Hold My Hand My Beautiful Brothers ~ Dispersing Cloudy Gender Perceptions

“I am not afraid of you,” my voice insists as I address a man I barely know. This happened at a place where I had been enjoying so much fun. So, it shocked me to hear the words that flew out of my mouth. A group of men had instituted a new order of pickleball rules so as to play with the more advanced players while decreasing the amount of time they spent waiting for a court to open. Many of the women were making comments about feeling controlled and bullied. 

I always try to understand a situation from both sides of the story, and bring a reasonable voice to the discussion. So, it really bothered me that I had made that snarky comment. So much so that, over the next few times I saw the man that I had blurted out my feelings to, I was able to apologize to him and gain a whole new perspective on the matter. He told me, “I love you, but I’m not going to play pickleball with women because I want to play hard and if I hit a woman with a ball, I can’t sleep at night.” Wow ~ a man with a well-developed balance of feminine and masculine attributes! Not only did he bring me perfect clarity for the situation, but my respect for what men go through skyrocketed. 

However, I knew I had inner work to do. All women have at one time or another felt the sting of subjugation in a world that still has a patriarchal hold, and I know I still struggle at times to feel valued. But this went a bit deeper for me. As a counselor I know that whenever we have a strong reaction to a situation there are subconscious issue at play. Dang ~ I thought I had already worked through all my daddy issues, but I was willing to look at what remnants were still stirring up my feelings. 

My father was a rough man with an explosive temper. I’ve forgiven him for that for I know it was passed down from his father who was a fighter pilot for the Germans in Baron von Richthofen’s squadron during WWI. Yep ~ the Red Baron that Snoopy was always shooting at was aimed at my grandpa. (Thankfully, my grandparents made it to the US before WWII). As a little girl, I had learned self-preservation by reading my father’s energy field and getting out of the way before the volcano erupted. As an adult I had to work very hard to not run away from conflict, and instead do what I can do to address it directly, and be productive. In other words, developing my male side doesn’t come easy for me and sometimes it comes out sideways ~ hence the snarky comment. 

But after the conversation I had had with the pickleball man I found myself developing a better appreciation for my father. After all, it is a wonderful masculine trait to be protective of others. In fact, there are two times in my life where my father’s rage saved me from very bad situations. Once was as a new student where a nun was going to flunk me simply because she didn’t like me. My father had great respect for the clergy, but he also knew I was a good student so he went to bat for me. Later, the music teacher at school told me that my dad had made Sister Cecelia cry. The bottom line is that without his actions I would have had to suffer the humiliation of flunking 5^th grade. The other time was when I was working all alone in a gas station at a dead-end part of town. I saw a man hiding in the tire bin as I was shutting the place down. I didn’t own a car and as I tried to briskly walk to my apartment the hair on the back of my neck stood up ~ he was following me. I made it to a Pizza Hut and called the right man for the job. My dad was an athlete and he had no trouble tracking down the stalker. He told me that he had got the guy’s driver’s license and that I was never to worry about that man bothering me ever again. I really needed my job as it was the perfect place to study for my nursing degree while making money at the same time. Thanks to my father, I never was afraid to go back to work. Decades later, I was looking to buy a new car and the salesman asked me my maiden name. When I told him, his lips turned white and an image came to my mind of the guy with the long stringy blond hair and red bandana from long ago. He went back inside the building and a new salesman came out to help me. That was one powerful impression my father had made on that man, and I’d like to think my dad saved other women from being terrified too. 

I would like to tell you that my father softened as he neared the end of his life, but it wasn’t so. Like so many people of his generation, he never got to deal with the real causes of his rage that I’m sure began in his childhood. I did thank him for both his protection and for trying to build a sense of self-esteem in me ~ things he never got from his father. He may not have had a clue what to do with a shy little girl like me, but he did try to give me genuine compliments at times. Words that I hold like gold stars in my heart. 

Hopefully, with each new generation being born on this Earth, a more balanced existence will be here for all of us. My son, looks a lot like my father and holds some traits from my paternal lineage. In fact, he served as a sergeant for the Guard and ended up in Iraq for a year. Though he doesn’t talk much about it, I know he protected both his male and female comrades with all his heart. I also know he is one of the kindest and loving people I know. 

Whether we are in a male body or a female one, may we all develop our masculine and feminine traits in healthy, balanced ways. May we honor each other’s process and progress with care and respect for each other. 

Please hold my hand my beautiful brothers. Let’s make the effort to understand and support one another!

***