Unlearning Machismo, Learning Love

AS A BLACK Puerto Rican, I grew up in a household that was as complex as a telenovela plotline. We lived within the intricate dance of traditional values. Mom ran the household with the precision of a general and the grace of a loving host, while Dad had veto power that he exercised sparingly. Like many women of her time, Mom was constrained by cultural narratives that persist today. Yet her wisdom taught me how the presence of power can move in the world in a way that signifies the divine. It was powerful — not in a forceful manner, but powerful like that dark invisible matter that holds the universe together.

Being curious and conversant with this divine love has helped me situate myself daily to decenter my machismo. Machismo, a close relative of patriarchy — but with a Spanish accent — is something I confront daily. Thankfully, I am married to someone who reminds me that her presence will not be a mere vapor in the world. Without this built-in community at home and church, I find, like many, that I can continue to externalize the work of justice: That is, I can be critical of systems and name what is wrong but unintentionally perpetuate the same injustices in my marriage or in my parenting.

The writer bell hooks has been instructive to me. She was a scholar and womanist who never wrote about the household as separate from a new vision of the world. In The Will to Change, she wrote, “The crisis facing men ... is the crisis of patriarchal masculinity. ... Our sons learn the code early and well, don’t cry, don’t be vulnerable; don’t show weakness — ultimately, don’t show that you care.” This book, with its invitation to dismantle toxic masculinity, is indispensable to the work of justice.

For those exploring the meaning of masculinity today, one starting point is interrogating our metaphors of power. Many Christians will no doubt wrestle with the complexity of Jesus’ triumphal entry to Jerusalem this year. Even now when I read this biblical text, part of me wishes Jesus had ridden into Jerusalem like Maximus Decimus Meridius of Gladiator, galloping in with an inspirational quote — all in the name of Pax Romana. But I am reminded these are the tools of Rome, which is to say, the tools of empire.

Instead, Jesus has a good cry, then compares himself to a hen brooding over her chicks. Holding this image is crucial for our times, especially since toxic masculinity has become even more brazen in the public sphere. The three-headed monster of racism, militarism, and materialism now has an extended leash. Yet in my critique, I must also acknowledge this: Some of that is in me.

While seeking social change, we must ensure our maps don’t lead to roads that circumvent our feelings. One of my biggest realizations in this work has been that emotions are a gift to be expressed in healthy ways. Learning to be emotionally available will be some of the deepest and most spiritual work I will do. I also believe, in faith, that the work we do internally will chart a path to a more whole world for us collectively.