#When toxic men practice the martial arts

[coochiequeens]

I hope this is fake because I really don't want to to think that a gym that is so unsafe for women hasn't been shut down yet. But this guy being so oblivious is sadly believable.

Just because someone is good at something doesn't mean they are good at teaching it. So glad the commentors set him straight about him and his gym

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

What do you think of Watari? Do you think he read too many comics of Batman as a child and that's why he is willing to go that far for L? Is he just that eccentric that he dedicated his life to create the perfect detective and then created a fabric orphanage that raises more perfect detectives? Or is he another bored genius with too much money? And what do you think L thinks of him?

“I just never thought I’d meet anyone who legitimately thought he was Batman.” Naomi pointed out, “I mean, that stuff just doesn’t happen to other people, but somehow I just managed to find the one guy and…” “I don’t think I’m Batman.” L said in slight confusion as if wondering how that point even had come up. “Oh come on, now you’re just delusional.” Naomi said, “Do I really need to point this out for you?” “There’s a ninety nine percent chance that there is nothing legitimate to your argument.” “Hey, assholes, I’m right here!” Mello said trying to become the focus of the conversation once again. Naomi and L spared him a dull glance before returning to glaring at each other and continuing to pretend that Mello didn’t actually exist. “Wrong. There are many reasons why you think you’re Batman. Let’s start with Watari, tell me, doesn’t he seem an awful lot like Alfred?” Naomi placed her hands on her hips ignoring Mello’s pacing back in forth in the room like a neglected and angry puppy. “That’s rather irrelevant and somewhat racist, not all British elderly men are Alfred…” Naomi continued counting off the reasons on her fingers, “You work with the police but you never show them your face. You learned martial arts and I’m sure that if you didn’t already know that it wasn’t practical you would beat your enemies up in an elaborate costume for the good of the world. You have at least three secret identities just in case someone finds out who you really are. You built a giant building with a helicopter pad just so that you could catch one man who is you’re arch nemesis. You have your own symbol which you display to show your presence in the world. How do you not think you’re Batman?” L blinked and said, “Those were all completely necessary.”

All You Need is Love, by me, circa 2010

I'm sure other people have said as much, but I feel like you're quoting me to me, anon...

I've already given my two cents on Wammy's, the long and short of it being that it's a toxic and terrible idea that is not for the good of the children, the world, or anybody.

So... honestly, yeah, Watari's clearly really attached to this idea of the world's greatest anonymous detective to the point where he built this orphanage that destroys several children's lives while actively destroying L's life (as we have enough flashbacks to reveal that L started this when he was very young). Watari clearly does care for L, we do see signs of that, but it doesn't mean this isn't all very fucked up and that Watari--clearly is chasing a goal in this and feels this is a good turn of events.

The thing is it's not about training people to become competent detectives, even if they were adults rather than children, it's instead making these children compete so they can get a single title for a man who isn't even dead yet to ensure that this legacy of an anonymous super detective continues when... why? L can die, anyone can die, any name can die. Why not let the title of L die and let other detectives step up to fill in the gaps? Why not have the children pursue their own titles rather than L's? Why have them pursue L's title at all from a very young age when this probably won't be what they want to do with their lives when they're adults?

Why this obsession?

It's not a natural thing that Watari's set up, not in any way, and the amount of dedication involved (including personally as he's the living assistant twenty-four-seven to L) speaks to something a lot more than a bored genius.

I think Watari believes in L, the idea of L, more than L himself ever did.

As for L's thoughts on Watari (here his thoughts on Near and Mello), it's hard to say. He treats Watari like shit, but he treats everyone like shit, and we do see him have... a few moments with Watari and no more friction with the man than he does anyone else.

However, we do see things such as L more or less refusing to go along with the Wammy's scheme, despite Watari being very into it. L and Watari always interact in the roles of detective and assistant, we never see them break character despite knowing each other since L was a child. In fact, we see Watari... plying him with sweets twenty-four-seven which really begs the question of whether Watari has ever, in L's life, helped him adult in any capacity. Did you even fucking try, Watari? Or did you just feed this boy hostess snacks for twenty years?

We also see L have a much more... nuanced and passionate interaction with Light than he ever does Watari. It could be Watari's comfortable, the closest thing L has to a father, while Light is exciting and a brilliant murderer and the highlight of his career, and we do see L be even worse with the likes of Matsuda, the rest of the task force, Misa, even people he hires like Wedy, but it really does feel like L means it when he says Light is his only friend.

He clearly has an emotional attachment to Watari but... honestly, it doesn't feel like as much as he has to Light, which is a bad sign when Watari's been around since L was a child.

Basically, I land on "looks complicated, but Watari was a pretty shit father, and L doesn't seem to regard him as one". I don't think L resents him, he clearly enjoys his position and toys too much, but I do think L... thinks of him and treats him as "assistant and butler" and that's the box Watari gets to live in in L's brain.

[nysocboy]

Gemstones Episode 3.2: Kelvin's butt buddies, gay Percy, two toxic families, and a lot of soldiers

Episode 3.2 introduces Eli's estranged brother-in-law Peter Montgomery, his sons, and a disturbing super-macho mirror of Kelvin's God Squad.

Title: "But Esau Ran to Meet Him," from Genesis 33.4.  Jacob has tricked his father Isaac into giving him the inheritance.  Esau is furious and vows to kill him, so he flees.  When he returns after 20 years, Esau behaves as if he is happy to see him, but....

Stephen's abusive wife:  Stephen, who was fired as Judy's guitarist after her brothers discovered their affair, is trying to tell his wife Kristy that he was "laid off," not fired.  She doesn't buy it.  It's a highly abusive relationship: she calls him "an unemployed, cokehead piece of shit who sulks all day."  He screams "Fuck you!", and she hits him with a glass blender.  Shattered glass all over his face and head, in front of the kids!  Whoa, scary.The Gemstones and their partners argue, but they never use abusive language or physical violence.  Except for the time that Amber shot Jesse in the butt. 

Later, Judy meets Stephen at Spanky's Cafe, a real restaurant in North Charleston, and offers him $10,000 to leave her alone: "I don't want to see you no' mo'."  But he still wants her.  Judy points out that he's married, but it doesn't matter: "I'd leave my family in a second if I could have you.  I'd murder them." Say what?  This guy is a psycho. Of course, he should leave his abusive wife, but murder her...and the kids?

Kelvin's Butt Buddies:  Jesse and Amber's adult son Gideon, who moved to California to become a stuntman, is back, lying on the veranda in a bathrobe, smoking a cigarette, holding a box of Lucky Charms cereal, and sulking.  The background song by Buddy Knox tells us: "I think I'm going to kill myself."  He injured his neck, and may never do stunt work, tumbling, or martial arts again.  At least he's displaying a nice chest.

In a much, much nicer parallel to the Stephen-Mandy confrontation, Gideon's parents order him to stop feeling sorry for himself, get off his butt, and go to work for the church.  But he doesn't want to preach.  Ok, so he can become Eli's driver. Remember that the long-term driver, Walker, was fired.

We cut to Gideon on his first assignment, driving Eli and the siblings to see if May-May's kids are ok.  They are living with her estranged husband, Peter Montgomery, and his militia, the Brotherhood of Tomorrow's Fires: they expect end of civilization, like Eli's Y2K scare back in 1999.   Eli calles them preppers: "They want to make sure they don't run out of toilet paper."

On the way to the compound, at the defunct Boy Scout Camp Wooden Feather, the siblings discuss their cousins, Karl and Chuck.  Kelvin says that he always found them "kind of dumb and strange."  But you haven't seen them since 2000, when you were ten or eleven.  How much do you remember?

Judy: "That's why I'm surprised you weren't butt buddies with them."  

He gets annoyed, not because she alludes to him being gay but because she implied that he's also "dumb and strange," and therefore perfect for the Montgomerys.

Not the God Squad:  Bizarre signs like "Now we will see" greet the family, along with multiple armed guards.  They pass Jacob (Stephen Louis Grush) cutting up a deer.  Kelvin smiles at him -- think he's hot, buddy?.  Then a military-style obstacle course;  guys practicing martial arts; a guy taking a shower outdoors (no beefcake); and finally the mess hall, where about thirty militia men are having lunch.

Wait -- no women and children?  The actual far-right militia movement has many female participants, but this is a male-only space, like Kelvin's God Squad in Season 2, but with scruffy guys in military fatigues instead of flexing musclemen.  It is dedicated to phileo instead of eros, buddy-bonding instead of homoerotic desire. An article on Doomsday Preppers notes that these male-only groups "cultivate a dangerous vision of apocalyptic manhood that consummates a fantasy of national virility in the demise of feminine society."  Women are weak and fragile, their civilization doomed. Only the "manly love of comrades" can survive the Apocalypse. 

May-May's son Chuck ushers Eli and the siblings in. They are greeted by Cousin Karl (Robert Oberst), who is delighted to see them; and Uncle Peter (Steve Zahn, below), who is not.  It's time for church, so get out!  No, the siblings offer to help lead the service: Jesse will preach, Judy will sing, and Kelvin will  perform some "feats of strength" for the kids -- the only time he references his muscles during the season.  No kids around, but maybe the militia guys would like to see some masculine beauty.  

Uncle Peter rejects the siblings' offer.  They are "phony fakers," entertainers, interested in making money rather than saving souls. 

Kelvin's Gay Friend: At the Salvation Center, Jesse, Kelvin, and designer Percy (Aaron Goldenberg) are going over the plans for the new executive boardroom. Percy has a gay-stereotyped name and occupation, so we can safely identify him as gay.

Background Alert: Aaron Goldenberg and Jake Jonez' video sketches, with the Mean Gays invading your dinner party, rejecting you as a hookup, and so on, have gone viral, with upwards of 35 million views across social media platforms.  In 2024, they "invaded" the Razzie Awards, giving them a national spotlight.

Back in the board room, Kelvin lays on the campy behavior and criticizes Judy's choice of color scheme,  becoming a hip-wiggling, eye-rolling, sassy Queer Eye for the Straight Guy host. He has been swishing like a Mean Gay all season, making sure that anyone who talks to him for a moment will figure "it" out.

When Martin comes in to tell them about a meeting with the Board of Ministers, Jesse orders Percy to "get the f* out," but Kelvin says goodbye nicely, while fiddling with his "wedding ring."   Why is Kelvin being nice to him?  In universe, he recognizes another gay person.  Structurally, we learn that Kelvin has gay friends.  He and Keefe are closeted, but not isolated: they are participating in the local LGBT community. 

Gaslighting BJ:  The siblings visit Eli at his fishing cabin to reveal that the Board of Ministers is "disgruntled," unhappy with how they are running the church.  But Eli refuses help: he won't always be around, and they have to learn to work together to solve their problems.   

Then Judy and BJ's Date Night: they leave the theater, discussing how cool it was to go to a movie and throw popcorn at people's heads.  "Lately we haven't been on the same page," Judy comments.  BJ doesn't know what she's talking about, so she digs herself in deeper, claiming that they were "on a break" when she was on tour.  Uh-oh, when you are on a break, you can see other people.

When he protests, she gaslights him, claiming that he said it.  Manipulative, but not nearly as crazy as last season's Judy.

Where's Keefe?  Judy/BJ and Kelvin/Keefe scenes almost always run parallel, so we should see the guys having marital problems immediately before or after Judy gaslights BJ.  But Keefe does not appear in this episode; we see Kelvin swishing it up in the board room instead.  This suggests that Kelvin's conflict is not with Keefe, but rather with his new position of authority.  It's one thing to be obviously gay while doing low prestige, nearly invisible jobs, and quite another to be gay while running the church.

Peter is Bat Shit Crazy:  Time for church in the militia compound. While the men sing "Power in the Blood." the feds raid!  Guys are being grabbed, assaulted, even shot and killed!   Cousins Karl and Chuck manage to escape, even though the guy in front of them is grabbed.

They  run to the "safe house":  a middle-aged women is sitting on a chair in the woods, making a sandwich while half-naked kids frolick. It is a surreal scene.  Who is she?  A militia man's wife?  A nature spirit?  The guardian of the underworld? She wordlessly points to a nearby cabin where ten or twelve militia guys have gathered, and we return to ordinary time.

Peter wants to know who alerted the feds -- the Gemstones?  And why did Karl and Chuck invite them in the first place?  Are they traitors? 

"No, Mama invited the Gemstones.  We had nothing to do with it." 

Peter doesn't believe them.  To get them to confess, he cuts part of Jacob's ear off!  Karl intervenes, and Peter orders his men to get him.  The Cousins run. Whoa, is he planning to disfigure his children?  This is even more toxic that Stephen-Kristy, like Kelvin's tyrannical rule of the God Squad times a thousand. 

Cut to Gideon driving Eli to a cheap motel, where Chuck, Karl, and May-May are hiding.  Peter is gunning for them -- and for the Gemstones.  His goons are parked right outside. So you ask Eli to come to your hotel and get spotted by the goons? Good thinking, Sis.  

The Shoe-Throwing Match: The Board of Ministers, representing every area of church administration, from finance to end-of-life services, want to know the siblings' plan for handling the declining membership.  They can't think of anything except an impromptu catch phrase, "We three and thee." You were notified of this meeting far in advance, plenty of time to think of a plan.  The meeting devolves into a shoe-throwing fight.  Kelvin continues to promote femme-gay behavior by wearing a glittery vest. 

Meanwhile, Eli agrees to hide the Montgomery Boys in his mansion.  To escape Peter's goons,  Gideon has do some fancy stunt driving, crash a few cars, plow through a golf course, and slam on the brakes to make his assailants crash into each other -- just below a "were you injured at work?" ambulance-chaser billboard.  The end.

Work problems, marital problems, and now a militia gunning for them.  The siblings are spiraling! 

The full review, with explicit soldier photos , is on RG Beefcake and Boyfriends

[talvin-muircastle]

Am I Queer? It’s Controversial.

This is going to be long, and it’s going to cover a lot of ground, so please bear with me.  

Recently, this article came to my attention:

https://www.healthline.com/health/gender-nonconforming

I have spent a fair amount of time questioning my own sexuality/identity, and having it questioned by others.  Now approaching five full decades of life, I feel comfortable saying:

I identify as Male, and Straight.

I am Gender Non-Conforming by the standards of the culture I come from.

But I am not comfortable saying this qualifies me as “Queer” or otherwise under LGBTQIA+.   

That article (which is by no means the Last Word on the subject) identifies several areas where I do not conform to my AMAB status as culturally defined:

I have long hair.  But I also have a thick beard and moustache, and I like that combination.  Still, I grew up in a place where long hair on a guy meant you were A) Queer or B) into Heavy Metal.   Even though my teen years saw me sporting a military-style buzzcut more often than not, I tended to hang out with the Metalheads.  My long hair continues to be a point of contention with my conservative relatives and in-laws.   Some of them think I am a Hippie, which is funny because I am allergic to Cannabis.  Wanna watch me fight for breath and puke?  Blow weed smoke in my face.  

I am a Stay-At-Home Dad and Homemaker.  I have been the breadwinner for this family, but that is not part of my identity.  I am quite content to let my wife handle that part of things, and so is she.  I have been a Dad longer than I have been a father, in fact:  for most of my life I have been mentoring teenagers that find their way to me seeking advice, comfort, acceptance, and guidance.    I spent a lot of time worrying about what career should I follow, and it took me far too long to understand and accept that Dad was what I was after.  A woman seeking motherhood as a career is validated, a man seeking fatherhood in the same context is not conforming.  

When I was younger, I got hit with one hell of a double-standard: while wanting to be a Dad as a goal is not acceptable, I was supposed to go out there and sow my wild oats.  OK, I wasn’t really supposed to get girls pregnant, but I was supposed to try.  Wait, what? Try that again?  OK, if you were a teenaged boy in the 80s and 90s and I am pretty sure before that (not sure after, AIDS changed a lot of thinking all around), you were not supposed to get a girl pregnant, but you were supposed to make an attempt as often as possible, in fact you were supposed to score but fail.  If you are confused, don’t feel bad: I was living steeped in this paradox 24/7/365 and came out of it real confused.

Meanwhile, I was looking for a long-term, meaningful relationship with a woman who could be a partner in my life, and avoiding the one-night stands I was supposed to be after according to the standards of my culture, and so many of the people around me—parents, teachers, peers—decided that I must be Queer.  And that was Not A Good Classification To Find Yourself In in Rural Tennessee of the 80’s and 90’s.   Lacking real support, I entered adulthood like a trainwreck still skidding down the tracks, confused as hell and desperately trying to please people whose opinions mattered to me far more than they should.  I did finally find that relationship, and we celebrate 21 years of marriage this month.  Meanwhile I can’t keep track of who has gotten divorced and remarried from that crowd anymore.   

I am not a fan of American Football.  (I am not a fan of soccer, which is football to the rest of the world, but that’s not going to get you labeled Queer in the USA as yet.)   Even so, I got recruited to be the Football Manager for my high school football team, and then I spent several years studying to be an Athletic Trainer in college as an add-on to my English and Education degree.  The fact that I spent 7 years of my life on the sidelines of football games (and basketball, and baseball) and still do not really understand the rules of those sports should have been a clear sign to me that I was trying to conform and failing badly.  An American Male of my generation is supposed to like these things, he is supposed to scream at the television or scream from the stands when watching a game, he is supposed to have a Favorite Team and Wear Their Stuff.

Yeah, that’s not me.  I don’t like combative sports.  I like things that involve grace, beauty, and art.   Figure skating (either gender, singles, but especially pairs) is fun to watch.  The more artistic of gymnastics events are nice (uneven bars and vault are kinda boring, but I love watching floor exercise.)  Watching someone do tricks on a skateboard is more interesting to me than an MMA bout.  I enjoy the art of it.   I used to watch WWF Wrestling as a kid, but I found I enjoyed the “story” more than the violence.  Martial arts practice that is done like a dance is more interesting than watching two people try to kick each other in the face for real.   

I’m told I am supposed to like these things.  I am told that not liking them makes me less masculine.  

This extends into online gaming as well.  Oh, I like some combat games.  We aren’t going to talk about how many hours I have played the XCOM series.  But…I don’t like PVP or multiplayer. I like the story arc, and accomplishing things.  Minecraft?  I like building, and killing mobs is very secondary to that.  In single-player I usually just go peaceful mode and explore the world, build grand railways and tunnels, create comfortable houses or make a home under a lake with a glass roof under the water.  In World of Warcraft I spent more time exploring the world and getting cool screenshots than worrying about getting Phat Loot and XP.  I would take a whole afternoon just to escort a couple of new players through dangerous territory so they could find their friends.  

I have gotten a lot of grief over that.  I am supposed to go out and kill kill kill stab stab stab get the loot!  

And I am supposed to get more than the other person.  It’s competition.  Men are supposed to compete.  And if you can’t get more than the other guy you go dump buckets of lava on his house and laugh at the noob.  

I hate that.  

By the standards I was raised with, I am gender nonconforming.  I most definitely do not conform to the expectations that were laid upon me from my youth.

Does that make me Queer?   I am not comfortable claiming that.

The standards I was held to can also be considered Toxic Masculinity.  They hold that Queer==Less Of A Man.  “Queer” is not “Less.”  I was raised to think it is, but I have learned, and grown, and I know that it is not.  I also do not accept that I, myself, am Less.  The very premise of me being labeled Queer by those people is wrong on all counts.   I am different. I have always known that.  I believe that “Man” and “Male” can encompass more than violence, bullying, and competition.  I also know full well that many who identify as “Woman” and “Female” embrace those as ideals as well.  

I am no stranger to violence.  My life has often been violent.  I have fought off muggers who were armed with knives, I have stared down the barrel of a gun, I have been beaten because someone else wanted to establish himself as the dominant male in our school just after he moved there.  I am not a pacifist: the only reason I have not killed another human being in self-defense is because I was outnumbered.   I just don’t feel that defines my gender, and I have been told it should.  I fight to survive and to protect others, not to prove that I can.  

Others who look like me are guarding statues of Columbus with their Assault Rifles because they feel their masculinity is threatened.  This is another area where I do not conform to my expected gender roles.   Not only do I not feel my masculinity is threatened by BLM, or Pride, or the existence of Trans folks, I no longer feel my masculinity can be threatened.  I spent so many years under attack from “my” side, and gotten so much support from “their” side, that I now understand that my gender is not about what THEY think.  It is MY identity. I OWN it.  I am who I am regardless of their perception of me. Nothing someone else does can take that from me. 

And if anything about me is Queer, it is that: the understanding that my identity belongs to me and not to those who seek to mislabel me.  

I have been told by some in the Queer community that I am welcome among them, and I am grateful for that.  So, so many of my stories can be prefaced with, “There I was, the only Straight Guy in the room, when:”  I am proud to be an Ally.  

But calling myself Queer?  I’m not comfortable doing that.  I could, and I know some who would accept it.  But I feel it is more important to me to break the toxic definition of Masculinity and show that things like nurturing, caring, creating, dancing, loving, uplifting, and oh yes parenting, these ARE Male Qualities, always have been, and should always be.   No criticism of GNC folks who take the Queer label intended or implied: they are not Less, they own their own identity, they are valid.   They are themselves, and have a right to be. 

I am me.

I am a Man.

I will never be the Man they wanted me to be, and I am PROUD of that. 

Happy Pride Month.  

Don’t let the bastards get you down.

[drawing-way-outside-the-lines]

Odette Coraline Lupei. *Supporting Character.

Voice Claim: (Rachael Ray) https://youtu.be/OC20UF4fX8w?t=1m

Partner(s): Ronan (Married) Parents: Akin and Evan.    Kids: None.   Other family members: The Cullman, Shaw and Thompson family. The Lupei clan, the McKinney brothers, Daniel, her (non biological) siblings; Willow, Lina, Oscar, Sam and her twin brother Felix. Age: Immortal, but translates into late 20′s. Birthday: June 20th. Height: 170cm Body type: Skinny.     Eye color: Very light blue and pink.   Classification: (Immortal) Shapeshifter —-> wolf and crow. Witch. She’s also a Distorter (A magic user who specializes in (or practices only) manipulating reality, and/or creating physical phenomena)

About: ~ Outgoing, easygoing, loyal, very honest to the point of irritating people, kind, helpful, good sense of humor, sarcastic, free spirit, brave, confident, spiritual, caring, considerate, elegant, graceful, protective, intelligent, loving, patient, romantic, classy, brave, creative, warm and earthy. ~ Straight.   ~ Has long black silky hair ~ Her name was chosen by herself when she was a toddler. Later as a teen she added Coraline, after watching the movie of the same name. ~ Is very close to her twin broter, Felix and to her “half sister” Willow, and used to live with both of them at the Harbor of Boroughsburg/NY. ~ Moved in with her husband Ronan, after marrying him on the 25th of December 2020. ~ Reincarnation of Akin and Evan’s kids through time. ~ Pretty skilled at fencing. ~ Pretty skilled in archery.   ~ Very good in several martial arts.  ~ Very talented witch. ~ Takes being part of the Lupei clan very serious, and is very proud of her roots. ~ Half Romanian Gypsy. ~ Wants to become one of the most powerful females in the Lupei clan. ~ Very strong personality and she does not back down for anyone she doesn’t want to back down for. ~ Is most definitely into older men, as she dislikes boys her own age, and takes great distance to them. ~ Is a nurse. ~ Smells like: Herbs or incense, and if she wears perfume it’s most likely something on the luxurious side, such as: Serge Lutens - Un bois Vanille, Serge Lutens - Feminite Du Bois, Christian Dior - Dolce Vita, Chanel - Coco Noir, Christian Dior - Midnight Poison, Versace - Crystal Noir,  or Anastasia Denisenkova - Spicy ~ Is often called Odie by her siblings. ~ Is a really good cook ~ Loves her parents, siblings and other family members, Ronan, shifting into wolf form, running wild in the woods with Akin, everything that has to do with medieval times, learning/creating new spells, the moon, pizza, junk food, surfing, diving, hiking, flying in her crow form, candles, herbs, tea, red wine, old books, old libraries, anything Victorian, Italian and French food, gardening, nature, rain, thunder, hiking, the sea/beach, crystals/gemstones, chess, cooking, Tiramisu, bubble baths, reptiles, bonfires and horror movies.  ~ Her style is very Gothic/Victorian/Elegant/Witch, although she also dresses more modern. ~ Spends most of her time with the Lupei or McKinney clan, very involved in her training, or in nature/witchy stuff.   Odette’s tag Odette’s house/home Odette’s moodboard Handwriting/ask answer pic:

One gif to describe her:

One song to describe her: Ben Howard - Old Pine Personal playlist: 1. Norah Jones - The Prettiest Thing 2. Hozier - From Eden 3. A Perfect Circle - The Hollow 4. Apocalyptica - 'Bittersweet' feat. Lauri Ylönen & Ville Valo 5. Holly McNarland - In The Air Tonight 6. Pantera - Walk 7. Rob Zombie - Living Dead Girl 8. Serj Tankian - Harakiri 9. Oh Wonder - Without You 10. Lola Marsh - You're Mine 11. Daughter - Shallows 12. System Of A Down - Chop Suey! 13. Nina Simone - I Put A Spell On You 14. London Grammar - Nightcall 15. Trees of Eternity: The Eye of Night 16. Damien Rice - The Blower's Daughter 17. Ruelle ft. Fleurie - Carry You 18. Madrugada - Shine 19. Yael Naim -Toxic 20. Angus & Julia Stone ~ Wherever You Are 21. Cocoon, Lola Marsh - I Got You 22. Agnes Obel - The Curse (Berlin Live Session) 23. Ben Howard - Promise 24. Scorpions - Wind Of Change 25. Norah Jones - Nightingale

[comicweek]

Kill a Man OGN / $17.99 / 128 pages / Color / On sale 6.3.2020

Writers: Steve Orlando & Phillip Kennedy Johnson Artist and colorist: Al Morgan Letterer: Jim Campbell Cover: Al Morgan Publishers:  AfterShock Comics

As a child, James Bellyi watched his father die in the ring as payback for slurs thrown at the other fighter. Today, he’s a Mixed Martial Arts star at the top of his game, and one of the most popular fighters in the world…until he’s outed as gay in his title shot press conference.

Abandoned overnight by his training camp, his endorsements, his fans and his sport, to regain his title shot Bellyi is forced to turn to the last person he ever wants to see again: Xavier Mayne, a gay, once-great fighter in his own right…and the man James once watched kill his father.

A singular achievement from writers Steve Orlando (Martian Manhunter, DEAD KINGS) and Phillip K. Johnson (Aquaman, Adventure Time, The Last Time) with art from Alec Morgan (Midnighter, Daredevil, Battlestar Galactica).

What can readers find in this story that they won’t see anywhere else?

Steve Orlando: The better question is what moments are in this book that “aren’t” the first of their kind. Yes, we’ve seen combat sports narratives before. Yes, we’ve seen coming out and LGBTQ+ struggle narratives before. But a gay lead has never been allowed to be the star of this type of underdog, combat sports narrative before. Every time PKJ and I work on the book, I’m inevitably texting him about how this moment or that moment is something that’s never been put to page before. So that’s KILL A MAN, that’s what you’re getting, a first of its kind take on the intersection of MMA and LGBTQ+ life. It’s raw, it’s real, it’s gut wrenching at times because the two worlds don’t meld easily, and that’s the point. This is about overcoming.

In KILL A MAN, readers get some of the most authentic MMA action ever put to page, and some of the most honest moments ever laid out about queer acceptance, shame, pride, and victory.

Phillip Kennedy Johnson: Kill A Man is a story of LGBTQ+ identity and struggle, co-written by one of the leading voices in that community, Steve Orlando. It’s also a story about the Mixed Martial Arts scene, co-written by me and illustrated by Alec Morgan, both of us MMA practitioners. Readers will see authentic LGBTQ+ culture and fight culture joined in the same story and embodied within the same characters.

I don’t think MMA culture has kept up with progress in its attitude towards the queer community, specifically towards gay men. As an MMA superfan, seeing a top MMA contender outed as gay before his rightful title shot and fighting his way back is a pretty fascinating story, one I would want to read for sure. And it’s DEFINITELY not a story you’re going to read anywhere else right now, which is one reason my co-creators and I are so passionate about telling it.

Will this project appeal to fans of mixed martial arts who aren’t otherwise fans of comics?

Steve Orlando: We hope so! The entire creative team are MMA fans, but beyond that, both PKJ and Alec Morgan train MMA as part of their fitness routine. It’s vital to us to not just present a gripping, groundbreaking story but also provide an unflinching and authentic look at the MMA world for all its ups and downs. This isn’t sugar coated, it’s every bit as triumphant and toxic, petty and perilous, exciting and eccentric as the modern fight world is outside our window. The talk, and the action, is as real as it gets when it comes to the telling on the page, and we’re extremely proud of that.

Phillip Kennedy Johnson: There just aren’t many books about MMA on the comic shelves right now, which continues to mystify me… it’s the most dynamic and exciting sport on Earth, practiced by some of the most driven, dedicated, and gifted athletes in history, and Kill A Man reflects that. Of course, it’s crucial that every LGBTQ+ reader who picks up the story recognizes that it comes from a true perspective, but it was also hugely important to me that every MMA fan recognizes the fights as being written and illustrated by creators who know the fight game. The creators of Kill A Man are real fans and practitioners, and it’s all on the page, both in the fights and in the behind-the-scenes aspects of the mixed martial arts industry.

This feels like a story about mentorship—what do you think sets it apart from other stories with similar themes, like Rocky, for example?

Steve Orlando: For one thing, that’s a torch we want to carry. We want to GIVE the ROCKY-type narrative to the LGBTQ+ community and say, loudly and unflinching, that WE TOO deserve a hero that overcomes, goes the distance, and finds victory on their own terms. But beyond that, there is an added level of drama compared to films like ROCKY, due to the homage we pay to boxer Emile Griffith. Griffith killed a bigoted opponent in the ring, and a similar thing happens here with Xavier Mayne. So when it’s HIM that’s the outed hero’s last hope to train, we reach a level of drama never seen in those previous mentorship films. KILL A MAN is CREED if, instead of Rocky, Adonis had no choice but to go to Ivan Drago to train…and no choice but to work out the intense personal drama of working with a man who killed your father.

Phillip Kennedy Johnson: Kill A Man is definitely part of the Rocky/Creed tradition, but the dynamic between main characters James Bellyi and Xavier Mayne starts from a completely different place from anything we’ve seen in those other stories. Mayne represents the old guard of the MMA tradition, one of the original pioneers of the sport…a gay man whose career started to go wrong when he beat a bigot to death in the ring. Then, a generation later, the dead man’s son grows up to be James Bellyi, a legit MMA superstar who gets outed as gay leading up to his title shot. Bellyi begrudgingly turns to Xavier Mayne, the man he grew up hating, to train him, setting up one of the most complicated and fascinating relationships we’ve seen in a coming-of-age story, one I’m honored to have a part in telling.

[survivalarts]

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[lost-in-transition]

short story: deathclocked

CN: This is something new for the blog, a piece of actual fiction. I was inspired. I am not actually a blonde ex-Polish trans hitwoman.

*

I strike at his throat with knuckled fist. I move the arm up to block, programming the motion before even it has a chance to happen. I'll also step aside and put my knee between his legs. Then either head butt him or bring my elbow down in his face. I don't know yet. As a child, I never ever fought. The thought of striking back was worse. It would have made me like them, and even then I knew I feared that. Better to run away, or else to let them. They wanted me to strike back, I know that now. If I had, they would have known I was like them, and we would have been friends. And I would have been something worse than being the nothing that I was. In a sense, they were so persistent because they were concerned for me, and perhaps scared as well - my existence as an oddity raised the potential things could have been different for them, too. We all fear the thought we might not be who and what we need to be, and it drives hatred of the strange all too often.

Ironic then that now I fight so effortlessly. It does not feel like aggression. It feels like stretching out. It feels like singing out loud. I miss that very much, but as time went by, it became less and less comfortable to hear myself, especially resonating in skull. Practicing martial arts, any kind, feels freeing. I feel present and moving and unbound by everything else. I decide my movement beforehand and execute it. If I am struck, I will be hurt, and accepting that makes it something I am not afraid of. In the training ring I don't feel or express anger, and my training mates accept that. When I fight for real, like now, they don't expect me to strike. In some ways, that is the point. It is because they don't expect it that I feel at peace being the one initiating. And ending it.

The man in front of me, I think of him as Boss Man, he wears sports gear slick enough for clubbing and laid back enough no-one will think he is gay or anything. God forbid. Sweatpants showing boxers. Tattoos, expensive wrist watch. He didn't have to queue to get into this club, which already sets him apart from 999 of 1000 people anywhere. There are several ways in which each of us stand out so. He and I share some, including, for me in recent years at least, spending significant time in the company of organized criminals. Boss Man is a criminal organizer, and I can only imagine this is why he passed the doorman directly whereas I stood in line. This place started as a gay club and in many ways still is, men give each other blow jobs among the smoky labyrinths that are the chill out area, the beat of a DJ I don't recognize but do like there in the background like a storm. Boss Man is the type of the leather bear doorman no more than I am in my skimpy sundress, but either he has the money or the fear capital from being a known gang leader that he gets in anyway. Even so, he still passes through the coat check, which means he has no weapon tonight and no body armour. Otherwise typically he does, and this is why I planned to take him down in here tonight. I too am unarmed, but as I now set out to demonstrate, this need not mean much.

I got close enough in the otherwise empty passage, so that first strike goes fine. He staggers, but he's been boxing; now he goes back and into something like stance. He'll strike next. Or will he? He backs up and stares at me. I followed him in here, when he was going to snort or inject I assume, or make a phone call. But when I did, he leered at me, smiling as I approached. Maybe he had not expected to, but he was fine with it, up until the point where I struck. There's enough of a code that he saw my following him as safe. It's what a girl would do if she was aware of his status and wanted him to share something of his - drugs, kisses, cock, recognition in some circles, though I don't know exactly which one. This city has several separate gang environments and they are not all hanging out. "My" criminals are part of other networks than his are. More to the point, "my" criminals live in little circles of salt surrounding a few people who also post on TOR-accessible truly anonymous forums.

Boss Man is an awful person. I know this because I read some of the police reports on things that happened with some girls who spent some time with him. None went to trial, and a few years back they stopped coming because none of them would risk filing one. This isn't why I'm here seeking him out. I'm not a vigilante, I just checked that before I decided to pursue the contract on him. Back in the old days, there were brokers who could connect clients and contract killers anonymously, for a cut. Apparently. They still exist, now they too are on the dark net. It works like a betting service, using crypto currencies and everything. Someone puts out a contract on a mark by anonymously depositing the prize with the broker. The broker verifies the money is legit and makes a bet on when the mark will die. Whoever comes closest wins the money, also anonymously. In theory someone could "kill steal" if they witness a contract killing, but the system works well enough. I was spending a lot of time on the dark web.

This also means that in principle a mark can know there's a contract on them. But in reality, most people where some shadowy figure want them dead will be just like Boss Man, a career criminal who is not all that computer savvy but rather very invested in his offline social network. I have no idea who wants him dead, I just looked into him enough to see if it was at all possible, and also on whether he has any redeeming traits that would make me feel guilty for it. I've cashed in contracts on people who were not gangsters too, some domestic abusers mostly. Still no idea on the client. Boss Man is just always paranoid, when on the streets he has a gun. His driver keeps that for him now I guess. If I guess closest for when he's dead, that's about 40K worth of bitcoins. The call was out for six months already. So either there aren't so many assassins around who'd take it, or some did and failed for whatever reason. I've tried and given up with several marks, sometimes others got them later. No idea on which other, either. I don't think I know any other contract killers, but then again, would I even know?

The thought strikes me that I should make a smartwatch app that bets on my time of death should my pulse stop, in case I find anyone contracting me. That way at least my death can be my own kill. But honestly, if my actual identity ended up there, something already is wrong. No one should know who I am. Heh. They'd have to use my deadname, since the road to a legal name change in my country of citizenship is... long. How fucking appropriate. Ha ha. Like cancer, fun for the whole family. I literally would have to sue my parents, which means I'd have to meet them again. It's been seven years now. They're still around in Krakow, I know, and my little brother hasn't moved out yet. He and I still talk every now and then. I wonder how he's going to make it.

Boss Man isn't going to shout, is he? Not that it makes all that much difference in this loud environment. No. He needs to do this himself or he'll lose face. He stares at me incredulously, already pretty coked up I guess, and leaps at me, all 95 kilo of muscle and bone and Axe bodyspray. I'm in the motion, I sidestep and rotate. Detachedly, I wonder again what precisely is wrong with me. I don't think I'm a sociopath. Is that even possible for me? If I were then surely I wouldn't have all these social anxieties, or feelings of inadequacy, and I wouldn't end up crying over youtube clips where little ugly fruits find other little ugly fruit friends. I do have empathy, for all that everyone tried to grind it out of me, growing up. I couldn't cry for years and years, it took me doubling the recommended dosage to get there finally. Now, it's not so much a matter on if something will make me cry, but when. I used to simply be unable. Now I cannot decide the "if", but I can delay it if I have to. There has to be something that I'm processing here though, it can't be just for the money. Maybe I'm processing my feelings of being an outsider by ensuring I must always be, that there is (yet another?) thing in my life that no-one ever will understand? Some sort of reaction formation? Or am I an adrenaline junkie?

"What the... fucking bitch! Fucking cunt!" he exclaims, slamming against the wall. I swing my fist at the back of Boss Man's head but he's already turned back and lifted a meaty arm for blocking. He has a tattoo of an eagle. He's in stance now. No more surprises.

He stares at me. With a sickening dread my guts recognize that look before my brain does. I shiver. He blinks. "What the fuck? You're a fucking man in a dress? A fucking tranny faggot?" Boss Man laughs. "That's why you fight like that. No fucking real girl could land a hit like that on me! Fuck! I can see it now, look at you, full of makeup and shit. But you've got balls, right? Show me you've got balls, man!" He takes fighting stance again, like he's challenging me. He smiles like a maniac. I'm staggering. It's like I'm split in two pictures like with those old 3D images, floating in different directions, none of them me. I can't sense my body, but it's like I see it from the outside. Tall, flat-chested. Tuck isn't perfect, is it? And I'm blonde, so plenty of electrolysis left before any kind of smoothness. Would any cis woman do contract killings like this? He's implying that, isn't he? That only someone incurably steeped in toxic masculinity would be a... a... hitman.

This is so dangerous, I know it. It feels like those times after meeting that support group when I couldn't stop idly thinking as the train approached the platform that it would be so easy to solve everything by just stepping in front. One part of me is deep in, one is detached. Neither really cares how this goes, right now. Am I angry with him? No way to tell. The important thing is, how dangerous to my beliefs about my identity are these implications? And are those just beliefs? He clocked me in a dark club corridor without me even speaking, so that horrible voice I have isn't it. What's wrong with me? I feel like I'm already dead. A waterlogged corpse having rotted, the bones move through soft flesh-mud. I freeze.

Boss man knocks me over and I feel a sharp pain as I hit the floor. Only luck it was not head first. Then again, if that damn head with it's fucking brow ridge and big nose cracked like a melon, then it would be over. He's on top of me. "What the fuck is this about, you little faggot? Huh? Did you really think you could fool me, you fucking ugly little cocksucker bitch?" I know it's over. I won't have to worry again on whether I'm actually just a sad, misandrist failure of a man, someone who still ticks off all the boxes of male stereotype and socialization. It'll be like with the train. Eventually it will all be over. Pain for a while. But only one outcome. It will be over.

He puts his hand on my left breast and there's another look of surprise on his face. Then his mouth is at the side of my neck. I feel rough, raspy stubble and smell the sour musk of his sweat and breath. He bites my neck hard and grunts. I feel his cock quickly growing hard against my thigh. Another rough hand moves up my thigh. He has to make sure now. The smell, I can't let it go. I remember my old training clothes. Four years ago? Before HRT. I used to smell like this. There is sausage on his breath, and beer. The stubble. When my hands had eczemas because I didn't moisturize, and they itched, I would scratch them against the stubble of the cheek of the body that I was in. The skin would eventually blister and bleed and get sticky, and it would hurt more and longer.

That's not me anymore.

That's who he is. I'm different. I always was. That never was me. That surface was no-one. I'm the will to motion. I'm the choice I made. I am me.

Boss Man isn't holding my hands in place because he's too busy groping at my tuck. So I press them against the veins at the side of the neck, holding and twisting as if I was opening a jar of pickles. I hear his neck snap, and slowly he goes limp on top of me. My head is spinning and for a moment I forget who I am, where I am, what I am. There is only the naked tube lights of the ceiling high above and the graffiti on the concrete walls. My back hurts.

I turn to get him off me. I squeeze his neck again to be sure, check the pupils. I kick Boss Man in the side of the head, first gingerly, carefully. Then again, harder. Again. A dozen times, with the hard toes of my pumps. I take out the phone, choose the camera settings to ensure there is a time stamp watermark as well as a GPS watermark. Then I remember. I have to remove the little coloured sticker they put over the camera lenses on your phone in this club. Check. Filter settings. Check. I upload an image of Boss Man's vacant gaze as he lies there to the server, through the TOR client app. It's done.

I hurry down to the bathroom, one floor down. I shy away from the mirror image because I can already guess what it would show, and I go in to hide in a stall. I lock the door carefully. Then I let the tears come.

[noctxm]

muses

female

isabella martínez (eréndira ibarra) — 30-35, straight, POC/mexican — divorce attorney, bespoke three-piece suits, astronomical hourly fees, ruthless pragmatism and a crushing loneliness haunting her cold penthouse apartment. successful career woman born in an immigrant family with a private life in shambles. sometimes guilt overtakes her for playing devil’s advocate. eloquent in the courtroom, doesn’t know how to communicate outside of it. *

charlotte adler (elodie yung) — 40, bisexual, POC/half-asian — C.E.O. and editor in chief of adler publishing company, the on-the-brim-of-a-burnout type of overworked. makes shady deals. practices martial arts, which is probably for the better. sardonic and morbid sense of humour. straight-forward. is hated by many. the misogynistic shit-talk affects her more than she would admit. wants to and I quote “try that sugar mommy thing”.

olivia donnelley (danna paola) — 21-24, bisexual, POC/half-mexican — born into old money. filthy rich. spoiled but also highly competitive, therefore hardworking. most people would describe her with the word bitch. overprotective friend, at times a mom™️. arrogant very confident. done with men’s shit. impulsive&explosive&expressive. needs to calm down a notch or five.

camilla rossi (benedetta gargari) — 18-21, bisexual, white/italian — law student/waitress, full of compassion and kindness, cares more about others than herself, the mom friend, opinionated activist and feminist, defends everyone but needs to learn to stand up for herself.

riley jason (marlo kelly) — 18-21, bisexual, white/american — school dropout, rash and impulsive, social outcast, was raised by her older sister in a trailer park after her mother had killed herself and their father had left them, hardened exterior, mean almost exclusively towards boys, kickboxer, occasional drug dealer, just don’t mess with her.

ekaterina leonova (anya taylor joy) — 20-25, bicurious, white/half-russian — book-smart but not life-smart. meticulous perfectionist. introvert. calm demeanor. calculating. strategic thinker. math student and hacker in her free time. engaged in multiple cyber-attacks (mostly stealing banking data). locks herself in her room for hours. isn’t good at emotions™️. has had practically no youth and wants to catch up on all the social life she has lost behind the computer screen but how. nerdiest nerd on the planet.

—————————————————————

male

adan carter (jon bernthal) — 40-45, straight, white/american — ex-soldier, now boxer. recovering alcoholic. needs a therapist. doesn’t fall in love often but when he does, he falls hard. overprotective is his last name. sometimes displays toxic possessiveness but is actively working on that. worried 99% of the time. traumatized and paranoid. I quote: “the lines between good and bad are kinda blurred”, more like his moral compass is a roulette wheel. occasionally helps people he deems in need to soothe his conscience. needs to learn that not everything can/should be solved with violence. would never lay a hand on a woman.

ricardo sanchez (alejandro speitzer) — 25, straight, POC/mexican — player but actually really decent. all about asking for consent. some people call him a simp. operates in shady circles. only son and major disappointment of a successful company owner because he doesn’t want anything to do with the family business. the hypocrite is shadier than his family. just to spite his dad. is really just a male slut™️ 80% of the time.

kai reed (aron piper) — 18-21, bisexual, white/spanish — bisexual disaster of a self-proclaimed bad boy. reeking of sweat, immaturity and recklessness. needs to grow the f*ck up. hardened exterior due to previous bullying and abuse at home for his sexuality (take the bullied kid turned into a bully trope). if there was one person unable to stand a ‘faggot son’ it was his burly lumberjack neck beard father who would lovingly ‘slap some reason into the fella’ every now and then. if you squint he can be pretty decent underneath that jock façade. just keep in mind that trust/friendship are things he struggles with. fucks around, commitment scares him (or rather handing some person that much power over his feelings, like he really doesn’t want to get hurt). hates showing vulnerability.

santino de luca (oscar isaac) — 30-45 (there’s a younger and older version of him), straight, white/italian — at first consigliere, now head of the colombo crime family. had taken over the reigns after the only son of the former don was massacred by his enemies. as the new don santino quickly established a reputation for ruthlessness to a far greater degree than his predecessor, because although he is of sicilian descent, initially people from his own ranks as well as rival families wouldn’t accept him, as he wasn’t actually part of the family he now ruled. ambitious and power hungry. thirst for revenge. an even bigger thirst for love, for being understood. is actually quite lonely as most people came to fear and therefore avoid him over the years. don’t get me wrong, he’s a terrible person but he is capable of love, I promise. his younger version is a tad more naive and less closed-off.

*there’s a thread in which she’s an undercover cop. don’t ask.

[polarishq]

Meet HENRIETTE VASSEUR. They are ONE HUNDRED and THIRTY-SIX years old and hail from LILLE, FRANCE. Henriette embodies the star, DIPHDA. They use she/her pronouns and are currently employed as an FBI MAGIC LIAISON. Their faceclaim is DAKOTA JOHNSON.

Eridanus reminds me of patterned blazer over a band tshirt, red lipstick, high heels, the sound of ice rattling in an almost empty venti cold brew, an expensive chess set, a New York state of mind, dating older men, a black cat familiar, supplementing magic with technology, fluent in fifteen languages but most apt to just say “shut the fuck up” in response to everything, concluding a long day with a Vodka Tonic and a few rounds of Modern Warfare, knowing you’re lying by a single twitch, total aloofness, Devil’s Advocate, getting caught in the proverbial weeds of a situation, putting hot sauce on everything.

BIOGRAPHY

Although born in France, Henriette has spent very little time in her native country; daughter of a French diplomat, she’s traveled often and large chunks of time in different countries. I won’t bore you with the details of her childhood, as it was mostly just a blur of various boarding schools, pulling the Diplomatic Immunity card, and sneaking bottles of alcohol to get through boring dinners with career politicians and their families. Henry’s formative years had no tragedies, nor any majorly toxic family dynamics aside from a father who worked too much and a mother who liked to complain.

The only thing that stood out was the fact that she was wickedly smart, which likely explains her ridiculous superiority complex. Granted, when she was younger, there was nothing to say that this was tied to her magic; she was in a position where she could have a top tier education and a well rounded cultural experience, something that most of her peers didn’t have access to. Learning always came easy to her, though; she was the kid in class who’d be doodling in the back, not paying attention, but knew the answer anyway, delivered with an insufferable nonchalance. Various aptitude and IQ tests measured her incredible retention abilities and photographic memory. If Henry had ever really applied herself, she probably could’ve done great things; as it stood, she was honestly just bored more than anything else.

Henry could feel Diphda’s effects before she found the constellation just shy of her seventeenth birthday. With her sponsorship, Henriette could walk into a room and recognize the small details; the appearance of a fingerprint in the dust on a windowsill that wasn’t there yesterday, the way her calculus teacher’s gaze flicked to her for a millisecond every time they passed in the halls, the almost imperceptible way her dad’s tone shifted when he lied. It was, at first, an overwhelming sensation; she couldn’t do anything without her senses being bombarded, constantly distracted as her mind tried to sort out each and every situation. It’s still something she struggles with whenever she enters a hectic situation, but time and practice has made her better at weeding out at the more useless pieces of information.

The combination of her father’s job giving her status in both the mortal and magical realms and her sponsorship made her an early recruit for the government. The existence of witches is a well-kept secret amongst those in high power, but it’s also a dangerous balance to keep—tensions can be high and the disruption of these relations can cause a cascading series of problems, so witches are carefully sought after for these somewhat scarce positions. When she accepted the proposition for candidacy, Henry knew she was setting herself up for a difficult, high-pressured, yet lucrative career, and for the first time in her life, she actually… tried. A novel concept, I know.

Automatically given a full ride to study International Relations at Georgetown, Henry spent the next five years of her life in D.C. working alongside other recruits training her magic, martial arts, and weaponry skills. It was an intense program designed to weed out the weaker candidates, but early on in the process Henry recognized that she couldn’t imagine herself doing anything else, so she put her all behind it. After earning her degree, she was offered the opportunity to train at Quantico, followed by training with the magic bureau in Wisconsin. Upon completion, Henriette was offered the opportunity to replace the FBI liaison.

Henriette spends most of her days as a representative of both worlds’ interests, though is primarily brought in on cases when a witch is suspected of putting mortals in danger. Her career is her entire life—it’s all she’s ever been groomed for, the only thing she’s ever wanted to do, and it’s something she knows she’ll spend the rest of her life doing, if she can manage it. Her dedication to said career is what broke up her marriage. (Edward working for Polaris gives her the opportunity to be biased, and she could lose a lot of trust if anyone found out, so the divorce was prompt.)

In a hilarious turn of events, recently her work has prompted a (hopefully temporary) stay at Polaris Village, where she’s been instructed to do damage control after the recent curse disrupted a lot of the good mortal-magic relations between powers. Henriette isn’t thrilled about having to leave New York, but this could be the biggest opportunity she’s had yet, so—needless to say, Henry’s here to fuck shit up.

INCLINATION

Diphda cares not about a witch’s natural element, but rather only their mind; those sponsored by Diphda are naturally intelligent even without the use of their magic, and only after they’ve proven their superiority in that regard do they earn the mark. Diphda gifts the user the ability to notice and quickly analyze small, almost imperceptible details and easily commit them to memory. As a result, however, those sponsored by Diphda often have trouble looking at the big picture, making them somewhat easily susceptible to others’ ideas to give all of those details a higher purpose.

CONNECTIONS

Filling the role of Edward Vaughn’s Ex-Wife.

Filling the role of Irene Chen’s Cheat Codes.

Filling the role of Clarissa Aligheri’s Best Friend.

Penned by Ashley ★

[metellastella]

It’s always funny when I see fans treat Toph’s situation as solely “toxic” or “oppressive” when the narrative didn’t treat it that way.

Toph lied to her parents’ faces and snuck around her guards for YEARS while she practiced up her martial arts enough to compete. When she had a perfectly good earthbending master she could have demonstrated her abilities to.

In fact, she was still determined to forcibly guard this deception up to and including using minor earthbending against the semi-sacred figure of the entire world.

She came to him afterwards and declared a truce, sure, but still.

Imagine learning that someone you had tried your best to protect, had wandered off and sought out an illegal gambling circuit, pretty much the most dangerous place in existence in your city, when she could have been participating with other kids in normal martial arts tournaments instead of all the secrecy. It would be a relief to you, to know your daughter was not helpless. Surely she could have told you? You blame yourself for this. Did you not pay enough attention to your own child? All this time this twelve year old, even before she reached preteens, has been observing matches and hanging around alone among combat-trained adult thugs? She thinks this is normal? This has got to be fixed. Swiftly. You try to stay composed like your nobility culture tells you to be, but ultimately you are shocked and utterly unable to process this situation.

She clearly recognized that she screwed up massively when she cries into Katara’s arms in The Runaway.

She could have parted on better terms with them, had she chosen to ‘rebel’ without the cowardly hiding behind secrecy. This way, she’s ripped out her parents’ hearts and confused them. Your quiet little girl, who rarely told you she was unhappy, or gave signs of discontent, has suddenly vanished. At least in most situations, it is very clear that a child is fighting with their parents or sullen, so when they run away, it’s a wake up call, not an inexplicable blow totally out of nowhere.

But people miss that nuance, jumping straight to the righteous ‘rebellious teen/child’ archetype instead. Or the expected feminist lens, or whatever. They blip over how the creators actually presented it.

They don’t think about Toph’s apology to her parents in her premier episode, or the tone of her voice.

They don’t think about how it’s normal and acceptable to ground a child for minor bad behavoir, like shoplifting, and that this is a situation that spans literal years.

Yeah, Destiny stepped in or whatever, but barring that, this would be otherwise pretty routine while they got everything ironed out. Or she would get a chance to rebel like a normal child, with her parents’ sort of ‘informed consent,’ heh.

Also, the idea that your twelve year old daughter should go to war? Yeah, that’s completely bonkers as well. If you have to send men after her to save her from repeating the illegal thug danger, then by all the Spirits, you will do so.

The only reason the monks were willing to tentatively start preparing their twelve year old is because he was a demi god.

I haven’t gotten the field trip part of my story yet, but here is at the very least a much more substantial conversation about her parents, with Iroh included as a bonus! :D

You can read just the colorful boxes here, or you can read the whole fic, which is very Toph-centric

https://m.fanfiction.net/s/5732344/1/

Another question i meant to ask and then forgot about in the last one (on kid's show affecting meta analysis) - if you could, how would you have a Toph and Zuko field trip go down? And/or how would you show character growth for Toph at all in season 3? Speculation may not be your cup of tea, I just found this blog today and have been pouring over it, so no worries if you don't have an answer. Thanks again!

Hi! I can offer you even one better, because I did write a fix-it for it. 

Toph could have immensely benefitted from getting more screen-time with Zuko, because there issues mirror each other in really interesting ways - how sometimes families don’t accept you because of who you are or because of who you cannot be. 

Another person who Toph plays off really well is Sokka in terms of her learning about different kind of strength than bending and to rely on someone and understand it being caring and not pity. 

These themes were in the story, but I think Toph’s development - among many other things - suffered from how few Gaang episodes there were. 

[watermonkey0]

My Answer

4th Point of Contact - “My Answer” - Do Kyungsoo x Harper Hasagawa

I had to admit that it was nice having a full size shower again. Months in that cramped camping half bath felt like it had permanently curved my spine. Now I could stretch out in my combined bathroom shower suite thing. This was something the US should definitely implement: bathrooms that were all tile and a shower head built into the wall. How easy was that? You could shave your legs on the sink, and there was no tub to overflow. Why was this not a standard thing? 

It was easy to forget about the things that were going wrong in here, like the rushing water somehow managed to wash my thoughts away. Between the drops, I didn’t have to worry about Cat or how she was getting around in a country she was banned from, or about the faceless girl I had maimed. All my theories regarding CEO Kim could finally take a rest under the water, and the lingering fear that I’d sold my soul to a reporter eased its grip.

Before I knew it my time was up, and I had to return to earth. The descent was always the worst part, like I was peeling off a whole layer of skin and was forced to go back without my calluses. With a scowl, I wiped the fog from the mirror and surveyed the damage. The bruises from my crash landing last month were finally fading and I could see my face again for what it was. My hair that had somehow dulled in the California sunshine seemed like the gold was coming back, and the eyes that had stared blankly at me for months seemed like they held a secret again. There was no point in denying what the mirror was saying, and I accepted it readily: my glow was back. Someone had jammed their thumb on the play button. Leaving Seoul may have been one of the biggest mistakes of my life, but I was beginning to learn that one’s path is not always straight. I had to leave, I had to go, just for the sake of coming back and realizing what I had given up. Harper Hasagawa was apparently Korean now, and there was nothing I could do about it.

I threw on a tank top and underwear, not worried about formalities in my bedroom. It was such a blessing to have a private bathroom and not have to share the communal men’s room at the end of the hall. Although it was probably cleaner than mine, Minseok would no doubt see to that, sometimes a girl just has to dance around her room naked, ya know?

The dorm I usually shared with Cat was quiet and cold. Her bed was crisply made, and even though she had hardly any personal affects, I could see leftover traces of her, proof that she had been there and that she was coming back. Growing up in the shadow of the United States government had taught her not to cherish anything, because it would ultimately be taken away. But I knew that she always kept a cache of sweets on her at all times, or that she hated using pillows. There was a toothbrush here and an earring back there, signs that she was comfortable enough, stable enough to be clumsy.

My months in the states had always been highlighted with how much I missed: I missed the boys, I missed the food, the smell, the life of Seoul, I missed Tuesday martial arts day, I missed staying up all night and listening to my boys sing, but most of all (which was maybe an overstatement but meh) I missed Cat. In Japan she had been a ghost, slipping in and out as she pleased, never there for long or gone for long. She was consistent in her absence at least. That was her usual, it was our rapport.

But now? Hell, I couldn’t even go a day back home without calling or texting her. We were a pair, she and I. Two peas in a super depressing, slightly toxic pod. But she never missed a morning text either! I wasn’t alone in our bromance. Granted she threatened to quit nearly every day that I was gone, but it was unfailing. I needed me some Cat just as badly as she needed her Hasa. Although, I could be giving myself too much credit. I might need her just as much as she wanted Yixing. That could be a possible comparison too. With a shrug, I dropped my own argument. No sense in fighting the battle when she wasn’t even here to decide the outcome.

I palmed my wet hair with a towel and danced over to my desk where small pieces of paper were scattered over the top, scribbled with beginner Hangul and even-more-beginner Hànzì. I slid the flashcards around, forming and reforming a sentence, sounding out the syllables to see if I’d done it right. The internet told me this would be the fastest way to learn the characters, but the more time I spent on it, the more annoyed I became. Learning Spanish had not been this difficult. Then again, there was the obvious fact that I hadn’t had to relearn a whole alphabet just so I could pass my junior year of high school. Spanish was cake compared to this.

I was just sounding out the word for ‘banana’ when the creak of my door being thrown open made me jump. My flash cards slid out of line, skewing my fruit cocktail. With a fake huff of anger I turned to glare at my intruder. Kyungsoo stood in the doorway, hand still wrapped around the knob. He was in black sweatpants, a grey hoodie, and slippers, the ultimate sign of casual. It was such a rare occurrence that they didn’t have something going on tonight, that the moment they realized it was a ‘free night’, Junmyeon had declared an obligatory night for everyone to stay in and relax. It was why I’d let myself take an extra-long shower…ten minutes was a new record.

The slippered man was probably just here to see what I wanted for dinner, but when my eyes skipped up to his face, his normal enduring expression was not what I found. Instead, he was wide eyed, his whole face opening to his shock. It took a moment (admittedly a longer moment than it should have) before I realized what he was so startled by:

No pants.

I glanced down at my bare thighs and then back up to his dazed face. It wasn’t like this was the first time he’d seem some forbidden part of me. I mean, he’d helped that EMT cut my shirt off during the dream concert last year, and I’m sure there had been wardrobe malfunctions during Tuesdays that no one ever addressed. I’d worn less in front of him before, so it wasn’t quite so clear why he was so staggered by it now.

Don’t kid yourself, Harper…You know why he’s staring.

Heat crept up my neck as the photo shoot came galloping back into my mind from wherever I’d managed to banish it. His hands, his chest, his eyes, his lips—

Fuck.

With as much subtlety as I could muster, I lowered my towel to cover as much of my legs as possible, without giving away the fact that I was trying. I blinked a few times and pursed my lips, hoping that it schooled my face into something off-the-cuff as I asked,

“What’s up?” I turned back to my flash cards, pretending I wasn’t interested in his answer, using my free hand to rearrange them, ignoring the fact that I couldn’t concentrate enough to figure out what it said. Did this say ‘banana’ or did this say ‘thirsty’? Who knew?

I waited for him to right himself, to clear his throat or stomp out, yelling at my indecency over his shoulder…but nothing happened. It was only at the sound of a soft ‘click’ that I realized that this was not going to be like the other times.

That ‘click’ of my door was final, the final nail in the coffin we’d built for ourselves. His steps were soft, but I heard them. Years of combat experience and training made sure that I did. One foot after the other as he stepped in, stepped up. There would be no running away this time, no cut call, or formality. We were entombed in here, and his steps were so so soft. He’d trapped us in this impossible situation, and he still somehow found the nerve to whisper my name.  

“Harper…”

My breath hitched in my chest just hearing it on his lips, and my hand froze. Those damned heart shaped lips that I craved in my sleep. Frantically, I searched for something to distract him. There would be no way I could survive if he was coming in here sounding like that, like he was a walking dream and all I had to do was breathe him in.

“Look!” I grabbed two cards from the desk, dropping the towel like an afterthought, and held them up to his face. He was much closer to me now, having advanced well beyond whatever line we’d drawn. “I’ve been practicing.” I forced as much enthusiasm into my voice as I could, hoping it would deter him. Maybe if he thought I was busy studying, he wouldn’t want to start something he couldn’t finish. Maybe he’d take his lips, and his eyes, and his breath that I felt spreading over my face…and he’d go away.

Please, please…just go away.

But he didn’t.

Gently, I watched him reach up and hook his long fingers around my wrists, lowering the cards, getting them out of his way. He’d battered down my defense in one swift move. A gulp lodged in my throat as I caught my own reflection in the white of his eyes. I didn’t know how to win this fight, or even how to contend. If we had been sparring, I would be spinning away from him, putting distance between us…and that seemed like my only available option. He didn’t keep my arms once he’d pushed them away, and I took a step back, feeling the edge of the desk bump into the back of my thighs.

So much for my strategic retreat.

“Kyungsoo…” I whispered frantically, bracing my hands against the desk, pushing as far back as I could go. It was all I could manage to say, all my voice would allow. His name would have to be what broke the spell because despite all the languages that I knew…nothing else was making its way out. His name was all I could say as he took the final step into my space.

The first thing to touch me were his hips against mine and then he leaned over me, hands bracing behind me on the desk. I cast my eyes down, into the crook of his neck, down to his chest as it pressed up against my own.

“Tell me to stop.” His lips grazed against my ear, breath cascading down my neck. My body reacted without my say so. I should have flinched, should have shoved him away, but instead, I turned my head into him, my forehead brushing his ear.

“Say no.” His voice was so low, so earthy, so much like a growl that I felt it reverberate from his chest into my own. I could feel his heartbeat pressed against me, hammering. One of his hands found its way to the small of my back and slowly slid up, leaving a hot trail of goose bumps as he barely barely touched me.

“Scream at me to leave.” He begged, but at the same time, turned his face to me, pressing those lips against my head again.

It was too much. He was too much. My nails were digging into the lip of the desk for dear life, trying desperately to remind myself that this should not be happening, that I needed to come back to reality. Come down to earth! Reenter the atmosphere! You can’t breathe in outer space, you can’t survive out there, you aren’t supposed to live among the stars.

Kyungsoo was a star, he was the sun. He was blazing hot, and the longer I dared brave the fire, the worse my burns would be. I knew that. God, I knew that, but I still let my head tilt back and my eyes drift close. I still let a moan escape the back of my throat that sounded suspiciously like his name, and it seemed to stall him. He pulled back, taking his fire with him, and I was momentarily able to breathe.

“You can’t say my name like that…” Both his hands snaked up to either side of my face, cupping my cheeks. I knew what I would find if I opened my eyes: Him. I would see his familiar face, his big brown eyes, those iconic lips. And then I would see every conversation we’d ever had in the lines around his mouth, and all the secrets I’d entrusted to him and no one else in the crinkle of his eyes. I’d see the man who put every ounce of himself into everything he did. And I knew that if I opened my eyes and saw all of that, I would have to admit that…I wasn’t strong enough to leave any of it behind again.

A blurry thought popped into my head that this was all CEO Kim’s fault. If he hadn’t forced me into a scandal, if Kyungsoo hadn’t volunteered, if we hadn’t kissed in the dark of night under the fake rain for every eye to see…maybe we could have gone on like none of this was real. Like nothing that we felt for each other was true. He could write it off as Stockholm Syndrome, he the beauty, I the beast.

But no…our kiss in the damn rain had ignited something. Something neither of us could fight any longer.

“You can’t, cause I…I don’t think I can control myself if you say it like that.” He pressed his lips to my eye lids, speaking against my skin.

“Kyungsoo…” My mouth parted with his name again and I felt his whole body tense. He was trying desperately to contain himself, literally begging me to send him away. He knew this was forbidden too, it wasn’t like I was the only one with something to lose. Our foreheads pressed together, his fingers tangled in my wet hair, and I could feel his plea.

“Tell me to stop, Harper. Tell me to leave right now, because if you don’t…I never will.”  

For a moment, I considered giving him what he asked for, sending him away. I wasn’t sure what would happen if he pulled back completely and I opened my eyes to find him gone. Would I freeze to death? Would his fire singe my nerves, making it so I couldn’t feel anything at all? If he disappeared now…would I ever find him again?

The prospect of him never leaving was blissful. It was the kind of promise he knew I was weak for. Two years of cold beds and lonely nights wares down a heart that was once full, and that had always been evident to anyone who knew how to look at me. I was tired, and I was cold. Perhaps I could touch the flame this once, let it restore me, let my soul bask in the glow for a while before coming back down.

It was admirable that I entertained the alternative for so long considering the fractured state of my heart. Admirable, but at the same time, futile. I’d already made up my mind the moment my door had clicked shut, I just had to accept it.

I wanted him. I wanted him to light me on fire, engulf me, scorch me. I wanted to feel everything, and nothing at all. So I gave him his answer:

My nails dislodged themselves from the desk and crept around his waist. He tensed even more, and I felt his brows furrow against my own.

“Stay.”

[kitsutoshi]

Addressing the Broken: Ura and Omote

I’ve been thinking about something for a while. About why it is so hard for martial arts groups to police themselves.  This isn’t a problem unique to our schools. It happens all over. But martial arts schools are different in some ways. Many or most of our styles teach people to stand up, to be strong and to have integrity.  In theory, we should be learning to protect ourselves and each other. But in practice, many twisted and abusive things happen right in our schools, and we are complicit.  

I’m talking about everything from garden-variety sexism and glass-ceilings, to creepier types of manipulation and abuse. Teachers who undermine self-confidence, who pick favorites, who make rape jokes or gay jokes, who comment on women’s appearance but on men’s skill, who convey embarrassment over a student’s abilities, who exploit students, who treat the student population as a personal dating pool, who use the culture of martial arts tradition to avoid paying workers properly or just outright cheat their workers.  The list goes on.

if you train in enough schools it’s all there to see.  (If you haven’t seen it, awesome, thank your teachers).

This summer I had the opportunity to watch a peculiar set of events unfold with a local organization. Friends of mine have been involved with this group for many of the seventeen years it was open, but I only have an outsider’s view of it.  Though not a martial arts school, people could take classes there that would help them find strength, get out of their everyday self, and be something bigger.  They formed a close, trusting, and supportive community.  But this summer, there were news stories.  

According to the stories, and some friends’ posts online, the owner had engaged in over-the-line behaviors that bordered on abusive (or perhaps walked squarely into abusive).  Sexually inappropriate, failing to pay employees properly, weirdly sexist hiring and promotion practices, and passing it all off with personality and appeals to "community."  Which worked for many years to keep people from talking about the problems.  But then someone started talking, and others chimed in, and eventually people pushed to do something about it.

On friends’ Facebook posts, I watched guys who said they knew all along that “things weren’t right” stand up and own their knowledge and previous inaction.  They acknowledged their responsibility to stand, however belatedly, with the people whose experiences had been different than theirs.  

The story was interesting to me for a few reasons, but primarily because the situation was queasily familiar from my years in martial arts schools.  I wanted to see what would happen to that business.  The organization had brought richness to many lives, but it was owned by someone who poisoned the place, who made people deeply uncomfortable, who drove off valuable members with his behavior.  A charismatic person with damaging issues owned this place that was both life-improving, and misery-inducing.  

These people put their thoughts out into Facebook posts and news stories where we could see them.  Their thoughts were exactly what goes through the heads of every person who walks out of a martial arts school not because they are done with the art, but because they are done with the bullshit.  Once you’ve spent time in a martial arts school, the people there become more than your friends.  Sometimes far more.  The school becomes a home.  The teachers vary from never-to-be-questioned gurus to deeply-trusted mentors, to examples on a pedestal, to (at least) respected coaches.  

No matter what happens in an environment like that, the pressure (self-created and from others) to protect the school at all costs is intense.  The personal investment in a school’s reputation, in keeping alive the illusion that “everything is bright and wonderful” so that others can continue to train and benefit is so powerful.

The need for integrity in the profession of martial arts instructor really couldn’t be higher.  But the presence of integrity, as we all know, is a real crapshoot.  Some larger arts have formal training programs for teachers.  Some even do basic background checks.  For the most part, the immense responsibility and power of the “martial arts teacher” role is handed over to folks who have no training in counseling, crisis-management, or even the barest hint of what ethics might apply to their position.  Anyone can open or run a martial arts school. They can hire or appoint anyone they like. There’s no license for that.  If you consult the Internet, you’ll easily find “instructors” who look as if they've never taken a credible martial arts class.  

Teachers in our schools are usually just people who are good at martial arts (at best).  In spite of the many sales pitches made to parents about the endless virtues that martial arts will teach their children (“Discipline!”  “Respect!” “Confidence!” “Honor!” “Strength!”  “Character!”…) even in schools with some whisper of those things in the curriculum, what is taught most of the time is how to be good at punching, kicking, grappling, throws, weapons use, and escapes.  

Some schools are better than others at working in those "soft" lessons.  Maybe with words on the wall, or mantras the students yell, or lessons they need to study.  But mostly martial arts schools just teach martial arts.  Which has very little to do with personal character.  

I see three types of people attracted to martial arts.  Those who ARE decent human beings choose martial arts out of affinity for those goals; people who may not be stellar yet but who WANT to be better people choose martial arts for the same reason; and people who aren't decent at all, but who want to APPEAR to be decent also choose martial arts.  Because an environment like that makes it so easy to put on a facade and exploit people. I think that there are far far more of the first two types, but it doesn’t take many of the third type to do a lot of damage.

A quick Google News search will turn up plenty of “martial arts teacher messed up” stories.  Abusing kids, sexual misconduct, business misconduct.  Being good at a martial art doesn’t make you good at being a person. But those news stories are the exception, where someone got caught.  Mostly bad teachers just stay in their jobs, and if they have charisma they may stay for a very long time.  They do things that are abusive and “not right,” and they harm a lot of people, but martial arts schools are littered with them.  They have power, and they abuse it.  But only a small percentage cross into criminal territory and eventually get caught.

So seeing these news stories this summer, I could relate. The struggle between loyalty to their “family” and wanting to see something done about things that “weren’t right.”  I would be astonished, actually, to find people, particularly women, in martial arts with any significant years of training who could not relate to that, at least a little.

I’ve watched too many friends change schools, change arts, or give up martial arts entirely because of teachers who shouldn’t be trusted to run a lemonade stand, but who owned whole schools. It’s routine in the women’s changing rooms and “women’s nights out” to vent about the bullshit. The glass ceilings and very different standards for promotion or hiring or teaching, the poor assumptions about women who train, the condescension from lower-ranked men that’s so rarely dealt with effectively by teachers. The promotion of women who look good, regardless of skill or hard work, and the failure to promote women (even ones who look good) regardless of skill or hard work. (All unfair to everyone involved). Women in martial arts just suck that shit up and keep training.  Or they leave, because it's an overt violation of the integrity martial arts is supposed to embody, and why would they stay?  Of course it’s not only women: favoritism toward younger people, racism, massive doses of anti-LGBTQ attitudes…all of the social ills we see everywhere are magnified in a martial arts school.

People who train are, just like most people, usually really decent. Plenty of men train because they want to be able to protect others or be better people.  So often they quietly tell us “I saw that, it wasn’t right,” or do things to “make up for” a bad teacher. Which keeps some folks training longer. But the environment of a school with a toxic teacher can suck the wind out of anyone’s sails.  

We’re often asked “why is it so hard to keep women students,” but the real answers go in one ear and out the other and we get pink gis rather than solutions. When a structure is betrayed by the people running it, that puts off a lot of students.  When the people up in front are all white dudes, and the occasional woman is clearly window-dressing or a token, or teaches mostly children’s classes, that’s massively off-putting.  

So this summer I watched this local kind-of-like-an-MA-school organization and its owner go through a public flaying with bated breath to see whether my own personal fear would be realized. The fear of everyone in a position of knowing things aren’t right with their beloved organization.  And it was realized.  The owner of this business agreed to step out, but couldn’t find a buyer (it was a reputation-based business, and this publicity had done it in).  The company folded.  Exactly the fear that keeps our people from speaking up when things aren’t right.  “What if I hurt my school?”

Watching this organization’s public laundry-airing, I mainly considered two things:

1. What INTERNAL fortitude and integrity does it take to speak up about things that “aren’t right” or to take those things seriously and act when someone else speaks up?  This group of not-martial-artists had a lot of guts, strength, and integrity.  Some spoke up, probably in fear that their friends would hate them.  Others acknowledged their own role in it, cleaned up their mess, and “did the right thing,” cutting through their own cognitive dissonance and risking their beloved company to do it.  I’ve not seen much of that in the martial arts community.  Usually the opposite.  People whose stated profession/avocation is about being strong and having integrity…mostly aren’t and don’t when it comes to handling toxic instructors, or even toxic students. 2. What EXTERNAL forces could be applied to pre-empt a hot mess?  What constraints, controls, or measures could be put in place in an organization (specifically a martial arts school) to keep things from getting that far?  To help people recognize “not right” and head it off at the pass? To remove control from abusive people or keep them from getting it to begin with.

The internal fortitude issue is complicated.

When most people leave a martial arts school in frustration after wading through the bullshit for too long, or after a traumatic encounter or shock, paradoxically, their greatest fear is that if they speak up it will hurt the school. If they were there long, they probably highly value their experience, even if it was painful or harmful. They may believe that other people don’t have the same harm from the bad teacher (though often it’s just that others are harmed and no one speaks up).  They don't want the people they care for to be hurt.  Better to step out quietly.  

I’ve been on the side of saying “I know that wasn’t right.” I’ve encouraged people to leave quietly to protect the school rather than speaking up myself or encouraging them to speak. I’ve bitten my tongue at the many “seriously not right” things that go on in a school like that because of loyalty, or hierarchy, or “did I really just see that?!” or because I knew that speaking up would do no good.  Probably many people of rank who have trained in a few different schools can say the same.

There isn’t much to be done when the harm is coming from the school owner.  I many times protected the larger “family” at the expense of those members who were hurt. I let those people down by not dealing with the ugliness. I did not act with strength or integrity, though I rationalized it all every time as protecting the family.  I think of myself as someone with integrity, so I had to handle that cognitive dissonance somehow when my integrity failed.  

Cognitive dissonance plays another part too.  We imbue teachers with our ideals, so we make a lot of excuses for them to keep that “big bright” image. It is hard to cut through our constructs to see a problem, and there are so few ways to deal with a problem like a toxic teacher that we will do almost anything to avoid thinking about it.  Between wanting to believe that we have integrity, and that our idols do, we walk around in a bubble and allow harm to happen in ways that are the opposite of having integrity.

Speaking up about problems with teachers (who attain impressive loyalty from their students) is incredibly hard, and that protects the teachers who shouldn’t be there. Personal fear plays into it.  "What if I'm wrong/crazy." or "Will my friends turn away from me?"  Those are difficult questions.  They’re especially difficult if the toxic person is skilled at gaslighting (as so many are).  Far more difficult if the toxic person has a little cadre of gaslighters downplaying the harm on his behalf.  Like being with an abusive spouse and their thirty cousins who believe the abuser can do no wrong.

And most of those factors were true in the organization I watched this summer as well.  I was a little awed by what I witnessed when this local company was exposed.  The guys in that organization stepped up.  When presented with the reality, they cut through the same mental trap we face.  They posted publicly too, acknowledged the trouble out loud, and they ultimately sacrificed their beloved business in favor of supporting the people who had been hurt there.

They probably felt the loss keenly, after-all they hadn’t been harmed.  At least not directly.  (From what I saw them post, they were harmed. They knew things were “not right” and they were harmed by their inaction.  I harmed myself in that way, and regret it keenly. Because it hurts to let your friends be hurt and do nothing to stop it.) That’s a regret that doesn’t heal easily.

But I find a lot of irony in the courage of these people who do NOT train in martial arts.  We ostensibly train in “integrity, courage, discipline, honesty…” but we pressure each other to ignore the harm caused by these toxic teachers. We teach personal protection, we teach courage, strength, trusting our guts, doing the right thing.  But the secretive “keep it in the family” culture of too many martial arts schools doesn't mean "and we'll fix it in the family," it means we pretend bad things aren't happening.  We don’t step in when we know things aren’t right and many students leave quietly when the “not right” hits home too much for too long.  We should have better solutions.

I don’t have any silver bullets, but I do have some thoughts. Both about the “internal” problem of standing up with integrity when we encounter toxic teachers or when someone tells us about their bad experiences.  And also “external” options that may help nip these situations/people in the bud.

Student’s Bill of Rights

An obvious one is Better teacher training, and training on ethics.  Literally codes of ethics for teachers and school owners.  That’s an internal AND an external fix.  Some systems have those, and I would be fascinated to know whether it helps.  I doubt it keeps really bad teachers from doing bad things.  “Those teachers” are going to do what they do.  But inexperienced people who have never thought about what it means to be in a position of such responsibility should be taught. People who are ignorant rather than malicious can learn ethics.  Martial arts instructors are in a terrifying position of power over their students in many schools.  People handed that role should be told up-front what it means to be in that role and to do it responsibly.

As an external control, a code of ethics, like a “Student’s Bill of Rights” would illustrate “this is the standard of behavior for teachers.”  Knowing what a teacher should be like makes it much clearer when things are wrong.  Don’t throw a code in an owner’s manual somewhere, put it in the changing rooms on a poster. If a school doesn’t allow teachers to date students (or constrains such relationships with clear rules to prevent the harm it can cause), but a teacher asks a student out or asks them to hide a relationship, that’s a clear sign. But if students don’t know it’s wrong (or worse, teachers don’t)…well it happens all the time.

With a code, students can know “this shouldn’t be.”  And maybe having that sort of standard, and discussing it openly and frankly, would make it easier to bring things out of changing-room conversation and into open, frank discussion in schools.  

Trusted and Empowered Seniors

Maybe rather than keeping lids on until the cooker explodes, schools should create ways to have conversations that could release pressure and make things better. There’s nothing wrong with “keeping it in the family” as long as the “family” has ways to fix the problems. I just bet that some of the folks from that company I watched are thinking “is there anything I could have done years ago to deal with this?”  “Did it have to come to this public shaming and implosion?”  That’s a great question.  

I look back on my many friends who have lost martial arts from their lives, or lost their preferred art and had to take up another one where the school environment was survivable. I wish that I had had words or leverage or ability to make things better for them.  Or at least I wish that I had spoken up louder, and continued speaking up until I’d either been walked out the door or things changed.

Having senior (but perhaps not too senior) students designated individually or as a group to handle issues would help.  Of course most schools work that way informally.  Senior students take care of junior students.  Senior students listen to the woes of junior students and try to help.  But I think that an official role would make a difference.  It was my responsibility as a senior student (Instructor) to listen when people told me things were not right, but there was nowhere to go from there. The “yeah, I hear you, that sucks” problem.  

People should be told: “You are designated to make sure that this ethics code is adhered-to, and if it’s not, you need to tell X, Y, Z, and keep telling people up the ladder until the problem is fixed.  Whether it’s the newest coach on the floor or the owner of the school, you need to 1. Listen.  2. Use your judgment. and 3. Act on what you’ve been told.”

Maybe rather than individual responsibility, it could be a group that has the power to call anyone (even the owner) on the carpet.  Often just shining some light on dark behavior will make it go away.  When it’s issues like bias in promotion or hiring, that’s a tough nut to crack, but a group whose job is to consider the issues might have a shot at it.

Listening and Watching

We all have a  deep bias against people who stop training, an assumption of weakness or insufficiency.  That makes it easy to downplay any reasons they give.  People who quit things want to blame anyone other than themselves.  The best teachers out there will have a long list of quitters who say it’s the teacher’s fault.  So we take those excuses with a big lump of salt. Which is a great cover.

Let’s be real.  Attrition in martial arts is high, and that masks the effects of bad teachers.  Lame excuses for leaving can cover “I’m too lazy for this, it's too hard for me” but they also cover up “the teacher made me feel like dirt,” or “the teacher had his hands on me differently than he touched other people in class,” or “I watched some lower-ranked guy who trains a lot less get promoted over my head one too many times.”  or “I’m gay, and sick to death of people covering their discomfort with jokes like ‘it’s not gay if you don’t make eye contact.’”

When someone complains about others being promoted over them, it’s a near 100% likelihood that they’re whiners who didn’t get promoted because they didn’t earn it.  The people who we SHOULD notice didn’t get promoted fairly are good students who DON’T speak up.  A “good student” just assumes they weren’t good enough and keeps trying. There’s no system there for countering bias in promotions.  We rightly dismiss complaints from whiners, and the people unfairly held back go quietly unnoticed.  

But I think we should measure.  Keeping demographics on promotions/attendance/attrition.  We should see whether men are promoted faster on average than women, or white people faster than POC.  Or young people faster than old people.  Controlling for attendance, in a big enough school or over enough time we could spot bias pretty easily.

Also, taking comments and keeping them, either anonymously or with some bare demographic information.  Are there trends?  Maybe we could task senior students with writing down what people tell them, and keeping a file.  Sending friends to do “exit interviews” when people leave a school. Then annually review the file.  Spot trends.  See if it’s not just one whiner complaining about promotion, but a trend of older people all feeling they were held back.  Or women feeling that their teachers didn’t take them seriously.  Or even just “I can’t put my finger on it, but I don’t feel comfortable in X’s classes.”  

And when we spot the trends, we need to act on them.  Back to “internal.”  If we want integrity, we need to realize that integrity is an awful feeling, not a bright one.  It’s self-doubt, it’s sacrificing one value for another, it’s wondering if we’re doing the right thing.  It’s standing up to our friends.  Assuming “I’m a person with integrity” or “Teacher is a person with integrity,” and rationalizing our actions or dismissing the evidence of our senses is the opposite of integrity.

How it Ends

I hurt for the folks I watched over the summer, who did the right thing and lost their beloved organization.  In the movies that wouldn’t happen.  In real life, sometimes we have to choose, and we regret every choice.  That is the position a poisonous teacher or school owner puts us in.  Life is messy.  You can’t punch a problem like this in the face.  We like face-punchable problems.  These are not that.

I can’t answer whether risking a school failure to address issues is worth it. That’s a personal decision. One I’ve never answered “yes” to.  Presumably it’s all on a scale.  A teacher with a bad temper who just makes people feel bad occasionally is one thing, a teacher sleeping his way around the school or manipulating students against their own interests or not paying or promoting appropriately is quite another, and a teacher crossing over into criminal behavior ought to be a bright line.

But there are simple things.  If your school doesn’t have a code of conduct for its instructors, it might be worth asking for one.  And if there’s resistance…maybe it’s worth asking a lot harder questions.  When devoted students leave, senior students should pursue their reasons. There’s a difference between a loudmouthed white-belt leaving and a loyal black-belt leaving. Good teachers will ask questions and keep asking them until the answers come out.  Giving students trusted people to talk with to really understand if something has gone very wrong can draw that out.  People with higher ranks have responsibility to address those issues rather than stewing or silencing.  

We apparently have obstacles and blind-spots to living with integrity. But we could do better.  Others do. Even people in the entertainment industry are cleaning house these days. If we don’t practice our values, we’re just crazy people in pajamas.

[lucht88]

One of the reasons that I fell so in love with martial arts as another very closeted trans woman (even to myself until I was 29), is that it was one of the only contexts where casual touch from me was seen/treated as normal/acceptable. I could just walk up to a newer student’s hand, hold it with both of mine, and gently adjust it into the correct position while explaining why. I remember it being such an incredible feeling for that to be an ok thing to do!

Now, after more than a decade and a half in the martial arts and ten years since getting into Brazilian Jiu Jitsu , I am literally perfectly comfortable with someone sitting on my head to practice a shoulder lock, or clinging to my lower back with their legs while practicing a chokehold on me. However, I still feel uncomfortable and unsure of myself, when I have to urge to take a friend’s hand (or even put my hand on their shoulder) and emphatically offer them emotional support. I’m legit just realizing how f@(&ed up that is...

@comicsbyxan thank you for writing and drawing this! It’s hitting me so hard in the feels right now... I remeber so well that same feeling of jealousy you describe, and the same knowledge stamped into my brain by society, that it was something I wasn’t allowed to be a part of. I don’t think I realized how much I’ve been relying on martial arts, which are still wonderful and which I recommend to everyone, to fulfill my need for casual touch. I’m going to see if some of the trans women I’ve made friends with recently feel the same way, cause y’alls way of working through that stuff together is so cute, pure and womenderful (which was a typo of ‘wonderful’ but which I absolutely refuse to correct)!

Additionally, it is just messed up how much our society hates casual touch being given by and/or to people who were amab. This isn’t just a bad thing for my fellow trans sisters either; promoting the idea that casual touch by/of amab people is unacceptable, in turn promotes the idea that amab people can only interact physically with others through violence or sex. When internalized by men, this mindset helps support rape culture and toxic masculinity...

I still remember a few cis women who immediately hugged me when I came out to them, and that’s true allyship right there.

Hey! Did you know that I have a Patreon now? If you’d like to support me and my comics, go to https://www.patreon.com/comicsbyxan  and sign up 💖

[keanuital]

5 REASONS KEANU REEVES IS OUR GREATEST LIVING ACTION STAR

Pop quiz, hotshot: What are the five finest moments from the illustrious career of Keanu Reeves?

Trick question. With films like Point Break, Speed, and, of course, John Wick, choosing five moments is near impossible. Look, a case can be made for other actors: Tom Cruise runs through action movie after action movie, hellbent on not aging. The heroes of Marvel comic-book movies all bring 10 tons of charm, though outside their carefully curated franchises, they leave something to be desired. But Keanu is vulnerable, sincere, physical, and supremely watchable, even in his lesser roles. Yes, even Johnny Mnemonic.

This week, John Wick: Chapter 2 hits theaters and Keanu returns as a ray of sunshine in these dark times. There's no better time to remind you that he's the best thing the action-movie genre has to offer. Here's why.

Gun fu is an art

Scene: The nightclub beatdown in John Wick This whole list could be moments from John Wick and it would be impossible to argue with. But peak Wick is the six-minute scene in which Keanu's hardened assassin slices and shoots his way through a garishly lit nightclub in order to dish out some good old-fashioned vengeance against the son of a Russian mob boss. They killed his dog. They deserve it.

Keanu's action work isn't undergirded by the brute force that the Fast and Furiousmovies and many other American franchises hew toward. The actor relies on grace. As videos of Keanu training for John Wick and its sequel demonstrate, making demanding stunts look easy takes work.

These same physical choices, more so than vocal modulations and scenery-chewing ostentatiousness that many regard as "good acting," are just as vital to Keanu in non-action scenes. In John Wick's subtle moments, a simple glance or half-hearted smirk says more than any lengthy monologue. When interacting with heavies like Willem Dafoe, Ian McShane, and John Leguizamo, Keanu relies not on heavy expository dialogue but the sudden warmth that flutters across his face and ease that betrays a deep history with these people, adding to the mythological world-building that exists in the script. Keanu missed his calling as a silent-film star.

There's no tone Keanu can't handle

Scene: The foot chase in Point Break Point Break, arguably The Hurt Locker director Kathryn Bigelow's most unapologetically fun work, is a rip-roaring action flick propelled through a tender romance, at once supremely silly and surprisingly heartfelt. Through sheer skill Point Break makes the jumble of ideas cohesive.

The thrilling chase sequence between Keanu's young FBI agent and Patrick Swayze's career criminal is one of the best examples of what Bigelow pulls off, partially thanks to an honest and ridiculous ending in which our star fires his gun several times in the air. A lot of this works thanks to Keanu's virility and vigor. Also, did I mention Swayze is wearing a Ronald Reagan mask the whole time? Patrick Swayze's willingness to wear a Ronald Reagan mask.

Bigelow takes full advantage of Keanu with several glamour-shot moments that one might expect in a film starring the latest female ingenue. Seeing the men of action films undressed or shot as sex symbols isn't out of the ordinary. Marvel loves to throw in shirtless shots of its multiple Chrises. But through Bigelow's lens, Keanu's relationship to the camera feels almost subversive. His natural mixture of passivity and physical grace gives his role of Johnny Utah masculine and feminine qualities. Look at him standing in the rain during the opening title sequence. Few can hold a shotgun as sensually as Keanu Reeves. Which leads us to...

We can't overlook Keanu's soft side

Scene: Constantine summons Tilda Swinton, angel from hell, in Constantine Constantine is not a good adaptation of the Hellblazer comics that the film is nominally based on. It is a damn fine action movie. I was tempted to include the scene between Keanu and a cat acting as a portal to hell (because any time he interacts with animals tugs at my heartstrings), but watching his smart-mouthed, occult-practicing detective John Constantine face off against Tilda Swinton's androgynous angel Gabriel edged out the competition. Because the actor, even while leading a movie, is a great scene partner.

Keanu's vulnerable and understated instincts know when to pull back and let an actor like Tilda Swinton or Rachel Weisz carry the scene. You don't find that in Hollywood. It's hard to think of an action star of his caliber whose characters aren't underscored with toxic masculinity, to one degree or another. A lot of action leads tend to be hotshots that treat friends or romantic partners as disposable until the plot transforms them into nice guys. Even with all the violence Keanu does not require the bad-boy machismo of, say, Chris Pratt's characters in Jurassic World and Guardians of the Galaxy.

I'll take it a step further: In Keanu Reeves action movies, romantic relationships are either nonexistent, underplayed, or they end on somewhat opaque terms. In movies like Point Break and The Matrix, women are comrades who train him and act as windows into new worlds.

Keanu Reeves allows all of us to be Keanu Reeves

Scene: The "I know kung fu" training sequence in The Matrix Keanu has accumulated a rep for being a blank slate. What people don't realize is how much emotion -- from joy to loneliness and back again -- can be beamed out from the actor's resting face.

One thing I love about Keanu is his tendency to play men who don't know what the hell they're doing or where they belong until they're introduced to a brand-new world. His characters are often profoundly lonely men looking for their place world and when they find it they aren't afraid to express joy. In The Matrix, the actor nails the mix of awe, fear, and joy that we, the viewers, are experiencing as we watch Neo learn all these badass new skills. That "blank slate" is his way of connecting with most of us who spend our days with blank looks on our faces.

The guy loves action movies

Scene: The final showdown in Man of Tai Chi Keanu's sincere love of his go-to genre gives integrity to outlandish movies like Speedor the dopey Johnny Mnemonic. It's no surprise that his only work as a director was with the 2013 martial arts film Man of Tai Chi.

Not only are the movie's action sequences sculpted by Keanu, it's also the rare instance where he plays the antagonist instead of the hero. The latter role is taken up by Tiger Chen, a martial artist/stuntman who worked on The Matrix films. With the help of legendary fight choreographer Yuen Woo-ping (Kill Bill, The Grandmaster, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon) the narratively simple film is brimming with great fight sequences. There isn't any overly complicated editing cutting from the action. Instead, Keanu, as much as he's done as an actor, gets out of the way, letting the film be a showcase for Tiger Chen and the genre itself.

Man of Tai Chi isn't groundbreaking, opting for reverence toward the genre and martial arts styling that have become synonymous with Keanu’s career. In many ways Man of Tai Chi distills what makes Keanu an amazing action star and director: his respect and knowledge of the craft. The film puts on display what has made Keanu a wondrous presence in action films since the 1990s: grace, impeccable ability to tell stories through balletic stunt work, unabashed joyfulness, and an ambition for spectacle. His films move, in every sense of the word.

X

[circlecast]

The Man Box Part 2

This is part 2 of a 2 part series I would recommend you listen to episode 29 first.

Now, this is a new concept for me and it was introduced to me from a friend of mine. She is a counselor who works with sex offenders. She was talking about how they use the information about The Man Box to help them. Now This episode is more than likely going to drift on the political a bit. This isn’t a political site. This website is men focused and meant to help men raise strong confident boys to they can be leaders in society. To do that we sadly have to get our political feet wet today. Again I apologize there are way too much politics and tribalism going on in the world today. When there is a line crossed I will take a stand. As a Man Should.

So I got to looking at what in the world the man box was. I came across the ted talk by Tony Porter which is the very first video that pops up on youtube. Now Tony started out as a child in the inner city. He talks about how growing up in New York he was taught that Men had to be tough, strong, courageous, dominating, no pain, emotionless except anger and no fear, men are in change which means women are not, That men lead and you just fall in line, Men are superior and women are inferior, Men strong women weak, that women are less valuable. They are the property of men.

Now he goes on and talks about his dad atone of his brother’s funeral, and how he held his tears in till the women left. He then progresses to a story about a girl name Shiela and his interactions with her.  From here he digresses into the problem with the man box and the problem I have with the man box. Where he says that all men function in the deepest foundations or the man Box we inherently undervalue women which makes us see them as objects. This Man box is the topic of today’s discussion.

The biggest problem with all the studies I am about to talk about and it will be beaten in your head throughout this episode is that for people who hate stereotypes they love to stereotype when it fits their needs. Now again I do realize that that view is also a stereotype so this just proves my point even more.

What is the Man Box?

It is a perceived list of values all men are supposed to hold to. Now the “supposed to” is used on purpose because in this argument one side thinks that is how we act and the other side thinks how we don’t act. There are academic papers that are pushing this Man Box listed all over the place. There are studies about how The role of masculine norms and gender role conflict. There are studies about Toxic Masculinity The Man Box is also called Toxic Masculinity. This is where so many people get the idea of Masculinity as being bad, and we need to break the Gender norms and such instances as this. They are fundamentally wrong and we will get into these instances later.

Now according to Richmond College, The Man Box is described as,

A term that researchers use to describe the dominant form of masculinity in the United States at this time is known as Hegemonic Masculinity, which Mark Greene (2013) and others have described as the “Man Box.”

Now that Hegemonic Masculinity is a $10 word and I had a 50¢ vocabulary so I did look up and see what Hegemonic masculinity means and it is according to Wikipedia

Hegemonic masculinity is defined as a practice that legitimizes men's dominant position in society and justifies the subordination of the common male population and women, and other marginalized ways of being a man

From what I see that is the common Alpha Male and Beta Male line of thinking. This is also an incorrect way to look at men. 

Now the Term Man Box goes all the way back 40 years ago to an activist named Paul Kivel. His Wikipedia page isn’t very filled out so what is listed is.

Kivel co-founded the Oakland Men's Project, a community education center focused on preventing male violence, and has been called "an innovative leader in violence prevention.

According to one study called, The Man Box: A Study on Being a Young Man in the US, UK, and Mexico

a rigid construct of cultural ideas about male identity. This includes being self-sufficient, acting tough, looking physically attractive, sticking to rigid gender roles, being heterosexual, having sexual prowess, and using aggression to resolve conflicts.

This is the primary study that I read through and this took a while because of the double standard and I could only handle it at short chunks because of the double standard. 

The 7 Pillars of the Man Box

In the study the divided the man box up into 7 different categories and they are.

Self Sufficiency

A man never talks about his feeling if he wants to get respect. Men should figure out their problems on their own.

Acting Tough

If a man doesn’t fight back, he is weak. Men should act strong even if they are nervose or scared.

Physical Attractiveness

A man has to look good if he wants to be successful. Yet women don’t like men who fuss too much with their hair clothes and skin. And if men spend too much time on their looks they aren’t manly.

Rigid Gender Roles

Men should earn the money and women should stay home and take care of the kids. Boys should have to learn how to cook clean or take care of kids. Husbands don’t have to do chores

Homophobia

Gay men are not real men but it is OK to be friends with a gay man. (Yeah figure that one out)

Hypersexuality

Real Men should have as many sexual partners as they can and never say no to sex.

Aggression and Control

Real men use violence to get respect. A man should always have the final say in a family, and they should know where their girlfriend or woman is at all times.

Already you are seeing the flaws in the man box theory. First, they destroy their argument in the Homophobia category. 

Yet let’s look at some other problems men are in other studies.

Boys are more likely to take risks and partake in risky behaviors.

Yes, boys take more risks and the competition of being the best is in all of us.

They are more fearless

Boys like to show off yet women too like to show off in their own natural way.

You have to be successful

We all want to be successful. Men are more likely to take the risks needed to have their own business.

Engage in watching pornography more

Now, this is a problem. I agree. I am starting to look at what porn does to a man’s way of thinking. And I am starting to see what Pornography does to a man’s thought process. But it isn’t an objectification of women like many people want to think. Yet it does take away the connection to your wife if you are married. Yet I would say we need to look at why men turn to porn in the first place.

Emotionless

This is the natural inclination to stoicism men develop. This is a skill that men require not to turn their emotions off like a switch but to set their emotions off to the side until there is a proper time to process them. 

There is a problem with both sexes in that they will run from uncomfortable emotions. They will bury then so that they don’t have to experience them. This does cause problems and this problem is again in both sexes. This is where much of the problem of overeating comes in to play, along with alcoholism and drug addiction.

Have higher mental health problems

This is going to have some finger-pointing. I believe this is from many of the outside influences on the boys as they are growing up. The schools treat boys as if they are broken girls. Boys are not allowed to be boys. There is a fundamental difference between the two sexes and all of the postmodern deconstructionism that is going on in colleges these days adds only more mental health problems and confusion. Attacks on masculinity as being bad adds even more fuel wind to the tempest. There are no healthy debates going on. There is way too much tribalism. All of this has stifled real men and boys from being able to have healthy talks.

Trying to fix something that isn’t broke only breaks more stuff.

More prone to bullying

This is an increase across both sexes. This has gone on for centuries. Is bullying a problem? It can be but if you can teach a boy to be stoic and let him understand that each man has the ability to disarm the bully by using confidence. Any time you stand out from the crowd people is going to try to pull you down. This is called The Tall poppy syndrome. I talked about this in episode 23.

I also see bullying as a normal rite of passage. It does strengthen you for life. You will face assholes all along your journey you have how do you deal with them? You have teachers who will not like you you will have upper-level managers who see you as a threat. You will have people who will delight in making your life hell. How do you deal with this normal everyday occurrence? You learn from them.

One of the best ways to teach confidence for kids in school is to help them learn that they have power. That can mean that they have to bloody a bully’s nose at some time. That is actually a good thing it teaches the bully that their actions are not accepted and that you never know who you‘re messing with. So get your kid into some type of martial arts. They learn to fight when it is needed.

Lack of friends to talk to

Look at young boys they make friends at the drop of a hat. This skill is lost as we get older. Look at 45-year-old men they may only have 1 or 2 close friends. This on their head it isn’t because men can’t have friends it is because we get caught up in the grind of life. Helping our families. This is a problem but it isn’t strictly associated with men I know many women who have only 1 or 2 close friends.

Will stand by and watch

This is a societal problem. Not only do men stand by and let injustice happen but I see just as many women standing to the side with their phone’s camera out and recording.

What are men in reality

Men actually do the following

We protect those close to us

We do stand up for those who are our family. If the need arises we will fight. We will resort to violent actions. We may not want to but we will. This is why men go to war. They believe in a cause and are willing to put their lives on the line.

This is where many of the Man Box categories are actually put to good use. War is risky so when being raised up this is why boys take more risk. We naturally train ourselves to do fearless activities. It shows us that 90% of the time we won’t actually die from being uncomfortable. 

We have the needed aggression to do the hard work. That aggression is also used so that we go after what we want. We don’t give up just because something is in our way.

The lack of emotions that these studies find also helps in protecting our families. WE do have to act in moments of fear and high stress. When loud explosions are going on around us we have to know there is a time and a place for everything and paying attention to the amygdala on a battlefield will often get you shot. This is called Stoicism and it is a good thing for men to have. So we aren’t just standing in the middle of a crowd boohooing. 

Men serve their community

WE have friends and working or running a business is serving the community. We have to take risks to run a business. We can’t succumb to fear when making a business decision because it will most likely be the wrong choice.

Men provide for their family

This is us reaping the rewards of serving the community. Life is a set of transactions and that sounds cold to many who think capitalism is wrong but it is a fact. You cant receive unless you give. This goes with respect, Having a wife, having friends, and having a business.

Without many aspects of the Man Box, you cant have a stable society. These social constructs have been with us for many millennia. They serve us well and they are there for a damn good reason.

Now I will say I agree with Tony at the end of his talk. Because in all reality I am doing a lot on this site to do what he thinks needs to be done to fix the Man Box. He stats that is it ok to not be dominating. It is OK to have feelings and emotions. It is OK to promote equality, it is OK to have women who are just friends, That it is ok to be whole.

That is what I do on this site and this podcast. If you go through and look we talk a hell of a lot about emotions and what they are and why they are good to have. Equality is always something we all strive for real equality not to sacrifice one person's rights gifts and give them to a different person who someone arbitrarily feels needs more rights and special help. We all have the ability to be successful. And there would be more successful with less victim mindset. When we have the stoicism and integrity in your life you can have women as friends. 

Other Relaxed Male posts about Toxic Masculinity

There is No Toxic Masculinity Because Our Boys Aren’t Broken

Let Boys be Boys

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