Real Boys

by William Pollack

  One technique that psychologists use to discover the emotions that a person is experiencing subconsciously or is actually suppressing is to show him or her cards with illustrations of people in various emotionally charged situations specifically designed to evoke such feelings, and then ask the person to express what he or she sees happening in the particular illustration. In my recent research I showed boys two such cards and then asked them to write a story about the main character in each picture while concentrating on their feelings. Loosely modeled on a common psychological assessment instrument called the TAT or Thematic Apperception Test developed decades ago by Henry Murray, I used this approach to develop a window into each boy’s hidden thought processes, a window through the mask.

  What I discovered is that many boys feel profound anxiety about their future as men.

  How BOYS VIEW A MAN’S WORK

  One of the pictures that evoked the most potent responses was a black-and-white sketch of a man dressed in a white shirt and tie, obviously at work, poring over his papers. In the sketch he is sitting at a desk with a neutral expression on his face, gazing vaguely in the direction of a photograph on his desk of a woman and two children (one a boy and one a girl) that could represent his family. Listen to seventeen-year-old Hamilton’s story about what we must take to be his expectation of “following the rules” in growing up male:

  “This guy,” he told us, “is sick of working, and he doesn’t want to deal with his job or family anymore. He is thinking about what his life would be like if he hadn’t married and how much it sucks to work all the time. He wishes he could leave and be by himself and have fun. But he’ll work for twenty-five more years, hate it and then retire. The kids will move out and he’ll realize his life was dull and boring. He’ll be old then and what will he have to show for all this? Not much.”

  Hamilton’s gloomy tale evokes the depressing, emotionally draining role of the male workhorse “connected” to family but “disconnected” from self. It brings to mind those dray horses that were still around in circuses when I was a child, dragging appallingly heavy loads, wearing blinders, and lumbering for mile after mile with a sense of disgruntled regularity and depressing inevitability. Tragically, Hamilton’s caricature is not terribly different from the profile of the disillusioned middle-aged male executives I’m asked to counsel when their suicide plans have failed and they’ve been hospitalized against their will.

  Ninth-grade Roger, rather than focusing on the intensity of a man’s workday, hit upon the ways that professional obligations can separate men from family and erode their most important relationships:

  “This is the story of a man, construction worker, looking at blueprints, who was divorced by his wife. . . . Now he is staring at the picture and thinking about his family, and how he can get them back. He was probably divorced because he worked too late at night and was never home.”

  Eighth-grader Bruce had a similar reaction:

  “A man is at work, looking at his family. Maybe he was lonely or missing his family . . . because they were killed or he was divorced. . . . Maybe he will rescue them.”

  As these remarks reflect, though boys still seem to feel hope, it’s tempered by a fear that once they become men, work pressures could eventually keep them far from the emotional, intimate world of their families. Adolescent boys, my research shows, are deeply ambivalent about becoming men and dealing with the responsibilities, limitations, and loneliness that appear to go with adulthood.

  ADOLESCENT THEMES ABOUT MEN’S WORK

  In analyzing the responses of the boys interviewed, I found the results could be divided into at least five thematic categories, one of which reflected positive emotions, and the rest dwelling on the impending pain in becoming “burdened” with the adult role of men at work:

  A happy, contented family man. Fifteen percent of the boys told stories that fell into this first and only positive category. These boys saw a happy, contented family man daydreaming at work. They said things such as:

  “This is John and he is an engineer, doing quite well at work. Right now he’s taking a short break because he’s had a hard day; and daydreaming, daydreaming about his family. Soon his day will be done and he’ll be home with his wife and kids.”

  “This man is getting satisfaction that he is able to support his wife and kids.”

  The lonely career-oriented male provider. Thirty-five percent of the boys told stories that fell within the second thematic category. They viewed the depicted character as a father fulfilling the requisite career-oriented male provider role, a role they saw as leading to autonomy but also to temporary separation from family. They offered the following narratives:

  “He’s on a business trip, and so he’s missing his family. . . . He has to be apart from them.”

  “He had to work overtime, quite late to make more money, so he’s missing his family.”

  “The architect is looking at the picture of his family . . . worrying about making enough money to support his two children and help them through college.”

  The alienated breadwinner. Those subjects whose stories were in the third category—about 24 percent of the boys—saw a father who by fulfilling his role as a breadwinner had become alienated from friends and family. Unlike boys from the group directly above, these boys were explicit about the unhappy aspect of having to fulfill this role. For instance:

  “A man at work . . . looking at a picture of his family. He misses them terribly because work is taking up all his time. His wife wants more attention. . . . He wants to spend more time with the kids, but he can’t. He is feeling depressed and can’t get it off his mind . . . maybe he’ll try to ask for time off . . . he’s not completely hopeless.”

  “He loves his family very much but has to work to support them . . . therefore doesn’t spend enough time with them . . . feels guilty.”

  The loser. About 21 percent of the boys described a father who had suffered some loss—a death in the family or a similar tragedy—or who was somehow cut off from his family through divorce or otherwise. Most of these boys portrayed the father as feeling vulnerable, as seeking reconciliation and reconnection. Listen, for example, to this story:

  “He’s looking at his family’s picture at work . . . he feels very lonely. Maybe they were killed or he was divorced. He wants his family back. Maybe he will try to save them or rescue them.”

  “He worked too much and the judge took away his family. He’s very sad. He wishes he had a second chance. He’ll try to get his family back.”

  “Alan is staring at the picture thinking how lucky he had once been, having a family. Because he was away at work, the mother was driving while drunk and she and the kids were all killed. He’s overwhelmed with grief and wishes he had his family back.”

  The permanently separated man. Finally, some of the boys we interviewed—about 5 percent—told a tale of a father who, beyond his control, had become permanently separated from his family. In some cases the boys told the story in a neutral way, while in other instances—for example the story of twelve-year-old Jamie—they linked it to deep feelings of pain and longing:

  “Bill is staring at a picture of his family who had to leave him. He is writing them a letter telling them how much he misses them, yearns to be with them again, expressing all his feelings. He says, ‘I hope we can meet again, live together again, so I can show you all my love.’ ”

  “Harry is looking at the people whom he loved. They have died and he is agonizing over what he could have done to save them. He wants to move on; but he can’t. He will probably need to see a doctor for his problems.”

  “The feeling I get is that this man is lost, is far away from his family. . . . He’s in some kind of pain . . . maybe regretting the loss of the custody of his children.”

  With the limited exception of those in the first category, most of these boys appeared to be telling stories related to separation, isolation, and loneliness. I believe that these boys are reporting how they t
hemselves feel and how they view their fathers and other male figures in their lives. They are also describing memories of how they felt when they were prematurely disconnected from their mothers and early caretakers; they are expressing the longings they may still feel, as adolescents, about the difficulty of maintaining close relationships with parents and other close relatives—

  longings for connection they suppress to conform with society’s code of masculinity; and that they are telling us, indirectly, “I am afraid . . . I’m not ready to become a man and go to work . . . I am not ready to be cut off from my friends and family.”

  HOW BOYS VIEW THEMSELVES

  These feelings of anxiety and these hidden yearnings for connection—and the deep sense of loss and loneliness that goes with them—also became evident when we analyzed the boys’ responses to the second picture we gave them to consider. This second picture is an actual photograph of a young blond-haired boy, sitting by himself at the threshold of an open doorway of an old wooden house. The sun casts generous light upon the boy and the front of the house, but a dark shadow covers whatever is beyond the open door inside the house. The boy is perched alone at the edge of the door, his elbows on his knees, his chin cupped in both hands. His expression is difficult to interpret—he appears to be concentrating, or perhaps the sun is just causing him to squint a bit.

  In interpreting this second picture, adolescent boys again told stories that fell into five major thematic categories. While the first two categories were neutral, focused on developmental themes that did not involve particularly positive or negative emotions, the three other categories—like most of those related to the first image—emphasized a sense of intense loss.

  A boy in transition. Boys who told stories that fell into the first category—about 13 percent—struck up themes of transition. They recounted things such as:

  “A boy who is about to move from one place to another.”

  “This boy is captured by the photographer while he is waiting to go somewhere.”

  “He’s waiting for someone.”

  A contemplative boy. About 27 percent of the boys told stories in this second category that involved themes of contemplation. The boys reported that:

  “A small boy is sitting on a stoop, thinking about something . . . mulling over a serious matter in his head.”

  “This is a boy who is thinking very hard . . . he’s sitting and sorting out his thoughts.”

  “[He] just wants to sit and think in the shade.”

  An abandoned boy. Boys whose stories fell into the third category emphasized abandonment—24 percent of the boys questioned explored these themes. For instance:

  “This boy has been left alone, and is waiting for his loved ones to return.”

  “Arnie is a very young child sitting alone and abandoned in a doorway, starving. . . . His parents abandoned him. . . . His only wants are food and love. Will he die alone on the street?”

  “His parents skipped town and left him behind. . . . He’ll end up in foster homes.”

  “A little boy, lost and abandoned. His family lacked money so they abandoned him. He is scared and lonely. He wants someone to love and care for him. He might get adopted.”

  “The boy is sitting depressed and disappointed. . . . He just pitched a no-hitter and his dad wasn’t there to see him. All the other guys’ dads seemed to be there. . . . Dad will apologize but nothing will change.”

  “Missing his mother, crying for her.”

  The isolated boy. The fourth category involved stories of isolation—19 percent of our subjects.

  “It’s a boy . . . alone and sad.”

  “A young boy sitting by himself . . . a sense of loneliness . . . very serious.”

  “This boy is lonely . . . no friends to be with.”

  “He’s crying and sad, by himself.”

  The boy as victim. Boys in the final category saw the boy depicted as a victim, and about 17 percent interpreted the picture this way:

  “A boy whose father has been correcting him over and over. The boy isn’t liking his father.”

  “This boy was accused of doing something wrong and his father took off his belt and hit him numerous times and he will be emotionally scarred for life.”

  “The dad is drunk and beating him and his mom.”

  “This is a boy who has been beat and neglected . . . has no mother and no one to comfort him . . . he’ll avoid people now.”

  “John was just abused and ran away to this cabin to avoid the abuser. He’s very depressed. . . . Suicide is going through his mind.”

  As these anecdotes suggest, for many adolescent boys, making the passage from boyhood to manhood is fraught with profound feelings of

  inner pain. A boy contemplates his fate all alone. He’s restless; he’s lonely He feels abandoned, perhaps stranded by his parents. He is frightened; and he fears he may be injured unjustly or be prone to depression or suicidal feelings. These are the voices of our boys, terribly afraid about becoming men.

  My research results do not stand alone. For instance in a national survey of teenagers for the Horatio Alger Association in 1996, many more girls than boys were able to imagine that happiness is what they wanted most from life (32 percent of girls but only 23 percent of boys), and when asked about future plans, 67 percent of the girls expected to attend a four-year college compared with only 54 percent of the boys. As fifteen-year-old Calvin told us in Chapter 2, society’s expectations of adolescent boys are not just based on a double standard, they are often inhumane: “I guess it’s hard being a guy because there are so many things that a normal person would do, that you are not allowed or expected to do.” Or to borrow the phrase one Native American tribe uses to characterize its own manhood initiation rites, for many boys adolescence is the Big Impossible.

  CONNECTION CAN OVERCOME THE PROBLEMS OF THE SECOND

  TRAUMA, JUST AS IT CAN THE FIRST

  I have found that what boys need most to conquer the Big Impossible—to survive the peer pressure, gender straitjacketing, and the other tribulations of adolescence—is knowing that they have meaningful connections not only with their friends but also with their parents and other family members. Although we are often taught that adolescents—especially male adolescents—need or want to separate from their families, this is another dangerous myth about boys. Certainly adolescents are struggling with issues of identity and growth and will push at us, even push away from us, at times. Certainly they wish to spend some time away from home and develop an individual sense of self. But our sons rarely wish to cut their ties, be on their own, or to separate from us. In fact, most of our boys desperately need their parents, the family, and the extended family—coaches, teachers, ministers, rabbis—to be there for them, stand firm yet show flexibility, and form a living wall of love that they can lean on and bounce off. It’s not separation but rather individuation that they want. It’s becoming a more mature self in the context of loving relationships—stretching the psychological umbilical cord rather than severing it—that healthy male adolescence is all about.

  My research shows that our boys know this only too well. Seth, in describing how he copes with the separation pain many boys experience, replied buoyantly:

  “I think . . . [it’s] just the closeness of my family. The way my parents have brought me up to want to be part of the family. I love going home and spending time with my mom or my dad.”

  “I’d have no problem going and spending the whole weekend with my family [rather] than going to spend the weekend with my friends,” Seth explained. “Sometimes I’d rather be with my family. When I’m with my friends, sometimes I’d say I’d rather be home.”

  For the adolescent boy, knowing that he has a loving home and that he can tap into the strength derived from positive family relationships is truly key to making it through adolescence. In my research, again and again, boys refer to the importance of family. I firmly believe that it’s the potency of family connection that guards our adolescent boys
from emotional harm and gives them the most reassurance in the adolescent world of cool.

  Other psychologists, too, have corroborated the central role of family connections during adolescence. Feldman and Wentzel, from Stanford University found that the perception boys have of their parents’ marital satisfaction directly affected their social adjustment during adolescence. Blake Bowden of the Cincinnati Children’s Hospital found that adolescents who shared dinners with their families five times a week were least likely to use drugs or be depressed, and most likely to excel at school and have a healthy social life. Likewise, the recent National Longitudinal Study on Adolescent Health found that what affected adolescent behaviors most were social contexts, especially the family. According to the study, “parent-family connectedness” dramatically influences the level of emotional distress adolescents suffer, how much they abuse drugs and alcohol and, even, to some extent, how involved in violence they become. The study also showed other important factors that affect these behaviors, such as whether an adolescent’s parents are present during key periods of the day or whether the child’s parents have high or low expectations of his or her academic performance. But these factors paled in significance to the “connection factor.” Such connection, according to the study, involves “closeness to mother and/or father, and a sense of caring from them, as well as feeling loved and wanted by family members.”

  As we discussed in the prior two chapters on mothers and fathers, it is not a matter of being a moral policeman or warden, but rather of offering a boy

  succor from a world that’s rough and creating a niche where he may express his most vulnerable and warm feelings in the open, without fear of ridicule.

  ROLE MODELS: REAL HEROES FOR BOYS

  For any parent or other family member who doubts the kind of positive influence he or she can have on the adolescent boy it’s important to investigate exactly whom our boys say they look up to, who they claim their heroes really are. Despite the prevalent myth that boys’ heroes are distant Olympian figures such as sports stars, astronauts, and the muscle-bound stars of action movies, my research reflects that, in reality, most teenage boys find heroes closer to home: brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers. In families with less traditional structures—such as in single-parent families or in families with parents who have separated or divorced—boys often find these heroes in extended family members, such as aunts, uncles, and grandparents. These findings are buttressed by data from other research, such as the Horatio Alger Study I cited earlier, which reports not only that the majority of teen boys respect their parents, but that over 10 percent of them saw their parents as heroes.