MenGetPregnantToo

Men: Minivans Are an Evolution Not Emasculation

I was reading this article in the National Post about an English professor who left his career in education to pursue another as a mixed martial arts fighter.
As a metaphor to illustrate how men today are less likely to engage is risky behaviour relative to their counterparts a generation ago, the journalist wrote the following:

Much of the violence we commit is now done at arm’s length — by way of technology. Canadian soldiers charged up Vimy Ridge in 1917. Today, a drone might do the trick. The most dangerous behaviour most North American men engage in is driving a car. And there is a good chance it is a minivan, a boxy emblem of masculine decline.

I added the italics.
"...minivan, a boxy emblem of masculine decline."
I drive a minivan, so do many of my peers. 
Before I defend whether I am "in decline", I would like to ask: in decline from what? 
From the soldiers we are all supposed to be? The bar brawlers arrested after their team loses the game? The boors whose families are not to distract them from the NFL triple header on Sunday?

I disagree. As would, I feel safe assuming, the fellas at the National Fatherhood Initiative, or the Dads Groups in New York City, or Boston, or Chicago.
Or the more than one-thousand fathers who are member of our Dad Bloggers Facebook group.

It is at this point in the argument I am often told I am blowing something out of proportion, or that I'm missing the point, or that I am taking the metaphor too seriously.
But, that is the point. There are those of us for whom this argument is taken very seriously.

Modern weakness is not men driving minivans; it is men who try to hide their family vehicles from their peers, lest they be judged to be somehow emasculated.
The weakness has become being too proud to miss an NFL match in favour of the one being played on a soccer pitch by your 8-year-old's team.
The decline is represented by the words "Because I have to." which too often follow "I drive a minivan."

I love my van - not only because of its higher seating position and because it makes sense - but because of what it represents. I love listening to the doors being slid open a little more firmly than they need to be. I love watching the cartoon dust ball of schoolbags, lunch bags, and splash pants in the rear view mirror as my kids (always!) rush to get seated in the morning.

I love that my van represents for me, the evolution of who I have become. 
I have never been in a fight, and I certainly don't regret that. But, challenges? Everyday. And those challenges are made even greater by the same circumstances which necessitated an upgrade in my vehicle's cubic footage.

My van is not an emblem of masculine decline; it is a badge of honour.

Image: Miki Yoshihito via Flickr

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How Can I Change for the Better?

I write a weekly column, "Questions Parents Ask" at Lifeworks.com. I have been authoring it for nearly two years.  I thought it would be relevant to repost this particular column on my blog. 

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We are changed by multitudes of experiences; by tragedies, by relationships, and most definitely by parenting.

The irony of parenting is it demands a flexibility of spirit during those years when we become more and more assured and steadfast in our own belief systems.
We struggle to teach our children open-mindedness and the advantages of critical thinking; while we stodgy parents gradually seem to become convinced we have found the easiest way of doing almost everything.

 Inflexibility and likeability are inversely proportional.

 Our children and (for the most part) our partner will always love us…but will they always like us? Of course not. Not always. But it is important as we grow older not to lose our intellectual and emotional elasticity. Part of maintaining that flexibility – that likeability – is understanding that some things are worth capitulating to simply because they are important to somebody who is important to us.

Sharing by ryancr via Flickr

 Where (or whether) you go on vacation; altering a work schedule to be more available; being more understanding of a family member’s choice of friends (or the volume of the music blaring from their room!), are all examples of the constant adjustments and conversations which define a family’s dynamic as a being unto itself.

 Compromise is as necessary as it can be difficult, especially as age coupled with the triple role of partner, parent, and individual, combines to make you gravitate more than ever toward a need for your own space and your own sources of stress relief.

 There are very few greater gifts you can give to a family member than to demonstrate your understanding for what is important to them.

I was once told “The most interesting person in a room is the person who makes you feel like the most interesting person in a room.”

We spend a lot of time sharing rooms with our partners and our children. The challenge is to not only seem interested, but to be interested. Our relationships will inevitably change us. Being attentive to how you change can not only result in more “I love you’s” but, even more importantly, more “I like you’s.”