Why Not a Mouse, Anyway?

On this International Men’s Day, I find myself thinking less about celebration and more about the models we inherit and the ones we choose to build.

One of my earliest and most vivid memories is telling my mum that we could dig a hole in the back yard, scream all of our emotions into it, then bury them and move on. I was six years old and I had a lot to learn.

I grew up in a house where emotions weren’t always handled well, but I also grew up around women who modelled something completely different.

My fonder memories are of the full moon parties, tarot readings, Enjo, Avon and “Goddess” parties that my mum would host; events where I was invited into the spaces of strong women – to observe, to assist, and to reap the eventual reward of acceptance and insight not shared lightly with the outside world of men.

My father could be described as a masculine man. He was a diesel mechanic, a fisherman, a skipper, an army reservist; he was never a drunk — not because he didn’t like drinking, but because he needed his license to keep working. I am yet to decide if that fact makes his intense physical abuse of my brother and emotional abuse of my mother better or worse.

Would the brilliance of his eldest son have blossomed into something even more had he not been subjected to physical violence for the simple fact that his hair was red and his natural talents lay in the obscurity of computerised intelligence?

Would my mother and her sons have a stronger relationship had she not been required to rescue them from an abusive man with a persistent victim mentality, in a society that blamed her for the necessary measures she took to protect them?

Those questions don’t have answers. But as a son, a brother, a father and a stereotypically masculine man, I can try to answer the question of what masculinity means to me.

The TL;DR could be summarised by my grandfather Zigmus’ wisdom when I was learning to drive: “Your role is to get everyone where they want to go, and to make sure they feel safe along the way.”

That doesn’t mean “be aggressive”, but it could still mean be assertive. It doesn’t mean don’t ask for directions, but it could mean offer an alternate experience. It doesn’t mean push everyone out of the way, but it could mean hold space for the ones around you.

As I navigate the new-to-me world of fatherhood I have been lucky enough to be welcomed into a mother’s group. I’m surrounded by strong women again. And some of them, I’d wager, are navigating a world where the men around them were never taught what partnership really looks like.

To this all I can offer is my personal view of the joint partnership that is child rearing:

• Women are, and have always been, strong enough and smart enough to do this without men;

• You have been invited into this space to observe, to assist, and to reap the eventual reward of acceptance and insight into a realm that historically your counterparts have forsaken.

Some ‘dip-your-toe’ ways in which I’ve been able to play the supporting role that I believe is early fatherhood:

• Take charge: decide what’s for dinner and make a shopping list that includes those ingredients; make sure it has a few vegetables, a grain, and a protein – buy those things and make that meal, then clean up;

• If you don’t know how to “run” a household, spend at least half your allotted “screen time” to finding out (that means when you’re taking a shit you look up Marie Kondo instead of BBL highlights, or ask ChatGPT to create a schedule for you);

• Fill up your partner’s water bottle (read: Stanley cup) every chance you get.

I once heard a line attributed to Riley Reid that went roughly: “if you don’t want your wife to sleep with the plumber, don’t leave the work so long that she needs to call a plumber.”

Between Riley and Zigmus I’m sure there’s lots I’m missing, and perhaps that’s the third component in all of this – I don’t know the path – but I’m willing to approach masculinity and fatherhood the way I’ve approached my craft for so long: as a learner.