"Self-Made Man" a book by Norah Vincent

[Norajane]

Last night, I watched a short interview with a woman who lived life as a man for 18 months, and has written a book about the experience, Self-Made Man by Norah Vincent.

She said the thing that was hardest to handle was how much the emotional range of men is limited by society. It felt narrow and confining to her. "Men aren't allowed to express weakness or need, and when you're used to that as a woman, and it's taken away from you, it's hard to endure.". She thinks being a woman is "infinitely better."

I'm curious. Do you think men's range of emotion is limited by society? Is it feeling the emotions that is limited, or men's expression of them - as in, it's not ok to feel sad, vs. it's ok to feel sad, but you're not supposed to cry?

 

[Salvor-Hardon]

Last night, I watched a short interview with a woman who lived life as a man for 18 months, and has written a book about the experience, Self-Made Man by Norah Vincent.

She said the thing that was hardest to handle was how much the emotional range of men is limited by society. It felt narrow and confining to her. "Men aren't allowed to express weakness or need, and when you're used to that as a woman, and it's taken away from you, it's hard to endure.". She thinks being a woman is "infinitely better."

I'm curious. Do you think men's range of emotion is limited by society? Is it feeling the emotions that is limited, or men's expression of them - as in, it's not ok to feel sad, vs. it's ok to feel sad, but you're not supposed to cry?

Persoanlly I think it is the expression of feelings that is limited. We feel what we feel, and while the repression may dull the emotion over time, there is still that twinge at some level.

I am often "kidded" when I get emotional, small tears that run over certain stirring moments. I "kid back" with my song "I am a rock" by Simon and Garfunkle.

There are some emotions that are completely forbidden to express... need, helplessness, insecurity. Not just fear but fear that is a lack of strength. We all hear the "Bravery is acting inspite of your fear" but it must have action. There are times I feel overwhelmed, out of my league and would kill to have someone help me out. But being a man I press on, subtly manuevering so that the help is not seen or is seen as me still maintaining my strength.

I agree it would be infinitely better to be a woman save for the inequalities in workplaces, and cro-magnon like idiots that think they rule the world.

 

[impressive]

There are some emotions that are completely forbidden to express... need, helplessness, insecurity. Not just fear but fear that is a lack of strength.

I disagree. With the right person -- a trusted friend -- it is quite safe for a man to express the whole gamut of emotions. This, I know.

 

[ABSTRUSE]

I'm curious as to the details of this woman's 'adventure'...how old is she, where did she do this...etc? Got any more info?

 

[Norajane]

I'm curious as to the details of this woman's 'adventure'...how old is she, where did she do this...etc? Got any more info?

Unfortunately, I don't. It was just 5 minutes at the tail end of one of those cable politics shows. I do want to get the book, though, so I'll let you know what I discover.

She did talk about the urinal situation, and how wierd it is that something that's usually private is done out in the open like that. She added that men do sort of try to hide things a bit when they pee...

Are you looking at ME?!

 

[ABSTRUSE]

Unfortunately, I don't. It was just 5 minutes at the tail end of one of those cable politics shows. I do want to get the book, though, so I'll let you know what I discover.

She did talk about the urinal situation, and how wierd it is that something that's usually private is done out in the open like that. She added that men do sort of try to hide things a bit when they pee...

Are you looking at ME?!

Thank you I would love to know more, it sounds intriguing.

 

[Norajane]

There are some emotions that are completely forbidden to express... need, helplessness, insecurity. Not just fear but fear that is a lack of strength. We all hear the "Bravery is acting inspite of your fear" but it must have action. There are times I feel overwhelmed, out of my league and would kill to have someone help me out. But being a man I press on, subtly manuevering so that the help is not seen or is seen as me still maintaining my strength.

I know that men do express their vulnerabilities with trusted women in their lives. Maybe they just can't express these things to other men?

 

[impressive]

Is it feeling the emotions that is limited, or men's expression of them - as in, it's not ok to feel sad, vs. it's ok to feel sad, but you're not supposed to cry?

I suppose that depends on the man. Certainly, there exists a cultural bias towards "strong" men (i.e., ones who don't show emotional "weakness"). I adore people who are not afraid to step outside of stereotypes and be themselves -- men & women, alike.

 

[Guest]

I've read a few reviews since the book came out, not that interested in reading the whole book, but this will give you more info about both the book and its author. Btw, in one of the reviews I called to mind SubJoe's thread about his walks in the park. The author noted how liberating it felt to walk about at night as a man, vs. the usual fear and intimidation felt as herself.

Perdita
-------
'Self-Made Man: One Woman's Journey Into Manhood and Back Again,' by Norah Vincent - Review by DAVID KAMP, NYT, Jan. 22, 2006

Don't judge this book by its cover. It features two photographs of the author, Norah Vincent. In the first, she's a brassy, attractive woman with short, upswept hair and a confident smirk on her face. In the second, she's done up in man drag, with poindexter eyeglasses, a day's worth of stubble and a necktie. There's your premise in a nutshell: assertive, opinionated Vincent, best known as a contrarian columnist for The Los Angeles Times, goes undercover as a man to learn how the fellas think and act when them pesky broads ain't around. Flip the book open, and the first thing you come to is its dedication: "To my beloved wife, Lisa McNulty, who saves my life on a daily basis." Yes, ladies and gents, the author is a self-proclaimed "dyke."

But "Self-Made Man" turns out not to be what it threatens to be, a men-are-scum diatribe destined for best-seller status in the more militant alternative bookstores of Berkeley and Ann Arbor. Rather, it's a thoughtful, diligent, entertaining piece of first-person investigative journalism. Though there's plenty of humor in "Self-Made Man," Vincent - like her spiritual forebear John Howard Griffin, the white journalist who colored his skin and lived as a black man in the South for his 1961 book "Black Like Me" - treats her self-imposed assignment seriously, not as a stunt.

All that said, it was a stunt that led to Vincent's undertaking her journey into Testostoland. One night a few years ago, she explains in the first chapter, a "drag king" friend of hers dared her to dress as a man and go for a walk in New York's East Village. Vincent pasted on some false facial hair, threw on some loose jeans and a baseball cap, and spent a few hours wandering the neighborhood. With the help of the evening darkness, which concealed the shoddiness of her disguise, Vincent didn't get found out, though she admits she barely interacted with anyone. But the very fact that no one paid her any mind was a small revelation. Vincent had lived in the East Village for years. "As a woman," she writes, "you couldn't walk down those streets invisibly. You were an object of desire or at least semiprurient interest to the men who waited there, even if you weren't pretty." But in her makeshift man drag, she found that the same stoop-sitters and bodega loiterers didn't stare at her. "On the contrary," she says, "when they met my eyes they looked away immediately and concertedly and never looked back. It was astounding, the difference, the respect they showed me by not looking at me, by purposely not staring." If this halfhearted attempt at gender switching could provide such insight, imagine what a year-plus immersion in manhood might yield.

And so Norah transforms herself into Ned. Ned comes into being via a flat-top haircut, a new wardrobe of sports jackets and rugby shirts, a pair of rectangular glasses, workouts to build up the shoulders and add 15 pounds of bulk, a cupless sports bra to flatten the breasts, a convincing layer of facial stubble (made of something called wool crepe hair and applied with an adhesive called stoppelpaste) and some lessons in male speech patterns with a Juilliard voice coach. For verisimilitude, Vincent also acquires a prosthetic member from a sex shop - though, the author takes pains to explain, it's a flaccid version designed specifically for cross-dressers, not an outsize toy for bedroom kicks.

Vincent's status as a "masculine woman" abets this transformation, but the subject of her lesbianism falls away, more or less, once her adventures as Ned begin. Indeed, one of the great attributes of "Self-Made Man" is its lack of agenda or presuppositions. To be sure, Vincent's status as a woman is what makes her observations of male behavior fresh - introducing herself to some guys in a bowling league, she's touched by the ritual howyadoin', man-to-man handshake, which, "from the outside . . . had always seemed overdone to me," but from the inside strikes her as remarkably warm and inclusive, worlds away from the "fake and cold" air kisses and limp handshakes exchanged by women. But in its best moments, "Self-Made Man" transcends its premise altogether, offering not an undercover woman's take on male experience, but simply a fascinating, fly-on-the-wall look at various unglamorous male milieus that are well off the radar of most journalists and book authors.

That bowling league, for example. Norah-as-Ned commits to it for eight months, becoming the weak link on a four-man team of working-class white men. (Vincent has changed the names of the characters and obscured the locations to protect the identities of her subjects.) The resultant chapter is as tender and unpatronizing a portrait of America's "white trash" underclass as I've ever read. "They took people at face value," writes Vincent of Ned's teammates, a plumber, an appliance repairman and a construction worker. "If you did your job or held up your end, and treated them with the passing respect they accorded you, you were all right." Neither dumb lugs nor proletarian saints, Ned's bowling buddies are wont to make homophobic cracks and pay an occasional visit to a strip club, but they surprise Vincent with their lack of rage and racism, their unflagging efforts to improve Ned's atrocious bowling technique and "the absolute reverence with which they spoke about their wives," one of whom is wasting away from cancer.

Compelling in a rather different way is Vincent's account of working as a salesman for one of those shady, Mamet-ready outfits that advertise in the classifieds, offering $$$ to "high-powered" prospects, no experience necessary. Answering such an ad, Ned lands a thankless job going door-to-door selling "entertainment books" filled with coupons for discounts at local businesses. The raw, malevolent arrogance of Ned's fellow salesmen, who actually psych themselves up by shouting out such idiotic motivational acronyms as Juice (for Join Us In Creating Excitement), can't hide their desperation. Vincent scares herself when, dressed up in one of Ned's power blazers, she submits to the Juice mentality and actually succeeds at being a feral-jerk saleswolf, earning her boss's praise as "a highly motivated type a guy."

Ned's whistle-stop tour of modern manhood also takes him to a Roman Catholic monastery, a lap-dance club, a men's consciousness-raising group and on a series of awkward dates with women. (Amusingly, Vincent is utterly astounded by the amount of rejection and hauteur that heterosexual men put up with.) Conspicuously absent from "Self-Made Man," though, are men leading full, contented lives. Perhaps this is a function of the limitations of Vincent's experiment - after all, a "man" created out of thin air and stoppelpaste can't very well insinuate himself into an elegant country club or a loving nuclear family.

But the pervasive melancholy of the milieus that Ned inhabits colors Vincent's conclusions too much. She is, I dare say, too respectful of the "men's movement" instigated by the publication of Robert Bly's "Iron John" in 1990. Attending a retreat with her men's group, she's detached enough to ridicule the tribal drums and plastic swords wielded at the retreat's climactic "spirit dance," but she still buys into the movement's victimography and faux-purgatory nonsense. "I passed in a man's world not because my mask was so real, but because the world of men was a masked ball," Vincent writes. "Only in my men's group did I see these masks removed and scrutinized."

After 200-odd pages of honest and often sympathetic but never mawkish portraiture of the men in Ned's life, this folie à twaddle is a tad disappointing. But what comes before is so rich and so audacious that I'm compelled to remove my critic's mask and reveal to you the supine, unshaven male reader, hooked from Page 1.

 

[Svenskaflicka]

From what I've read, men have a hierarchic structure - the higher up you are, the more masculine and respected you are. In the old days, you got to the top by being the strongest, then it moved on through civilization by being the richest, and nowadays, it's usually about being the best talker.
He who can tell other men off, prove his points by reciting facts, and be verbally aggressive, ends up high on the food chain. Men who score low, are seen as less masculine, ergo, they are more feminine.
Women are raised to prioritize the togetherness of the group above the needs of an individual. They're encouraged to show weakness and fear, as a way of a) asking for support and affection from their fellow sisters/brothers, b) demonstrating that she's harmless, not a threat to the order, not trying to put her head above the others.

Women are taught to be emotional and weak. Strong women who dare to say their peace are feared and punished by being labelled "unfeminine".
Men are taught to be the opposite of anything feminine, ie emotionless and tough. Men who show their feelings are kicked down the pyramide and called "sissies".

 

[Norajane]

Thanks, Perdita! That's super-helpful.

 

[ABSTRUSE]

This link has a picture:

Norah/Ned

 

[Norajane]

From what I've read, men have a hierarchic structure - the higher up you are, the more masculine and respected you are. In the old days, you got to the top by being the strongest, then it moved on through civilization by being the richest, and nowadays, it's usually about being the best talker.
He who can tell other men off, prove his points by reciting facts, and be verbally aggressive, ends up high on the food chain. Men who score low, are seen as less masculine, ergo, they are more feminine.
Women are raised to prioritize the togetherness of the group above the needs of an individual. They're encouraged to show weakness and fear, as a way of a) asking for support and affection from their fellow sisters/brothers, b) demonstrating that she's harmless, not a threat to the order, not trying to put her head above the others.

Women are taught to be emotional and weak. Strong women who dare to say their peace are feared and punished by being labelled "unfeminine".
Men are taught to be the opposite of anything feminine, ie emotionless and tough. Men who show their feelings are kicked down the pyramide and called "sissies".

Do you see any of this changing? I think we're in transition - those rules for men and women still exist, but they're eroding here and there in some ways.

 

[elsol]

(Amusingly, Vincent is utterly astounded by the amount of rejection and hauteur that heterosexual men put up with.)

And she's playing the role as grown-up male... try it in high school.

Sincerely,
ElSol

 

[drksideofthemoon]

Last night, I watched a short interview with a woman who lived life as a man for 18 months, and has written a book about the experience, Self-Made Man by Norah Vincent.

She said the thing that was hardest to handle was how much the emotional range of men is limited by society. It felt narrow and confining to her. "Men aren't allowed to express weakness or need, and when you're used to that as a woman, and it's taken away from you, it's hard to endure.". She thinks being a woman is "infinitely better."

I'm curious. Do you think men's range of emotion is limited by society? Is it feeling the emotions that is limited, or men's expression of them - as in, it's not ok to feel sad, vs. it's ok to feel sad, but you're not supposed to cry?

No I dont think society limits men's emotions...while they might not show them at times, they still feel them....

If Ms. Vincent didnt feel this way, she wouldn't have much of a book to hawk would she?

Personally, I think Ms. Vincent is full of what we shovel out of the barn...

 

[R. Richard]

Women are taught to be emotional and weak. Strong women who dare to say their peace are feared and punished by being labelled "unfeminine".
Men are taught to be the opposite of anything feminine, ie emotionless and tough. Men who show their feelings are kicked down the pyramide and called "sissies".

I would politely disagree. In many situations, men are not allowed to show their emotions. I some situations, men are allowed to show SOME emotions. For instance, after a man has just kicked some guy's ass he can get in the guy's face and ask "You want more?" The emotion projected has to be, "If you do I'm gonna' kill you!!!" Of course such displays are rather crude. Myself I have always preferred the lines:
"Don't ever let me hear you again!"
"Don't ever let me see you again!"
"Don't ever let me think about you again!"
"Don't!"

All of the "don't" words are delivered at the same VOLUME. The Intensity, however, increases with each "don't." They be callin' me "Willie Green."

 

[rgraham666]

Speaking for myself, I have a very full range of emotions.

Which are very much limited by society's expectations of what a 'man' should be.

All the 'feminine' emotions are still very much looked down upon as weakness by most people. Men are pretty much limited to public displays of vicious avariciousness of one type or another. Or excessive and loud worship of some object or activity, like sports.

But it is easier than thinking or feeling.

 

[Guest]

Some of the comments above make me realize that the author, and many here it seems, are speaking more about men in the states. It's my experience that Italian and Russian men don't hide emotions so much, even those that bring tears to their eyes. I've comforted each of my brothers at various times when they 'cried like babies', none of them apologized or were embarrassed.

And yet I watched sorrowfully when I witnessed over time how my own sons "learned" to keep their tears at bay. Who taught them? Their friends, tv and other media here. Thankfully they got over that repressive phase.

Anecdotally, when my brother's Viennese step-son, aged 12 or 13, watched his fave football team lose a world cup some years ago he broke down crying hysterically. No one thought him 'girly'.

Perdita

 

[Boxlicker101]

Men in the US have emotions but they are not allowed to express many of them. For instance I remember, long before I was a teenager, being told "Big boys don't cry" or words to that effect. Girls, of course could cry all they wanted.

We were always allowed to cheer for sports teams and gloat when ours won. The actual athletes, of course, were not allowed to gloat and had to express admiration for the losers. Men still do that, usually.

Edited to add:
Showing emotion, especially crying, about a sports team losing would have been the heighth of unmanliness.

 

[Norajane]

Some of the comments above make me realize that the author, and many here it seems, are speaking more about men in the states. It's my experience that Italian and Russian men don't hide emotions so much, even those that bring tears to their eyes. I've comforted each of my brothers at various times when they 'cried like babies', none of them apologized or were embarrassed.

And yet I watched sorrowfully when I witnessed over time how my own sons "learned" to keep their tears at bay. Who taught them? Their friends, tv and other media here. Thankfully they got over that repressive phase.

Anecdotally, when my brother's Viennese step-son, aged 12 or 13, watched his fave football team lose a world cup some years ago he broke down crying hysterically. No one thought him 'girly'.

Perdita

Ah, very true! It is US centric - in my family, men show emotion and do cry, or at least well up. I remember seeing my dad tearing up as he read the newspaper if there was a story that touched him. He didn't try to hide it all. And he's one of the strongest men I know.

Maybe that's why I have so much trouble relating to many American men - they're so hard to know because of the stoic facades. It takes a while for the defences to erode.

 

[carsonshepherd]

Ah, very true! It is US centric - in my family, men show emotion and do cry, or at least well up. I remember seeing my dad tearing up as he read the newspaper if there was a story that touched him. He didn't try to hide it all. And he's one of the strongest men I know.

Maybe that's why I have so much trouble relating to many American men - they're so hard to know because of the stoic facades. It takes a while for the defences to erode.

Your story about your father made me think - my father was so very stoic, I only saw him weep once, when he was burying our dog that he had found shot dead beside the road. Seeing him cry was terrible, especially at that young age.

My brother and I are so unlike that. We were never told "Real men don't cry" but being from a stoic German family, it was just not done. The women in our family don't cry.

It was only after our dad died, and I grew older, that I had the realization that I didn't want to be like him. I didn't want to be bitter and closed off from the ones I loved. My brother and I both know that we have the tendency to be like our father if we're not careful, but we both make the effort not to be that way. I saw what happened to my father - he closed himself off to love, and he was never happy. I will never be that way.

 

[Boxlicker101]

Ah, very true! It is US centric - in my family, men show emotion and do cry, or at least well up. I remember seeing my dad tearing up as he read the newspaper if there was a story that touched him. He didn't try to hide it all. And he's one of the strongest men I know.

Maybe that's why I have so much trouble relating to many American men - they're so hard to know because of the stoic facades. It takes a while for the defences to erode.

That is just the way American men are brought up, or were brought up. This may be changing now but it is a slow process. The epitome of manliness is the stoic John Wayne, needing nobody, fearing nobody, beholden to nobody. Boys are allowed to open up to their mothers, but not so much to their gathers. Men are allowed to open up to their wives, as long as it won't make her worry about his manliness.

 

[Norajane]

Your story about your father made me think - my father was so very stoic, I only saw him weep once, when he was burying our dog that he had found shot dead beside the road. Seeing him cry was terrible, especially at that young age.

My brother and I are so unlike that. We were never told "Real men don't cry" but being from a stoic German family, it was just not done. The women in our family don't cry.

It was only after our dad died, and I grew older, that I had the realization that I didn't want to be like him. I didn't want to be bitter and closed off from the ones I loved. My brother and I both know that we have the tendency to be like our father if we're not careful, but we both make the effort not to be that way. I saw what happened to my father - he closed himself off to love, and he was never happy. I will never be that way.

Good for you, Carson. I'm sure your life is much richer for it, especially after reading your thoughts on "Why love?"

 

[Norajane]

That is just the way American men are brought up, or were brought up. This may be changing now but it is a slow process. The epitome of manliness is the stoic John Wayne, needing nobody, fearing nobody, beholden to nobody. Boys are allowed to open up to their mothers, but not so much to their gathers. Men are allowed to open up to their wives, as long as it won't make her worry about his manliness.

I have to echo Norah Vincent when I read this, Box. That would be so hard for me to endure, not having the option of turning to friends and family for support. As strong and independent as I am, I would be a basket case without being able to open up and ask for help, or just have someone listen.

 

[Rumple Foreskin]

You don't conquer, exploit and despoil an entire continent and its native inhabitants in just a few years with tears in your eyes.

"The big boys don't cry" mantra and the cult of acting "manly" were, I believe, codified in England. However, I also believe it's the norm for men, not the exception.

There's a time and place for everything. Some times and certain places are just not the best for letting your guard down and indulging in a good cry, no matter how bad you may feel. In the last fifty years, western men seem to have begun buying into to the idea that's not true 100% of the time.

Rumple Foreskin