Baha’is are forced — sorry, obliged — to say a few selected prayers daily. The longest one, on several occasions obliges you to think about your past sins. I have always found sin a bit of an icky word, and I’m guessing I’m not the only one. An ego will do that, and is very persuasive. Baha’is are also taught that all men are created noble — hence, it wasn’t actually me, it was just my situation, my circumstances, my environment. There is always an excuse. That’s probably why we are made to keep thinking about sins, until we run out of excuses.
When forced, obliged, to think about my sins, they almost always end up coming back to women — or as I thought about them then, girls. How I treated girls; how I treated my friends, acquaintances or strangers because of girls; and probably what I did to my soul because of girls. These instances have been increasingly hard to ignore, given someone close to me has recently experienced abuse, and since I have started to read a book (by a man, thankfully) about abuse.
When obliged to think about abuse in this light, it is clear that it is not just physical or sexual in nature now. It is more likely something far more subtle, insidious and complex — it is fundamentally abuse by and through emotion. Now that I am starting to understand this, claiming some variation of #notallmen doesn’t really suffice. It’s time to be a real Man and do something about it! And when you have decided to start writing a blog, the logical option is to, perhaps inadvisably, try and write about abuse.
To actually say something new, to come at it form a new angle, which inevitably means taking a personal angle.
To show that one is serious, and isn’t just hijacking the conversation for their own agenda, which unavoidably means implicating oneself.
And most importantly, to try to be worthwhile, for the greater good, which must mean proposing solutions.
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This seems like a safe way to start writing about abuse: while many, including me, have been surprised by the extent that our culture enables men to express their sexual desire without detriment to their career, we really shouldn’t be. But not just because we have more women telling us we shouldn’t be. Because, while much of this behaviour goes on largely in secret — in offices, in hotels, in homes — much of it is also on display for the world to see: on social media, in chat rooms and comments sections, and quite blatantly in broader pop culture, particularly music. While most visible in mainstream genres such as hip-hop, rock and even pop music itself — Blurred Lines and all — it is probably most prevalent in the field of music derided by many but loved devotedly by a few, including myself and my school friends, called Emo.
Far be it for me to fully and accurately explain Emo: there is an academic-journal-worthy Wikipedia page for that. I missed the start, the evolution from underground hardcore, punk and indie roots, but I was there in its heyday, wearing skinny jeans on legs not quite skinny enough to pull it off. Trying to grow a fringe with an already receding hairline. Desperate to learn guitar to the minimal extent needed to be in a band, and all the benefits associated with.
So here is my best attempt, through the use of horribly generalised stereotypes: not quite depressed and cynical enough to be goth, not quite angry or authentic enough to be hardcore, definitely not social minded enough and too self-obsessed to be punk, a bit too good looking and aware of the fact to be indie, and too obsessed with girls (and only very occasionally boys) to be any of them. Except pop, but in general too dark to be pop. And male – very male.
Because there is a dark, male-dominated undercurrent to Emo that is unsettling. At least when I listen to it now, I can come at it with a bit more life experience, and bit more detachment from the underlying emotions, and start to make sense of some of the themes that can be heard, and some of the archetypes that emerge — some of which are listed here, with links if for some reason you want to see or listen for yourself.
Some of it is complex. There is the Despairing Emo, the Helpless Emo, with his surrender to one’s environment, its assault of temptations that overpower a weak man’s will. We are lacking. We are a slave to this. There is no escape. The Self-Destructive Emo spirals out of control under this burden. The Suffering Emo accepts it, seeks to understand it. I can even sometimes hear, listening closely, submission to a higher power, a greater force. Religious undertones — the Religious Emo — are everywhere, and occasionally we do see the Spiritual Emo emerge out the other side.
On one hand, some of it comes close to feminism, as the Feminine Emo: woke enough to admit that for all our material accumulated status, our influence, our achievements, we are fundamentally weaker in spirit than you. This music is also an attempt at gendered absolution — we have been terrible to you, we don’t deserve you, but we need you nonetheless. Hopefully he means it, and isn’t just trying to get laid.
On the other hand, some of it is anti-feminism, is men’s rights activism, the Righteous Emo: an attempt to illume a different type of power balance, which exists not structurally, economically, and physically — but emotionally, sexually, possibly even intellectually, in the other direction.
Some of it, however, is pretty straightforward. Some of it, as seems glaringly obvious to me now, is nothing if not emotional abuse, disguised as a song — using your power to tell one side of a complicated story, and to make money and tour the world while objectifying and demeaning them in front of the world. A dark spectrum of archetypes can be found here — The Jealous Emo, the Callous Emo, the Vengeful Emo, the Hateful Emo — which are regrettably all too common.
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It is tempting to get a bit self-indulgent here. To play up the ultimate and most common Emo archetype: the boy who’s only hope, only chance for happiness, is a Girl, and the emotional blackmail that entails. Maybe, in some cases, this is what it comes down to… but it really shouldn’t get to this stage. None of us are anyone’s saviours.
Rather than placing guilt on the other side, asking for salvation, another temptation is to place blame on the other side. I’ve hated on my fair share of girls, back in the day. I’d like to think there was some justice behind that, not just thwarted male privilege and entitlement. But what does that achieve? It definitely hasn’t got me anywhere positive. I’m sure there are women who are required to call to account and fix the mistakes of their naive, careless, selfish sisters. But what boy would be silly enough to think they could go about changing that situation themselves? I can’t see that ever ending well…
There are more than enough males that put themselves firmly on a side. There be the woke bros, the self-proclaimed feminists: expressing shame at, even disowning, their own. And there be the alt-right, the incels: in solidarity at their computers, pleading that they are the real victims here. I’m inclined to sit somewhere in the middle, not just because I was assigned that position at birth. More because Emo, when taken as a whole, provides some illumination of the complexity of this picture. Both sides have valid points, and both sides have work to do… what a courageous position to take!
My main lesson from Emo lies in the name: that this whole mess revolves around emotions. That these emotions are real, they are natural, and many, if not most, of them are, fundamentally, even if it is a cliche, about women. That men need to express these emotions, that they need them to be recognised — if one side is capable of widespread emotional abuse, then perhaps the other is as well? — but they also need to understand how to control these emotions.
Emo is one outlet for expressing these emotions, to seek recognition for them, while even offering a comfort, solace and an outlet for temporary catharsis for others. But where does the line start to blur, where does art turn into abuse? Where what started as a necessary, if not healthy then at least cathartic, outlet for expressing these emotions morphs into the flaunting, capitalisation and flagrant misuse of these emotions. There is often little to separate between these two sides: many an Emo artist fluctuates between archetypes in the same album, sometimes in the same song. These men, just like those who fluctuate similarly in real life, seem to let their emotions control them, not the other way around.
I can talk. I needed Emo as a way to understand and channel my emotions, but without the capacity to control them, I probably let Emo shape my emotions and how I used them on others. And looking back at many of the archetypes that I used to idolise, it makes clear that I was responsible for some of the same emotional sins. And that they were sins: regardless of whether I truly felt I needed a girl to save me, and it was this need that drove them; regardless of any real or imagined injustice I may have received, and the resulting need for justice that drove them; and regardless of whether they were just the product of the environment I was exposed to.
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But that was then. The biggest copout would be thinking that owning up and confessing to it gets me off the hook. Not all men — damn, sorry — should suffer because of those who continue to abuse. The other side of the bargain is that every man must do something to make up for them.
But how? So many buts. It’s easy to say that abuse is the result of a failure of society to educate and support these men. But this is an excuse, and excuses are the trademark of an abuser. But, then, if I, as a Baha’i, believe that all men are created noble — as difficult as this can be to accept sometimes — then it has to be about the environment. Under this theory, it also means that, in theory, everyone can still be saved. But surely not everyone. Perhaps some people have been corrupted by their emotions to an extent that they are beyond saving, perhaps even by that mythical Girl. Better to focus on those who are still to deal with, or are currently dealing with, these emotions.
Perhaps the key is in being educated about these emotions when they are unveiling themselves and at their most intense. Because the behaviour of many abusive men is as though they were still teenagers, even children. These are men believing the inherent right to act on their impulses and urges whenever they wish, lashing out irrationally when he doesn’t get it, demeaning and degrading her as payback, lying shamelessly, building his own reality where all this is her fault. They are emotionally stunted, emotionally immature.
A well structured society should protect against the dark side of these emotions. But when society is filled with toxic influences, overly masculine cultures, sexualised cultures, homophobic cultures, self-entitled cultures, morally grandstanding yet hypocritical cultures… and then add drinking, and drugs, partying and nihilism, and clearly this is what you get.
How much of this emotional deficiency could be combated if, when first emerging, men were taught to practice simple mindfulness, to know when to take a few deep breaths, practice regular meditation, or even, dare I say it, prayer (pray the Emo away!). And beyond that, to understand the origins of these emotions, the form that they emerge in, and how to detach from them. Instilled with virtues such as humility and compassion, which might prevent them from acting on these emotions, and allowing them to understand the consequences if they did.
Perhaps that is something I can help to change. I’ve let my emotions take me down the wrong path, not as far as some, but enough to see what it looks like. Recently, I have been fortunate enough to come across new outlets — children’s classes, junior youth groups, even this blog — to apply this emotional wisdom.
The pull of Emo will always be strong — I’m not the only one who still gets drawn back in — but hopefully this is enough to leave it in the past, where it belongs.
Midsplaining 