I Cry

But really, who doesn't?

In August of 2019 I was invited to be guest writer for a day and an evening as part of a multi-day floating workshop on the Blackfoot River. The organization behind it was the Freeflow Institute, and the instructing writer who asked me to join them was David James Duncan.

We were gathered in a circle of camp chairs riverside, just past where the Clearwater dumps into the Blackfoot (we’d also just seen a mountain lion sauntering along the opposite bank in the first minutes after my arrival, a stirring presence for which I took full credit in summoning from the wilderness via my Magical Indian Powers), and DJD was preparing to read something. He started to apologize in advance for the likelihood that he might get choked up ... then stopped himself. “Why should I apologize?” he said instead.

This led to a discussion about showing raw emotion when reading our work in public. The embarrassment that comes with it ... and how foolish that is.

I know the feeling well. Like Duncan, I get very emotional when I read. I don’t think I’ve ended any reading I’ve ever done dry-eyed. Even when I don’t expect to, sometimes the waterworks come out of nowhere. I accept that it will happen but it still bothers me that it does. I tend to think it leads to better readings but it is still difficult. Because tears are a sign of softness, of weakness, right? We—men in particular—must be strong! We must be stoic in the face of hardship, emotionless!

Of course that is bullshit, but it tends to be the prevailing attitude.

I'm thinking of this for two reasons. First, a couple Culture Study newsletters ago my friend Anne Helen Petersen shared THIS PIECE by a guy called Patrick Wyman; the title of the piece is "Bro Culture, Fitness, Chivalry, and American Identity." It is outstanding in breaking down why so many dudes are influenced to be the way we are. Then just yesterday AHP posted an interview with Wyman because of the excellence of the Bro Culture piece, and it is an essential read too.

I've always tended to live on the periphery of "bro" stuff. Back in 1998 I was in Indianapolis, Indiana, and was offered tickets to see the Brickyard 400. I'm not a NASCAR fan but I went because my dad was, and I was curious. At the time it was a mostly male-dominated fanbase (maybe it still is, I don't know) but there were notable exceptions. For example, the outfit of choice for most of the women who were there tended to be, if they were busty enough, tank tops with cigarette packages tucked down into their cleavage.

Jeff Gordan was the winner that day, and as we were walking out of the speedway, two disgruntled race fan dudes behind me were having a conversation. "If it's a kick-ass, fistfight of a race, Rusty Wallace wins," one was muttering. "But if it's a p***y, f*****y kind of race, Gordon wins." I remember thinking to myself, "What the hell does that even mean."

Reflecting now, I'm guessing these two dudes would think of my readings as "p***y, f*****y" types of endeavors and would not be seen near one unless jeering from their oversized pickups.

The other reason I'm thinking of this stuff today is because yesterday I received one of the best letters I've ever received. It was from a man with a couple young kids, who has been reading my stuff for a while now. The emotion he was expressing, the hardships he speaks of taking head on, were all so raw, and so powerful, I wanted to reach across the continent and hug it out and cry it out with him, and assure him that I get it and we're going to make sure everything is going to work out.

I am fortunate to receive quite a bit of correspondence from people who read my work and I love it. I'm fortunate to have people come into the bookstore in search of me, and it isn't unusual for tears to be involved. I love that too. But for every man I hear from, there are probably eight or ten women. Enough so that I've wondered in the past if dudes just aren't into what I write.

The bro cultures I encounter most in Montana are less the stuff that Wyman is writing about but similar. Ever see a group of dudes—generally young-ish white dudes—who are clearly of the hook and bullet crowd? They all tend to look so much the same! Generally lean with a ball cap, some kind of high tech outdoorsy outfit on, often with camo, maybe a trim little beard. These guys might be Joe Rogan listeners, but they are definitely Steve Rinella listeners. Now I like Rinella, I've had opportunity to spend a decent amount of time with him at all phases of his career and he seems to have maintained his sanity. Nor is he anywhere near as loathsome as Joe Rogan to my ears, though I haven't listened in a while. But I bet he would be the first to admit there are a lot of off-putting meatheads in his audience. I'll also say that in the years when I was a fly fisherman and attended the Fly Fishing Film Festival at the Wilma Theater in Missoula, I felt way more "angry-and-ready-to-fight-because-I'm-shitfaced-on-Cold-Smoke!" energy there than I have at any metal show I've ever attended.

That's not to say all of these guys are meatheads. Of course they aren't. In the better arenas of conversation around these kinds of activities, books and reading are highlighted. So it's not like men are always being herded into boxes guaranteed to make them shittier, but how often is the expressing of hurt and sorrow and raw emotion encouraged? Why do I, as "p***y and f*****y" as any dude has ever been, feel embarrassed when I get all weepy?

Does anyone have any ideas on how we fix this? I'm curious to hear from men on this, and how you feel about showing emotion. Women too—are you as bothered by it as we men seem to be? This feels like a half-ass newsletter this week but it's a topic that comes up in my brain often, and I have zero answers to it and rarely have opportunity to discuss it....

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Random notes:

I mentioned the Freeflow Institute. They have recently launched the Freeflow Foundation, in the belief "that exceptional educational experiences should be available to every human who seeks them." They are trying to raise money to provide scholarships so that a broader range of students can attend the expensive outings the institute offers. These things aren't expensive because people are getting rich. They are expensive because it is costs a lot of money to do trips like this safely and see that the people involved in making them work get some kind of payment. So if you are looking for something a little different to help, please consider a DONATION HERE.

I mentioned a couple podcasts this week, but I have come to accept that I will never be a podcast listener, with one exception: Desert Oracle. I love it, and each week the episode is the exact length of time it takes me to drive into town. I mention it because Ken Layne, who started the whole Desert Oracle thing, has a book out. It too is called Desert Oracle and it's charming and fun and interesting and well worth your time. You can order it for yourself RIGHT HERE.

Be kind and maybe we will all survive this week-before-Christmas hellscape reasonably intact.