“Society” is commonly used as a convenient explanation for inconveniently complex questions. Amid the eternal debate between nature and nurture, upbringing and genetics, somehow certain traits of human beings are whimsically dismissed as products of our society alone.
One thing we commonly explain with the society argument is
the fact that men don’t show emotion as much as women do. Certainly, social expectations along gender lines
have a lot to do with this. A women
crying is a “damsel in distress”; a man who cries is a sissy. That is, of course, a pretty exaggerated way
of looking at it. Nonetheless, in
today’s world, at least in the
Well, I just don’t believe that society is to blame for gender roles as much as we think it is, and the case of crying is a perfect example. And please, before I go any further, don’t think that this belief of mine stems from some sort of chauvinism. That’s not the case. Women and men are, just in case you’ve been under a rock for the past few decades, equal. But I don’t think acknowledging personality differences and gender equality are mutually exclusive.
I am not an anthropologist (I’m not any ist), but it’s pretty sensible to me that throughout the course of human evolution, men and women developed distinct roles. Women did most of the work, I’ve heard. I’ve also heard that the once-popular image of early humans as hunters is long gone; now we look back at our ancestors as scavengers who lived off the bone marrow of animals killed by other predators.
So if women did most of the work, and men, the physically bigger and stronger of the two genders, weren’t hunters, then what did they do? Surely, the must have been good for something, right? Well, the only logical answer to this question in my mind is that men were prehistoric security guards. This meant that the man was responsible for defending the family from external threats, whether those were other human beings, or violent animals. The taller, more broad-shouldered males in our species were better at that.
Beyond just physical security, I think males were responsible for the perception of security as well. Should the other members of the family not have felt secure, how could they have functioned? In prehistoric days, the threat of a violent death must have been substantial. It was the man, I feel, who was responsible not only for insuring the physical safety of the other members of the family, but also producing the belief that there was nothing to be feared. If a man from outside threatened the family, those individuals needed to believe that their security guard was capable of confident in his ability to protect them.
Who wants a security guard who cries uncontrollably under pressing conditions? More importantly, who would feel comforted by such an individual? The family security guard undoubtedly was confronted with unbearable fear, keeping watch amid the pitch-black darkness and uncertainty of night, knowing full well that a violent encounter was possible. It was not his lack of fear, but lack of inclination to express that fear, coupled with his brute strength, that made him an effective security guard. Furthermore, the most effective security guards were those who could pass on conscious fears and anxieties to his subconscious, while focusing on immediate threats.
What I’m trying to say, if it is not clear already, is this: If males resist the temptation to show emotion, or if they perhaps try to show emotion but physically can’t, there may be an explanation beyond the hackneyed “society” argument. Men, in fact, are in part displaying a quality etched into their genetic code, one that pushes them to sacrifice longer-term emotional reflection in favor of short-term functionality, and to feign strength, resoluteness, and unwavering focus in the wake of intensely emotional circumstances.
Just because we’ve evolved with certain tendencies doesn’t mean that all of them are useful or acceptable in the 20th century. In my opinion there are two very clear examples: violence and polygamy. The instinct towards violence must have been extremely useful in prehistoric days. How else could an individual prevent his family or himself from being physically harmed? Human beings, as well as other animals, developed an extinct for reckless brutality when confronted with a physical threat, and this extinct gave the individual and family a better chance to survive. Likewise, polygamy was productive because it better diversified the gene pool, and allowed males to conceive several children in a short period of time. In both cases, tendencies that better ensured the perpetuation of one’s genetic material developed.
In the 21st century, both instincts shouldn’t
be cultivated simply because they are now more destructive than
productive. I suppose you could argue
that we still need violent instincts for exceptional circumstances. The threat of violence didn’t die out with
the passage of time, but it is much smaller now, with some exceptions. A woman walking alone in Downtown Boston at
night may get mugged, and a villager in
If you agree with the premise that men may be more inclined to “bottle up” emotion because of physiology as well as society, I would argue further that this is another evolutionary trait that is valueless in the 21st century. In a modern world where the man has other responsibilities besides the “security guard” role (he may, for example, earn his livelihood by working as a real security guard), the need to suppress the articulation of one’s feelings isn’t needed, and like the above-mentioned examples, is more destructive than productive. Health and longevity are still principle concerns, but now so are issues like a stable family life and emotional health. The man who stubbornly “sucks it up” when confronted by depression and anxiety will be functional enough to procreate, but other aspects of his life whose importance has increased in the modern era, like healthy emotional relationships with loved ones, will necessarily suffer.
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