Life. Then strategy » On being alive

Why some men are so lost – Man Week

Mark Pollard — Wed, 01 Jul 2009 11:51:58 +0000

Isn’t it interesting that the current Man Week campaign from Reachout to get young guys to open up is challenging guys to be tough enough to reveal themselves?

Isn’t this ‘man enough’ ideal the problem? So, isn’t using it to challenge guys to talk still keeping the issue in the very construct that’s doing them harm?

Ah, Man Week, how I love thee.

Some personal background

I’m really interested in manhood stuff. Hopefully, before I leave this life, I’ll have made an impact in the area. But I’m still working out how personal to get online about it all. Here’s why:

My parents split when I was young. I grew up mostly with a mum and a sister. Things often got hectic. I went to a good school but grew up in inner city Sydney – Glebe, when it was less pretty. I got shuffled a little bit between homes an hour away from each other. Few kids from my school lived in either area. I disappeared into sport, music and words (then, as a young adult, martial arts and a magazine). I was mostly transient with groups of mates – I’d hang with the Asian kids, kids from Glebe, the intelligent kids, hip hop kids, North Shore kids… but, mostly, I walked to my own beat.

My parents are good people. I’ve learnt since having kids that being an adult isn’t simple. But I felt hollow about 2 particular things a lot of the time as a young guy.

The first was a feeling of permanent vulnerability

Maybe, it’s something – as a teenager – I romanticised (I could have been listening to too much hip hop): being a latchkey kid in Glebe was something I felt so adult about at the time (mind you, I walked myself to school as a 5 year old) but I always had this underlying sense of vulnerability. I had no male backup. No brothers, no dad in the area, few lifelong mates nearby. Getting searched and threatened by local police was a badge of honour. Kids always carried weapons – if only a screwdriver. We enjoyed the randomness because it felt like we had control of not having control. Everything else, we had no say in. It was twisted.

The second thing I felt hollow about was trust

I didn’t trust anyone. I’m still learning to deal with this. I guess being moved around a bit between houses, having a lot of adults come in and out of your life when you’re young (parents’ new friends, partners, dates), you just… turn off. You stop giving new people attention because you think they won’t be there a week later. You get used to people not living up to their promises so you become cynical and don’t think anyone will hold true to their promises. You have this idea that every time your parent ends a new relationship, it’s your fault. Because your parents have kids. Sometimes, they even accidentally say this.

So what are some of the issues facing male-dom?

1. Being a man is intrinsically about physicality

Being a teenager and young man is almost entirely about physicality. Sport defines organised social hierarchy. Physical appearance determines what group you become part of, and whether someone thinks you’re worth picking a fight with. As a kid, I was pretty. But as soon as I was spending more time roaming the streets I had 2 ear-rings (early 90′s!), I shaved my head, I wore baggy pants, tracksuits, Air Max, bandanas, caps … all the corny stuff.

In all honesty, I did this to project someone tougher than I was because I felt so vulnerable and insecure. I see photos now and cringe. I wasn’t big but I needed to feel big.

2. Many men don’t know any better

I’ve had a lot of occasions in my life when I felt really alone. When I was 17, one of my ex-girlfriends passed away from cystic fibrosis. I felt so bad – not only because she was a wonderful person, but also because I couldn’t handle the idea of where her condition would inevitably lead when I was dating her. I nearly crashed the car on Birkenhead Bridge when I drove to the hospital to try to see her for the last time – I was so panicked. She wanted us to remember her as she was, so I didn’t get to apologise. I wish I had her strength.

Still, my mates pretty much just left me alone for two weeks. None came to the funeral because it was O-Week at their respective unis or they had lectures. No one wanted to talk to me about it. I think one of my parents asked me how the funeral was. I was just… out there… alone. So I wrote about it like I always did.

3. Testosterone and the Neanderthal

I think the real challenge facing Man Week and the conversation about young adults needs to take into account the fact that, biologically, men are bred for action, for violence, for dumb stuff. From what I’ve read (and I’m not pretending to be an expert), our brains are wired for the hunt.

Doing martial arts, we got to talk a bit about fight psychology and the way the brain works. Next time you see an altercation, you’ll probably notice a few phases. When there is distance between the people the talk is longer – full sentences (“What are you looking at? I said, what are you looking at?”). As they get closer, the chat becomes more monosyllabic (“What? Yeah? You!”), sight becomes more tunnel vision, the adrenaline dump happens and you either fight or flee. They say the best way to diffuse these situations is to ask a question back and give distance to the protagonist; and the best way to avoid them – advice I will definitely pass to my son – is to not hang out with morons in stupid places. Your ego heals faster than your body.

My point? Men need different coping mechanisms. It’s not just about getting them to talk. They need to understand that they are wired for certain behaviour and that there are things they can do about it. But they also shouldn’t feel ashamed of this fact.

4. It takes a real dad

I have two kids. I want to be a great dad. I’m at work too much. Sometimes, I’m distracted or half-asleep when I’m at home. I fear over-compensating for all of the above. But all I want for my kids is for them to find their own rhythm in life. I don’t know what a real dad is. But, I know that when my son kisses my daughter on the head randomly, we’re doing the right thing. I also wrestle with him and try to teach him about physicality and the boundaries that are OK to play within.

5. It also takes a village

This is something I truly believe our society has lost sight of: it takes a village to raise a child. Everyone’s so busy. Everyone’s looking out for themselves. There was research that I read in The Australian 2 weeks ago that said that today’s grandparents don’t want to mind their grandchildren. What’s going on? I’m wrestling with this one a bit… I’m not contributing enough to the ‘village’ for starters. Thing is, I don’t know where it is, either. We’re all over the place.

So…
Just to be clear, I don’t write about this stuff for sympathy or to put myself out there as this sensitive guy. I write about it hoping someone will relate to it – and not feel alone. I write about it hoping it will shed light on common themes I’ve come across and that my story is just an example of the many things that guys are trying to work out and deal with. It’s not a competition – I’ve met so many people who’ve had incredible battles in their lives. Maybe me writing some simple stuff will encourage them to write about their own adventures.

Other blogs to read for Man Week

Becoming a man: dealing with personal problems by Julian Cole (@juliancole)
Being a dad by Matt Moore (@innotecture)
Balls and bravado by Gavin Heaton (@servantofchaos)
Fathers are funny by Franksting (@franksting)
Media and males by Media Hunter (@mediahunter)
Dealing with bullying by Matt Hazel (@matthazel)
A man in advertising by Stan Lee (@BrandDNA)
My greatest life challenge by Joely Righteous (@joelyrighteous)
Return to Colombia (about being adopted) by Jye Smith (@jyesmith)
My dad by Age (@AgeC)
Balls on the line by Zac Martin (@zacmartin)
Being young and learning about masculinity by Joel Connolly (@joelconnolly)
An understanding dad by Ross Raeburn (@rossraeburn)
The hardest time of my life by Tim Beveridge (@timmwardion)
Black dog days by Andy Ley (@andyley)
On being a man and losing a loved one by Scott Drummond (@Scott_Drummond)
Fighting the Stereotypical Aussie Male by Gavin Bollard (@gbollard)
Some thoughts for my boys by Darryl King (@ireckon)
Writing about talking by Urthboy (@urthboy)
The Errol Flynn Skill Set by Alan Jones (@bigyahu)
Man stuff by Ashley Ringrose (@100ftzombie)
An Open Letter to Dad by Edward Harran (@edwardharran)
Becoming a dad and more of a man by Trent Collins (@tcollins)
Fathers by Andrew Blanda (@AndrewBlanda)
Watching my brother struggle to find himself by Kara Lee (@karalee_)
Second time lucky by David Phillips (@cafedave)
Reachout’s Man Week blog

If you’re on Twitter sharing Man Week links, tag them with #manweek

Photo courtesy AJ.

What do you think?
Either below or on your own blog, please leave some of yourself behind.

The journey to first-time fatherhood

Mark Pollard — Fri, 19 Jun 2009 12:49:36 +0000

Becoming a father for the first time is cool. But it’s different to before. Sure, there are probably plenty of guys out there who will be detached and withdrawn like their own dads may have been, who may never change a nappy or help out in the kitchen … but many want to be different.

The thing is, most of us are pretty much wing-ing it. There aren’t many male Oprahs around nor is it exactly pub conversation for most.

Having become a dad twice-over and watched mates enjoy the experience too I thought I’d share some observations about the journey… Of course, it’s different for everybody.

Ladies, guys want things lined up first
So many guys I’ve talked to – whether it’s about getting engaged, married or having kids… have this thing in their head that everything needs to feel aligned before they commit. They want to feel secure, strong, settled, ready, capable of being a good provider. We buy into these stereotypes – perhaps because we know no better; maybe it just seems sensible. If we’re honest with ourselves, this is probably a ‘readiness ritual’ (“give me time to get used to the idea”) rather than actually being ready but it’s a powerful undercurrent in many men’s minds. (Some guys, however, are incapable of commitment… yes, it’s true)

Men don’t really care about the theories
There are so many theories – what to do to have a boy or a girl, when to do it, what to eat or drink to have good swimmers. I don’t think most men take this stuff seriously. They just don’t like being nagged.

Trying to get pregnant, women disappear into a parallel world
When I was young I believed that you could get pregnant pretty easily… any time. Not only is this not true for so many people, but with women driving a lot of the ‘make baby time’, men can feel like their role is turning up when they’re told to. The ladies are marking off the days of the month on the calendar, putting thermometers in their mouths to work out when they’re ovulating, disappearing into bathrooms with ovulation kits… sometimes re-appearing for the call-up. It’s not always as romantic as you expected… nor as successful.

Success – if it happens – is surreal
Sorry to bang on about the ‘if it happens’ – it’s just that you can’t take it for granted. But when it does happen, it’s really awesome… and scary. For men – as much as their partners – I think the ‘I’m pregnant’ thing really marks a line in the sand between them as young men, roamers of the Earth, pub larrikins and, well, just men. Providers, less selfish, living more for others. Yes, not all men become or stay like this but, mentally, it’s a big event. It’s very surreal.

‘Hanging on’ at the doctors
Rightly so, most of the attention once you get pregnant is on mum and foetus. I tried to attend most appointments to enjoy the ride and be supportive. But, as with the ‘call-up’ phase of trying to get pregnant, many men do just feel like an appendage for someone else’s journey. I’m not saying this is right – just how it is for many.

Men may roam oddly during pregnancy
Much as some men phone ex-girlfriends before they get married, some men may seem a bit erratic during pregnancy – having big nights out when it seems inappropriate, for instance. I think some of this is a reaction to their world at home being less about them, less in their control… for some it may be a ‘Holy shit! I can’t believe I’m having a baby… where’s the beer?’ sort of reaction. Again, maybe not right, but I’ve seen it… maybe even done it.

Nesting – we all do it
The modern day equivalent to nesting involves trips (every weekend) to IKEA, Babies Galore, Baby Kingdom, the local shopping centre… you may only rarely buy something but you know exactly what you’ll be doing each and every weekend. Trust me. Privately, I’m not sure men enjoy the compulsive window shopping thing. Some probably do.

Men lose their wives to baby websites
This must be revenge for being made Xbox widows earlier in the relationship. Bubhub, Essential Baby and Huggies seem to be local favourites.

Many men try to connect (or re-connect) with their dads
I took my dad away for a weekend. Just spoke and stuff. We do this because we’re trying to remember how our dads were when we were kids and what part of how they were we then want to be. Maybe we want to hear that things will be OK, that we’ll be able to handle everything fatherhood throws at us, as well.

A lot of stuff stops making sense
This is a really common theme with a lot of the young dads I speak to. Half of our ante-natal group changed their job in the 3 months we saw each other. Then the last few months of the pregnancy and first few months after baby arrives… it’s both hard to focus but also really hard to feel motivated. Being with baby versus working? Just doesn’t make sense in a lot of ways. It can be a tough journey for many men as they re-evaluate and adjust their values.

Respect for women
I have to say… women are awesome. Having babies, holy cow! Respect, respect, respect.

If you’re on this journey now, I really recommend reading this book: Manhood by Steve Biddulph. It will make a bunch of stuff that much clearer.

What are your thoughts?
As a man on this journey, as a woman watching it? Oh, and, yes, I KNOW it’s tougher for women… but somebody had to write a man’s perspective. Please don’t judge it.

Photo courtesy of me.

If you enjoyed the read, please leave a comment. Feel free to follow me on Twitter

Single mums

Mark Pollard — Sat, 13 Jun 2009 10:33:12 +0000

I grew up in a single-mum household. It wasn’t easy for any of us. But since having kids, I’ve come to appreciate – really appreciate – mums of all shapes and sizes.

I was re-listening to a Chris Rock sketch about dads (from “Bigger and Blacker“) recently. In it, he jokes about how everyone raps about mum, how dads nag their kids to tell mum how great they look, and then he says:

[The real daddies] … make your world a better, safer place, and what does daddy get? The big piece of chicken. That’s all daddy gets is the big piece of chicken.

It’s true – some dads may feel a bit anonymous in the chaos of family life… but nobody does it tougher than a single working mum with young kids: feeling that sinking feeling every time you close the gate behind you at childcare drop-off in the morning, juggling the demands of work, rushing to get to childcare for the pickup, getting the meal on the table, getting the kids washed, changed, ready for bed. It doesn’t stop.

And so many don’t have huge support networks. Grandparents are often divorced themselves and strewn around the country – or world… much like our brothers and sisters.

Yes, there are so many beautiful moments along the way – and they make it all worthwhile.

But I just wanted to write something, send out some virtual moral support and a huge dose of respect… and say:

Single mums, you’re amazing.

Photo courtesy Alain Bachellier.

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The importance of family stories

Mark Pollard — Wed, 03 Jun 2009 12:44:47 +0000

Guest post, Urthboy. Many of you will already know Urthboy (website, Twitter). As part of The Herd and one of the key brains behind record label Elefant Traks, his lyrics and music have been heard around Australia for close to a decade. Often socially aware, sometimes political and frequently self-reflective, I’ve always enjoyed his perspective on things… and am very proud to have him share some of his thoughts directly with you here.

In primary school I used to write poetry – not soul searching poetry but crass nursery rhymes that upset my relatives. I recall my aunt shutting me down as I read out a colourful reimagining of ‘Mary had a Little Lamb’. Strangely enough my talents never spilt over into other forms of literary expression (or anywhere for that matter).

In my late teens I picked the pen up and started writing again. They were sporadic half-arsed ditties that I felt compelled to create, rather than deluding myself that it’d be part of my future. I’m good at not grasping things initially, but I’m also good at not being so disappointed that I give up.

The more I wrote the more people listened, and slowly an audience grew. I’ve often marvelled at why anyone would listen to my songs and their lyrics – but I understand that people get caught up in; or relate to; or just like the sound of the songs. In music, a story doesn’t have to be a narrative; it can be a collection of thoughts, phrases or even, ahem, a vibe.

My mum has just completed a brief story of her life for a book that involves the mini-biographies of a number of women. Mum has undergone some serious obstacles including blindness and deafness; single parent; fulltime worker; yada yada – she rocks. Reading her history solidified vague childhood memories I knew only small details about, and it fascinated the shit out of me! I was awestruck by her joys and sadness, yet much of the interest lay in the small scraps of info: the places she visited and the events she experienced. I found out she saved someone’s life for god’s sake!

It got me thinking about how fortunate I am that I’m documenting my life in my music cos my kids will hear the exact thoughts I had when I was their age. I also reflected on how glad I was to ask my grandma questions about what life was like when she was young; how wartime felt in the 40s; and what her hometown of Lakemba was like. There is a massive amount of information about these times but none of it from my grandma’s perspective and her history forms part of my identity. The value is not in her status, it’s in her experience – so even if it’s never published I want to know about it. She’s dead now and we have fading letters and fond memories – if only she could have understood then, how priceless her story is to us now.

There should be more encouragement to write summaries of our lives. The writing doesn’t need style and finesse, but it should be true. Convince your grandparents to do it. Tell your parents to write it down. It’s impossible to underestimate its value.

Say hi to him on Twitter or listen to his music on Last.FM.

If you enjoyed the read, please leave a comment. Feel free to follow me on Twitter

10 things about trying

Mark Pollard — Fri, 29 May 2009 13:57:53 +0000

I recently got put on a list. Always feels a bit weird, but deep down I dig it. It was for the inaugural Creative Sydney – 100 Creative Catalysts. I’m on there for “Bringing together Australia’s hip hop communities through Stealth“.

Doing cultural stuff – entrepreneurial cultural stuff – can feel like a lonely pursuit. Lots of late nights, no sleep, little money… for years. I did what I did because I loved it. For me, Stealth was self-expression, a creative pursuit, but I felt inspired by the idea that I could help people, connect people, and provide a platform for the underdog. The thing is, when you do media, it can feel like everybody wants something, like every conversation has an agenda. My agenda was always self-expression, not fame – the difference is something I think I can pick quite quickly in upcoming writers.

So, this bit of recognition – I dig it. It’s like the time I opened my mail and found that New York City Library wanted to subscribe to my magazine. And the time I was in a bookshop reading about youth subculture and saw a quote from something I’d written. Sincere and unexpected.

I was going to talk at the Epic Fail event for Creative Sydney. I put some loose thoughts together but ran out of energy, time and headspace to do it justice. Here’s what I was going to talk about…

1. You actually can do anything
I released my first issue of Stealth in June 1999. Ten years ago. I was 21 at the time. But I actually started getting the issue together over 6 months prior. I was at uni, earning $150 a week working in a digital agency, sharing a single bed with my MRS. I taught myself how to use Microsoft Publisher, then Quark, to lay out the magazine. I managed to find a printer who had affection for hip hop and said that he’d print my first issue for whatever money I could raise. I think I raised $1100 or so. I had no idea what I was doing. But when I put my original media kit together I seriously thought, “Why wouldn’t a company want to advertise in this?” Within a few years, the magazine went full colour and was distributed in over 10 countries.

Lesson: Blind faith and commitment are incredibly powerful

2. Starting is most people’s problem
I’ve been fortunate enough to know a lot of smart people. They all have ideas… or an idea that they’d like to do their own thing. They just don’t know where to start. To them, I’d always say “Start at the beginning”. The ‘beginning’ is who you are: knowing what you’re about at that moment in time, what you’re interested in. Yes, what you’re about will change but if you forever wait until you’re ready, you won’t act.

Lesson: Take a stance for what you’re about now and act

3. Passion and action are magnetic
So, now, I work in advertising. And, between Stealth and my time in adland, I’ve come to realise the currency of confidence. It gets you jobs. It keeps you in jobs. But it’s tough work – and escapes you frequently. Thing is, a lot of people wish they could do – and are attracted to people who do. That’s the cynical take on things. The sincere take on it is that when you get off your rear and do something, a lot of good people will actually help.

Lesson: Build it and people will help – you don’t have to be lonely

4. Perfection is in the eye of the beholder
I spent a lot of time on each issue of my magazine. I kept a loose count once and I think I got to something stupid like 600 hours – selling advertising, doing the layout, writing, emailing, packing subscriptions, sticking CDs to the cover, updating the website. But I was never happy with an issue. I still feel I have unfinished business.

Lesson: It’s OK to be imperfect because others don’t judge what you do like you do

5. Perfectionism torments
When is ‘good enough’ good enough … to go to sleep, to stop thinking about it all?

Lesson: Stop obsessing – your tomorrow will be happier for it

6. Your idea can become you
Through my early 20s I was doing freelance web, design and writing work – in addition to Stealth and various events I put on. And as I got to the point where I thought that Australia was just not the place for what I wanted to do, it took me a few years to detach myself from my idea. It was what I’d done my entire adult life. It was my social life, my network. It hurt to move on. I felt like I was compromising who I was. I was scared.

Lesson: Keep healthy ties with people completely unrelated to your idea

7. Nothing ever goes to plan – especially when you don’t have one
My granddad always asked me what my plan was. I didn’t know. I was still a kid. I just knew that I dug what I was doing. I wasn’t doing it for money. In fact, I was anti-money. I didn’t like commercialism – despite selling my magazine.

Lesson: Make a plan – on one page if you can

8. Burnout and depression suck
The pattern for each issue I made was ‘obsessive making’ followed by low times. A lack of sleep (I’d sleep 3-4 hours a night for months) and stressing about imaginary deadlines and money will do that to you. Having said that, independent magazines are a tough business. For instance, we used to distribute through Tower Records worldwide. When I sent them an issue they’d actually send back a cheque for 50% of the value of the magazine. This was utterly rare. Most distributors paid 3-6 months after an issue was taken off the shelf (ie 6-9 months after I published an issue). I was trying to be quarterly so, in theory, I had to cover 2-3 issues before getting paid for the first. Also, I wanted to fit a lot of words into the magazine so the font was really small… this created a lot of additional work.

Lesson: Keep it simple and realistic, don’t over-commit, and don’t beat yourself up

9. Sharing ideas is hard
I wish I could have shared Stealth with someone… I mean, the dream of Stealth. I think my identity got too tied up in it to share it. It was also hard to find people with business acumen and an understanding of the culture – and that didn’t want to pimp it.

Lesson: Solo is tough; take a risk on good people

10. It’s easy to get your foot in the door in Australia – but then what?
I’ve written for free for soooo many magazines. Anyone who was doing something with integrity, who shared a similar ideal – I used to give them content for free. America, England, Canada, Korea, Japan. Every now and then, one of the magazines overseas I was involved with seemed to grow big – like publish regularly, have big advertisers and distributors. It made me think I was spending too much time in the wrong country. The scale wasn’t here. Blind faith can only carry you so far in Australia. I don’t know who to blame but I want to blame someone – just because that’s a normal human reaction.

Lesson: Think beyond Australia – or be content that your cultural pursuit may just be a hobby

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