To Be a Man

What does it take to be a man? This is a question that I have asked myself many times. I'm reading a book now called "Wild at Heart" by John Eldredge right now which brings that question, once again, to the forefront of my mind. I am also reading Genesis in the Bible, as well as Proverbs which also gives some insight from what a man should be according to the natural order of things, as God intended them to be.

 

I look around at society and what do I see? Quite frankly...I see...wussies.

 

I see men who have been socially and psychologically castrated by an erronous popular opinion of what a "man should be". A man should always be kind. A man should always be gentle. A man should always be a nice guy.  A man should always be agreeable. A man should never rock the boat. And I look and see the type of "men" that this thinking and this societal view on manhood has created. I see men who break under the strain of combat. I see men who retreat into the shell of addiction and sexual affairs. I see men who jump from job to job to job looking for validation of who they are. I see men who no longer even know their wives who share their beds with them...I see robots...I see humans who merely survive until the day that they die.

 

From my point of view, I see alot of males...not many men.

 

So what does it take to be a man.

 

Looking back on my life I can recall three truly life-changing turning points that helped me define what is a man, and what it takes to be a man.

 

Turning point number 1 was my childhood. As some of you know, I was abused as a child. My earliest childhood memory is being beat with a broomstick. My next earliest childhood memory is of my sister being drowned in the bathttub by my mother for biting her. Needless to say my childhood is not something I look back on with altogether fondness or desires to reminisce.

 

This is a turning point, because....at the age of 10 I had a moment of clarity. As I was being beat by my father, I could remember coming to the stark realization that I have no control over what happens to me. The only thing I can control is how I respond to what happens to me. This...was a moment of clarity for me.

 

From that day one, I reconciled myself and challenged myself to never let them win. No matter what they said, I would see them wrong. No matter how much they beat me down, I would get back up. No matter what roadblocks that put on, I would jump over them. I never not die! I would not fail! I would not let them win! Not something a 10 year old normally decides while he feels his father's big metal belt buckle hitting in him in the small of the back.

 

Now, I could chosen to fall into self pity, and ask "why me?" and resign myself to a life of never measuring up, of never advancing and never being good enough. It is a road that many abused children take. It is the path that my sister took. I have not seen her in five years. I refuse to see her now. Last time I heard, she is somewhere in Atlanta and addicted to Heroine and marijuana.  I won't be a part of that.

 

But no. I chose a different road. I chose to pull away from my parents and shift my source of validation of guidance and of nurturing. I stopped looking to my father for approval. I stopped looking to my mother for support. I learned to be self sufficient. In essence, I became my own source of self esteen and validation on this road called life.

 

Now, this is not say that I hate my parents. Far from it. For all the bad things that I remember, my father is a good man. He taught me the value of honor, service and duty. He is an ex-Marine who served 35 years as a career firefighter. He had dedicated his life to the service of others. My father is the one who taught me honor, chivalry, duty, integrity and patriotism.

 

I have to laugh when I look back and remember an incident where I was caught by him picking on a class mate as we walked home. Now I was a scrawny little Asian boy who wore glasses. Finally having someone else to pick on was sweet revenge for all the years I had endured it. Well, my father took me inside and beat me senseless. At the end, he looked down at me and said "a gentleman does not attack those who are weaker than himself. A gentleman helps those who cannot help himself." So began a life of service and duty.

 

Another time, my sister had teased me relentlessly and finally, I lashed out and smacked her face. My father beat me senseless again. When he was done, he looked down at me and said "a gentleman never raises a hand to a woman. A woman is soft and weak. A man is strong. It is a man's duty to protect and defend her, not attack her."

 

So, these compilation of memories and experiences molded me into the man that I turned out to be. My father was not always bad. He has always been my hero. In a way, he will always be my hero. But this does not mean that I will follow in his footsteps or ever see his face again.

 

Turning Point number 2 when marrying Renee. I was seventeen and fresh out of Hospital Corpsman school and on my way to San Diego. In that moment, I realized that it was not only my life now. It was our life. I was responsible for her. She was mine. Renee gave up everything and literally laid her dreams, her life and her wellbeing in the palm of my hand. Heads of households and dominant men rarely ever understand the full measure of responsibility that they have. They rarely contemplate the trust that is placed in their hands.

 

She trusted my completely. And with that trust she silently told me that she would alwas be mine. I have something to live up to now. I had someone to take care of. She believed in me. That trust showed her faith in me. It has always been something that I was able to hold onto when I no longer was able to believe in myself.

 

Turning point number 3 was my first taste of combat. I call it a taste because for a man like me, the first day of war, is merely a taste of what is to come. War by its very nature is the ultimate test for the ultimate man. It is where the men are separated. It is where the lions are allowed to be lions. The tigers are allowed to be tigers. If you are a sheep get your ass back with the rear-echelon types and leave the fighting to men. It was fearful. It was exciting. It was exhilirating. It was horrific. It was awesome. It was all these things all at the same time.

 

And after that first day, I was left standing with a victorious feeling, knowing that I had survived. I had seen the elephant and smelled the smoke and cordite. I had made it through. I had been tested and I had been measured. I had passed the ultimate test. There was no doubt that I was a man. There was no doubt of who I was.

 

And now... look back and see that though important they were, those experiences and emotions were mere passing moments in the winds of time and change. My father and I no longer speak, or see each other. He is retired now, but he is a stranger to me. A heroic stranger, but a stranger all the same. Renee has since gone to God, taken at a young age. My days of combat are gone from me. I no longer carry the rifle or wear the uniform.

 

So what am I left with? I ask myself this and see, finally, that what it takes to be a man cannot be found in a bottle, in a box, in a woman, in a father, in a movie theater, in a board room, in a bank account, on a billboard, or even in a church.

 

No. What it takes to be a man is found within. What it takes for me to be a man is found right here inside my chest, in my heart and my soul. I have been tested, measured and I have not been found wanting. Though those experiences were but mere glances of a life that is shifted through time by the winds of change, I am still the man that I want to be.

 

I am strong. I can and will defend my family and my nation. I carry the wounds from having done so. I have my honor, without which I have nothing. I hold myself to a higher standard, and walk among other men of honor, to be measured against. I am humble. I am but a simple man with simple wants, needs and desires. I have nothing to give but what I have; nothing more and nothing less.

 

I am a man after God's own heart. It is only after hating, that one can truly love. I have hated. Now I can love. It is only after having no faith in the wilderness that one can sit among the faithful, knowing the worth of that faith. I have been lost, wandering the wilderness of life. Now I can sit comfortably among the faithful, and not look outward for something that I would never be able to find.

 

I am rough around the edges.

 

I have looked into one too many sunsets.

 

I have fought and will fight if provoked.

 

I will draw a line on the sand and not be moved.

 

I will not forsake my beliefs for popular opinions.

 

My wife will know that she is loved and cherished.

 

My love for her will be complete, not partial.

 

This is to me what makes a man. This is the type of man that I am...

 

And when I look into the mirror, I like what I see. Everything that I need is right inside me. It has always been there, waiting to be discovered...for that is what I am: a world waiting to be discovered.