Of Boys And Of Men

Separating The Boys From The Men - A Slice Of My Story

Separating The Boys From The Men

When I was 16 I asked my boyfriend at the time, “What happens if I get pregnant?” and immediately he made some sweet gesture and answered, “Well then, we’d get married.”

And of course we had no business sleeping together, we also had no business getting high together or a number of other things, but we were a couple of “in love” sixteen-year-olds with not enough parental supervision who dreamed for a short while of a life together, till circumstances caused us to drift apart. He eventually joined the army or marines and life went on.

Fast forward a year or so later, I was still yet 17 when I brought the news to my then 22-year-old boyfriend (who I had no business being with whatsoever) that I was pregnant. And my expectation, perhaps based on this previous relationship, was that we would get married. Oh my naivete! For without any hesitation he responded, “That’s O.K. you can get an abortion and I’ll pay for it.” How magnanimous! But not magnanimous enough to come into the abortion clinic with me. Rather a quick drop off, then a pick up at the appointed time as if he was dropping me off for a salon appointment. And as if he had done this before.

And I wasn’t the only girl alone in that clinic that day. Many of us were left to face our fate alone. And terrified we were. In my case, my boyfriend hung out with his best friend rather than sit by my side to face together the consequence of our actions. And I am by no means condoning abortion and this is actually not my abortion story, I have another purpose entirely for writing this. I’ll just say I walked in that day as much a victim as the baby in my womb. And it wasn’t till I walked out and climbed into the backseat of my boyfriend’s truck - (And how ridiculous it was that I sat in the backseat, while my boyfriend’s “boyfriend” sat in front seat) -that the flood of emotional pain swept over me at the realization that two lives walked into the clinic, but only one life was walking out. I was coerced by my boyfriend and lied to by a host of professionals, not to mention this abortion was performed without parental consent.

But why am I sharing this abortion story? This abortion that swept me into a vicious cycle that would repeat itself, starting with this very boyfriend, but with a much uglier beginning and ending. (And in case you’re freaking out, no, I didn’t yet know the Lord) I share this to make the clear distinction between these two boyfriends, and I’m deliberate in my choice of words. For one, though only sixteen, was very much a man, both physically (he easily passed as 21) and emotionally, and he treated me well. While the other, although more advanced in years, was very much still a boy. Yes, a boy who never became a man. A boy who still lived with his mom. A boy whose mom helped to support him by paying his truck payments when he was unable to do so. And for all I know paid his rent as well. And this boy, unladen with responsibility, lived accordingly. Lived for himself. And during the time we were together I watched him transition from an unwillingness to accept responsibility (for his life choices) to an unwillingness combined with an utter inability to shoulder any responsibility whatsoever. He was trapped in boy-land. It was a profound learn. Learned when his ugly actions reared their head after he impregnated me a second time. And I say “he” because the sex wasn’t consensual.

But every lesson has a blessing if one can dig deeply enough. And this is why I raised my son to be a man (and the life experience of being raised till age ten with the discipline of a military father was also a factor). I didn’t coddle my son. I could have been a bit softer, but I had dated too many boys and experienced the full measure of the ridiculousness of it. And I knew my son’s destiny was to be a man. Only twice did I actually have to tell him to “buck up” and buck up he did. He bucked up all the way through post graduate work and he paid and worked his way through it. But he could have been a landscaper as my husband was when he bravely married me (he took on raising another man’s two children – that’s the man I married) or he could have been a sanitation truck driver, as one of my sons-in law is, and that would be O.K. because my over-riding concern for my son was that he become a man. (And he became a man the summer he spent working in Alaska as a very young 18-year-old unloading cargo planes. And if that wasn’t enough to make him a man, the situation also required that he had to cook all his own meals. This prepared him well, for shortly after that he was on his own, making his own decisions.

And my purpose in sharing this slice of my story is to undergird the need that we raise our boys to be men. That we resist the world’s view that masculinity is toxic, that we safeguard, nurture, and honor a healthy blueprint for masculinity that boys could become men who honor and treat women well, rather than men who mock women, men who bully women, or men who are afraid of women or worse yet, afraid to become men. I know the problem is multi-faceted and the solutions are many. I’m suggesting a simple starting place – that we raise our boys to be men. That we don’t do for them what they need to learn to do for themselves. That they learn the skills of taking care of themselves and basic household matters, so that the weight of these matters doesn’t fall squarely on the shoulders of their wives or girlfriends. In essence, that men would learn to place enough expectations on themselves, that their expectations of women would become more reasonable.

For I am now a mother of four adult children and a grandmother of eight, six of which are females. And I see a sea of marriageable and marriage-minded women looking for a few good men to step up to the plate. We have more than enough boys to go around (just as we did in my day) and an increase in pretty boys, the likes of which are not so pretty if you catch my drift. What we need now are strong men. Strong men who are ready to stand alongside strong women, who aren’t intimidated by or scornful of or aggressive toward strong women. I know these men exist, but it appears their numbers have been decreasing since the days of my youth. So let there be a revival of real men, strong men. And boys who are raised to be men. And in the meantime, will the real men please step forth? The world is waiting. And the women especially are waiting.

Watch ye, stand fast in the faith, quit you like men, be strong. 1 Corinthians 16:13 KJV

Watch, stand fast in the faith, be brave, be strong. 1 Corinthians 16:13 NKJ

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