Mascot or Manhood?
There are apparently still some really uptight people about Jared McCain painting his fingernails. Not his jump shot. Not his defense. Not whether he can remain healthy or help his team win or continue to grow into the player we expect him to be. His fingernails. And maybe the most fascinating thing about all of this isn’t even that some people don’t care for painted nails. I mean, you have every right to not care for painted nails. You have every right to not care for tattoos or earrings or long hair or short shorts or headbands or mustaches or any other ridiculous thing that somebody else chooses to do to his body. The most fascinating thing is that some people seem to think that these things reflect or indicate something about whether or not a man is sufficiently masculine or not. Because if another man’s fingernails are capable of challenging your conception of what constitutes a manly man, maybe the problem isn’t his nail polish. Maybe the problem is your conception of masculinity.
Jared McCain, kid from California, has always been true and true to himself, and that is who we should be teaching our kids from day one. I applaud his parents for letting him, as he grew up, be himself. One can’t help but wonder if that, in addition to how hard he works, inherently is why he’s been able to make success of his life and deal with adversity with a smile. This article isn’t about Jared McCain, but he is a fantastic example to draw upon.
Masculinity Isn’t a Dress Code
At some point along the way, we decided that there were some really weird requirements for manliness. You must wear this. You mustn’t wear that. You must talk like this. You mustn’t sit like that. You mustn’t cry. You mustn’t be too affectionate. You mustn’t like this kind of music.
And, most definitely, you absolutely mustn’t put color on your fingernails. All of these things are completely irrelevant to a person’s character. All of these things are about conformity. And that’s what we’ve been doing for generations: conflating conformity with character. Masculinity, in some of our culture’s circles, has become a performance art, an art that requires continual reinforcement of the idea that one isn’t too feminine, too emotional, too different, or too interested in anything that might attract a sideways glance. It’s an exhausting way to live. It’s a brittle way to define oneself. If your definition of manliness hinges on what somebody else is wearing, it wasn’t very sturdy to begin with. True confidence doesn’t require a dress code. It doesn’t require policing the clothing choices of a twenty something basketball player to feel comfortable.
What We Should Be Teaching
This isn’t about whether or not people should or shouldn’t paint their fingernails. This is about the fact that a person’s character, work ethic, and how he treats others is far more important than what color nail polish he chooses. Jared McCain has dealt with scrutiny and adversity with a smile. He’s continued to work. He’s continued to be true to himself. These are the things that we should be praising. These are the things that we should be teaching. If we want to raise confident, upstanding men, we shouldn’t be giving them a list of things that they aren’t allowed to be. We should be teaching them that being yourself isn’t a bad thing. That other people’s decisions about their bodies aren’t a threat. And, ultimately, that masculinity wasn’t a uniform in the first place.
So no, the problem here isn’t a young man’s fingernails. The problem is a conception of masculinity so constricted in its definition that a bottle of nail polish can topple it.
Sports Should Have Taught Us
Consider what we truly admire about athletes. Discipline. Courage. Resilience. Sacrifice. Confidence. Accountability. The willingness to fail publicly and then return the night to try again. Athletes spend their lives being judged in public. Their mistakes are replayed in motion. Thousands of strangers tell them they are bad. Millions more can analyze their performance online. They play while hurt. They get traded. They get cut. They miss shots when games are on the line. Must try again the next night.
There is a deal of vulnerability in competing, especially at the highest levels. Yet we have decided that the most important question about masculinity is the color of someone’s fingernails.
Jared McCain can compete against some of the basketball players on Earth. He can absorb contact from athletes stronger than almost anyone you will ever meet. He also lives with the pressure that comes with sports.. If he puts some polish on his nails suddenly strangers on the internet must convene a tribunal on manhood. This is ridiculous.
The Fragile Version of Masculinity
There is something ironic about preaching toughness while also being disturbed by another man’s appearance. A secure person does not require everyone else to behave like him to validate who he is. That part of this conversation interests me most. We have created a version of masculinity that is supposedly built around strength but requires protection. Why?
If masculinity is truly something, why would it be so fragile? A man wearing nail polish does not stop another man from chopping wood, fixing an engine, lifting weights, growing a beard, or doing any of the masculine things he enjoys. Nobody is taking masculinity away from anyone. The boundaries are simply getting wider. That should not be frightening; it should be celebrated.
We Teach Boys to Perform Manhood
The more damaging part begins much earlier than professional basketball or even college basketball or any other sport for that matter.
Boys learn these rules unbelievably young. Which colors they’re supposed to like. Which toys they’re supposed to play with. Which emotions they’re supposed to express. Which clothes they’re supposed to wear. They learn that there are acceptable ways to be a boy and that straying outside of the lines comes a price. Then they start policing each other. Do something outside of the lines and somebody will make sure you are aware of it. Sometimes it’s joking. Sometimes it’s bullying. Sometimes it’s a lot worse. I don’t need to go into detail, but look no further than what is dominating the news surrounding the Cornel 7. If you think there isn’t a tie-in to this particular version of masculinity we teach, then you are walking around with blinders on.
The message underneath it is astoundingly consistent. Don’t be different, and more specifically, don’t do anything that could make someone question your masculinity. The horrifying part is that sometimes the ones who crack down on it the most aren’t even other kids. They’re parents and coaches as well. There are parents who would apparently rather raise an unhappy child who successfully performs their preferred version of masculinity than a happy, confident, and well-adjusted child who doesn’t. Consider how backwards that is.
Your son could be kind. He could be responsible. He could work hard in school, treat others well, make good friends, grow up, and be an adult who is comfortable in his own skin. But he paints his fingernails. Or likes something you’ve determined boys aren’t supposed to like. He dresses different or isn’t into sports. He doesn’t look like the version of masculinity you swallowed whole from the movies, television, your father, or the locker room when you were 15 and somehow that becomes the problem. Then you’re not raising the child you have. You’re casting him in a play. And if your own idealized image of manhood matters more to you than whether your child grows up happy, confident and comfortable in his own skin, then you’ve failed at one of the most basic responsibilities of raising a child. Your child isn’t supposed to become the man you imagined he’s supposed to become himself.
A boy who learns that vulnerability is a weakness doesn’t magically unlearn that lesson when he becomes a husband or father. A boy taught to suppress emotions doesn’t suddenly become emotionally fluent at 30. A boy taught that asking for help makes him weak may become a man who won’t ask for it when he needs it desperately. We shouldn’t be surprised when lessons taught for twenty years continue producing consequences into adulthood. That’s why this conversation isn’t just about Jared McCain.
The problem isn’t that some boys might see an NBA player wearing nail polish and decide that it’s okay for them to do the same. The problem is convincing boys that acceptance, love, and a sense of belonging are conditional upon successfully performing somebody else’s idea of manhood. That lesson can follow them for the rest of their lives. And parents who do it under the guise of “making a man out of him” aren’t protecting their sons from the world; they are creating dangers for the world and teaching their sons to be afraid of themselves.
