“It’s been easier for me the past two years,” Shawn explains, “because now I have a group of friends who know me for who I am and accept me. I don’t really need to change the way I act to conform.”
Shawn is particularly grateful for his best friend, John, whom he’s known since fifth grade. Shawn and John talk every night on the phone. “I tell him everything. Good things that happen. Bad things that happen. Everything. It’s important to have someone to talk things over with.”
Yet Shawn also expressed appreciation for John’s ability—the result of years of close companionship—to communicate without words. “He knows everything about me. I mean it’s amazing. He knows more about me than I do. I don’t even have to tell him things. It’s funny like, even though we can be doing separate things, when we’re together it’s like we’ve always been together.”
Shawn and John have shared a full range of experiences—good times and bad. Shawn knows that John will always be there for him, no matter what. In fact, he credits John with saving his life. “We were just thirteen or fourteen and boasting to these older guys about how much we could drink. We had some beers and I got really, really drunk and sick. I passed out, threw up all over everything and John took care of me. He put me on his back and carried me home. He took me to his house and put me in his bed. That was a huge thing. I mean, he saved me basically. I was really struggling that night. If I’d been left to myself among those older kids—who we didn’t know very well—who knows what would have happened? I could have died.”
John is clearly central to Shawn’s life. John is Shawn’s confidant, his best companion, and even, at times, his protector. Shawn trusts him with his life. Perhaps what is most striking about Shawn’s story is that it is not atypical for boys today. Nearly all the boys I interviewed in my “Listening to Boys’ Voices” project spoke of one or more friends to whom they felt extremely close. They readily described these friends as individuals who support them, care for them, and understand them in ways no one else does.
Boys yearn for friendship with other boys. In our research interviews, when we asked, “Based on your experience growing up as a ‘guy,’ what advice would you give to younger boys?” Invariably the answers centered on friendship:
“Make some close friends early . . . because people toss things around about you, and if you have a good friend they won’t listen to that kind of thing. The friendships you have may be small in number but it’s the strength of the friendship that counts.”
“When you’re younger, try to stay friends with different groups of kids. I think it’s really helped me getting through . . . finding out what people are really like, not labeling.”
“Don’t get caught up with the wrong people. Respect your friends, they’re what there is to fall back on. If you lose them you pretty much lose everything.” These boy-boy bonds follow a code of fairness and behavior all their own. Our study showed that implicit in this code are rules for being a friend, such as “Keep your cool,” “Don’t get bent out of shape,” and “Stand up for your buddies.”
Seventeen-year-old Michael described how his best friend helped him get through the darkest days of being a teenager. He met Chris five years ago, when they started attending the same school. “It was the first dance of seventh grade. I was standing around, like, ‘Oh my God, girls everywhere.’ I had led a sheltered life so far. All the girls were on one side, the boys on another—you know how it is at younger kids’ dances. Chris was actually over on the girls’ side. He was one of two or three boys mingling with the girls and I was like “Wow, I should get some pointers.’ ” So, Michael struck up a friendship with this savvy boy, hoping to learn how to be more sociable.
Though the friendship started on a utilitarian note, it has withstood personal trials and the test of time. Last year, when Michael struggled with a bout of “the blues,” Chris was supportive. He listened without shaming Michael. “Chris has been the person I’ve always been able to confide in and he has always been able to help me out. He’s been there for me. I know I can trust him.” Lately, Michael has felt unable to confide in his parents and finds he relies all the more on Chris’s support. “I don’t tell them as much because they tend to treat me as if I’m younger than I am. They want to protect me all the time. They wouldn’t be able to understand why I was feeling sad and it would just bum them out.”
Michael feels that his friendship with Chris helps safeguard him from further bouts of sadness. “If something really bad happens, then you’re bound to feel bad, but you have a sort of safety net with your friends which stops the initial cycle from starting up and you getting too down on yourself.”
The bond between Chris and Shawn illustrates how boys often cherish and value their friendships. My research shows that boys rely heavily on friends to make it through their emotional ups and downs. Contrary to the image of the reclusive antisocial macho man, most boys have a few good friends they can lean on.
GENDER STRAITJACKETING AND HOMOPHOBIA
Our culture underestimates boys’ friendships primarily because we tend to underestimate all the emotional needs and abilities of our boys. As we’ve already discussed, even very young boys are shamed for showing any signs of neediness, dependence, sadness, or vulnerability. According to the old Boy Code, we expect our boys to be little men: tough, independent, autonomous creatures. We restrict how much affection they show one another. Society teaches us that boys—and men—are less in need of friends, close personal bonds, or connections. Furthermore, society often views open displays of empathy and affection from boys as somehow inappropriate.
One boy, Matt, told us he went through a depression last year but felt unable to seek help because of these unwritten rules of masculinity:
“It’s hard being a guy because you’re expected not to really talk about your feelings. You’re supposed to deal with everything yourself. Girls are expected to go off and talk to someone. Guys aren’t really allowed to do that.” Matt was able to talk to his best friend, Jim, and found relief in doing that, but he never revealed his sadness to his parents or to any other friends. He spoke to Jim only in private, out of earshot of his parents or others.
Boys, early on, are taught to limit the ways they seek out and express friendship. They’re encouraged not to talk about problems, especially problems that expose their feelings of worry, doubt, or sadness. In fact, they’re discouraged from talking about anything too serious, for fear of being seen as weak, vulnerable, or needy—in short, as not being a “man.” As twelve-year-old Alan explains: “I’ll talk to Kevin about what’s up with me, but only like on the weekends away from school. If we talked about that kind of thing at school, people would say we’re acting like girls.” Or as fourteen-year-old Scott offered: “They’ll say you’re a wuss if you’re a guy and start talking all mushy like you’re on Oprah or something.” Peter Egan, writer for the teen TV show Sweet Valley High, agrees. He says that on his show few scenes show boys engaging in conversation on emotional topics. Egan continues: “It just wouldn’t be true. Boys just don’t act like that. Boys know that if they say anything sappy to each other they’ll be humiliated and called a fag.”
Indeed it’s this very fear—the fear of being labeled a fairy, a wuss, or a fag, of being perceived as feminine or homosexual—that often prevents boys from feeling comfortable engaging in serious emotional talks with each other. It too often inhibits boys from ever saying they care for each other. It often prevents them from expressing physical affection for other boys. It allows adults to put a low premium on the kind of tender, loving friendships among boys that, with few exceptions, we encourage among girls.
I was recently privy to one sad episode in the lives of two third-graders. The incident illustrates how open displays of affection among boys are often misperceived. Tommy and Charlie became fast friends during the summer after third grade. When they discovered that they were going to be in the same class together in the fall, they eagerly anticipated the start of school.
On the first day, their new teacher, Mrs. Hutchins, asked the students to copy a homework assignment and begin math problems. As the class settled down, Charlie walked in late. Before Charlie could take his seat, Tommy spotted his buddy in the doorway. Tommy excitedly flung himself across the room and gave Charlie a heartfelt hug. Mrs. Hutchins turned around to find the two of them, as she saw it, “struggling and fighting” in front of the entire class. Aghast, she sent them both directly to the principal’s office.
“We weren’t fighting,” the boys explained to Mr. Atkins, the principal. “We were just hugging.”
To demonstrate, Charlie planted a kiss on Tommy’s head and added, “We’re best friends. We like each other.”
Mr. Atkins was not impressed. “I guess Mrs. Hutchins was confused in thinking you were fighting. But such sexualized behavior is inappropriate in the classroom. I’m sending you back to class now, but I want you to take these letters home for your parents to sign.”
Mr. and Mrs. Simmons, Charlie’s parents, later told me they were quite baffled when they received the letter. “What do they mean, Charlie, that you were sexually inappropriate in class? What exactly happened?”
“I just hugged Tommy.”
“That’s not a problem,” Charlie’s parents said.
The next morning, Mrs. Simmons found herself sitting in Mr. Atkins’s office. “This is the kind of affectionate behavior we love in our son. Why are you punishing him for it?”
“As you will see in the pupils’ manual, inappropriate touching and sexual expression are explicitly forbidden,” said the principal.
“So you mean that if two girls in the fourth grade were working closely together on a project and one hugs the other, Mrs. Hutchins would be afraid of violence and you would send them home for sexual activity?”
Mr. Atkins’s eyes widened and he hesitated. “We would have to evaluate the circumstances of the specific situation,” he finally said.
Mrs. Simmons left, hoping the principal would rethink his stance. But she was saddened, too, wondering if she should counsel her son about limiting his displays of affection for Tommy at school to avoid further trouble.
Unfortunately, Mr. Atkins’s assumption that the boys’ friendship was sexually inappropriate is hardly unusual. The gender straitjacket, combined with the absurd link that is often made between boyhood affection and adult male homosexuality, creates a restrictive environment. Boys are frequently pushed away from one another when they exude even a modicum of overt genuine love or affection for one another. This misguided perception—a form of homophobia—is perhaps most regrettable because it may lead us to undermine boys’ friendships before they’ve even taken hold. Ironically, this may, in turn, cause us to doubt whether boys are capable of intimate friendship. And as we’ve seen in Chapter 7, it pushes some boys to turn to drugs and alcohol, substances that temporarily mute the shame they feel about their genuine longings for friendship, love, and affection.
Is it any wonder that a society that fails to celebrate boys’ friendships breeds men who fail as “friends” in their adult relationships with women? If we separate and shame young boys who show such affection for one another, how can we fault men for being incapable of showing nonsexual affection to their female partners? Similarly, why do we fault men for their inability to empathize with women while we discourage boys from embracing friends in need? The answers to these questions have to do with our gender stereotypes and the shame we heap on boys who rebel against them. I have long felt that a boy able to express his emotions in an open way, far from being a wimp or a sissy, is a hero engaged in a true act of courage. Ideally, this kind of uninhibited love and caring between boys would not be seen as unusual, much less courageous. Ideally, it would just be part of every “real boy,” and something we’d celebrate in him.
BOYS’ PLAY STYLES
On a recent trip to an elementary school playground, I watched as most of the boys engaged in a rowdy game of kickball. At the plate was a small, nervous-looking boy named Brian. From the outfield a larger boy jeered, “Hey, Brian, Brian, Brian. Hey, Brian, why you tryin’.” The outfielder grinned at his own cleverness, then started in again, “We got you beat. You can’t take the heat.” Soon the other boys on his team chimed in. The budding rapper in the outfield was clearly delighted with himself until one of Brian’s teammates yelled, “Hey Cruisey, Shuuut uuuup.”
When Brian kicked a short, foul ball, Cruisey and his buddies went wild with derogatory yells.
The girls were playing very differently. On the play-gym, four girls raced up the ladder and flew down the slide, usually in pairs, holding one another tightly and shrieking in unison. A second group of three played near the building. One girl demonstrated a dance in earnest: her hands waving in the air, her feet tapping, and her head thrown back dramatically, a schoolyard rumba queen. “OK, you try,” she said to the others as she finished. The other two imitated her steps, with a lot of giggles and much less conviction. The dancer clapped and laughed, “Great!” Soon they were all tapping and twirling together.
These scenes are reenacted in playgrounds across the country. Researchers examining play in elementary school children find consistent patterns. Boys and girls cluster in same-sex groups. The play within these groups differs considerably. Boys tend to engage in active, competitive games. Girls, on the other hand, tend to play cooperatively in smaller groups. Boys enjoy structured games, with set rules and procedures. Taunting, boasting, and jousting with one another is part of the fun. Boys argue often during games, but their arguments seldom end the game. When they can’t agree, they resort to the rule book or just repeat the play. They seem to value the rules and procedures that govern the game and make it fair for all participants. They learn, as one teacher told us, “to argue and hold no grudges.” In other words, boys seem to be good at “agreeing to disagree.” Their friendships are resilient, surviving even the roughest play and disagreements.
Boys’ games tend to be competitive and inclusive. Their play creates an open arena in which each tests his skills against the others. This competitive attitude pervades other parts of boys’ lives. As one junior at an all-boys school told us, “Competition among guys is all over the place, whether in the classroom or athletic field. You see this kind of jockeying for position. Who is better than whom? Who’s the best-looking? Who is numero uno? No matter what you do, you’re always going to be competing with another guy for something.”
This spirit of competition, however, is generally less about one boy triumphing over another and more about engaging in a mutual challenge. Sweating, side by side, boys—as we’ll see in Chapter 11—struggle to achieve their personal best. Competition among boys is more about competing with another boy than competing against him. Boys seem to enjoy asserting themselves with other boys. Boys like making their presence known and appreciated. They like feeling competent at the activities and tasks in which the other boys are participating. In fact, research shows that the men who remember feeling competent in play with other boys have higher self-esteem as adults. Conversely, men who suffer from low self-esteem often recall having felt left out of friendships with other boys when they were growing up, not feeling cared for or loved by other boys, or feeling as though they had failed at boys’ competitive play. Donnie, one of the younger participants in our study, put it his way: “I guess what makes the friendship is the fact that we both share common interests in imagination and are both pretty smart, so we can have good talks . . . [But] . . . there is an element of competition with my best friend, being in the same school . . . it’s mild-mannered competition, very mild.”
Less obvious than the competitive and jousting quality of boys’ play is the serious nature of the intimate bonds boys form while playing together. Many great friendships are born of shared experiences on the basketball court or on the Boy Scout sleepover. A quirky little movie set in a small Irish town, War of the Buttons, is wonderfully illustrative. In the film a group of boys divides int
o two warring camps. Their pseudo-battles are serious and protracted. When a boy has the misfortune of getting caught by an enemy, he loses his buttons, tie, and belt. Toward the end, the two team leaders, Jerome and Fergus, are left alone. As they sit together, Jerome asks Fergus, “Why were we fighting?” to which Fergus casually replies, “For the hell of it, of course.” A raucous pillow fight ensues. The last scene is a still shot of Jerome with Fergus in a head hold, both boys roaring with laughter. The audience feels the boys’ powerful connection. Male friendship can arise from the most unlikely circumstances. Amid battling, swearing, and conspiring against one another, the boys’ respect and fondness for one another grew.
Girls’ play usually centers more on talking and socializing within a small circle of friends. Girls’ friendships solidify through shared confidences. Girls are more likely to discuss quietly than to yell and taunt. When a conflict does arise, girls often stop the game until the problem can be resolved to each player’s satisfaction. Girls will generally talk it out before they consult the rule book. Their friends’ feelings are of greater concern than continuing the game. Research shows that when girls are asked what makes them feel good about themselves, they tend to recall a time when they helped a friend. Overall, where boys care more about fairness and following and enforcing rules, girls worry more about their standing among friends. Girls are especially concerned with whether they are well liked and will be included in their friends’ activities.
The comments of a friend’s daughter who discussed her Beanie Baby club with me are telling. “We’re starting this club for Beanie Babies. We like to collect them and trade them,” says seven-year-old Jessie Streeter. “It’s going to be fun because we can do things together and get more Beanie Babies even though my parents won’t buy me any more.”
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