrant leaders in the process.
Drawing inspiration from the process of rainbow formation—reflection, refraction, and dispersion—and building off of groundbreaking research from scholars like David Kirkland, Gholdy Muhammad, Bettina Love, Bianca Baldridge, and Shawn Ginwright, Keith developed the Healing Literacy Framework, illustrating how arts-based, community programs are vital in supporting young people as they overcome educational trauma, and, in doing so, can result in transformative partnerships in school and beyond that prove healing is possible for everyone.