If men are from Mars, so too are women.
I periodically come across discussions regarding the depiction of men in romance novels, in particular, how men are written by female authors. The common concern is that the men aren’t “manly” enough, that they have been feminized (whatever that means). Alternately, some female writers opine that men are mysterious beings who cannot be fathomed by the female mind.
This is big deal for some women writers. They even take classes for insight into the male mind.
Which boggles my mostly female, but somewhat male mind. Do these women know any men? Is the whole of their interaction with men confined to sex and witty, chick-flick-style banter?
Usually, the topic devolves into anecdotal evidence as to how alien men are. “OMG. All they think about is sex! And when they are alone, all they talk about is sex!”
Riiight. Because women are pure, virginal little creatures who never ever think about sex. No, we close our eyes, and let our brutish men have their way, while we think about shoe shopping. Sex is just something we suffer through because we are all dying to have babies. Babies! Squee!
The men in my life spend most of their time talking about politics, sports, the best microbrews, and motorcycle repair. The younger incarnation of my husband spent a lot of time on action movies, guns and … motorcycle repair. Recent topics, with one of his friends, include weight loss, pilates and yoga. It’s possible, on those rare occasions when my husband is absolutely sure I’m not around, that he launches into a lengthy treatise on tits and pussy. Given limitations of time and space, however, I doubt it.
“But,” protests the strangely sheltered woman, “Men belch and spit.”
Yeah. Women never do that. We also don’t shit or pee. Our waste products are magically eliminated by fairies. And our tender nethers never itch.
Are there biological differences between men and women? Well, sure, disparities in strength being the most notable. But we are humans, not mindless beasties driven solely by instinct. (Well, some of us.) We are amazing animals with opposable thumbs and the capacity to ponder abstract thought and our own mortality. I think that cancels out a lot gender-based predetermination.
“Men are less emotional,” protests another woman. “I know it for a fact, because my husband never says, ‘I love you.'”
Your husband is a twit. That doesn’t mean all men are twits.
“It’s like in Harry Potter, where Hermione tells Ron that he has the emotional depth of a thimble.”
Well, it’s true. Ron’s thick. But being thick isn’t a uniquely male attribute. If it were, then we wouldn’t need the word “bimbo.” (And for what it’s worth, if Hermione had just been honest about her feelings for Ron, knowing full well that he wasn’t terribly good at emotional clues, she could’ve avoided a lot of angst. Hermione is a teen, with all the expected insecurities, so her poor communication skills are excusable. But lashing out at your mate for your failure to communicate isn’t cute.)
Women are not some great well of emotions. Thanks to hormones, I get volatile, but the resulting lunacy shouldn’t be confused with emotional complexity. Bitchy is just bitchy.
If men don’t have emotions, why do we have war? Given that the usual suspects in the starting of said conflicts are male. Anger is an emotion, que no? And jealousy? Many a war has begun when one man coveted another’s … oil fields.
And ladies, how many of you have been annoyed by other women? All of you. “I can’t believe she said that to me. She knows that….” You know it’s true. Women can be just as clueless.
Perhaps it’s a function of our need to belong to a tribe. And when it comes to defining tribe, belonging is as much a function of shared traits, as it is our differences from an “other.” I’m Team Woman because I have a vagina and because I don’t have a penis. In some cases, the difference factor is the only shared characteristic among group members. I.e., “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.” Given that “War of the sexes” is a term used to describe gender relationships, that’s hardly hyperbole.
No, I’ll never know what it’s like to be a man. I also will never know what it’s like to be an upper-middle class white woman who grew up in the leafy suburbs of Chicago with her mom, dad and two sisters. In fact, I’m pretty sure that woman’s mind would be as alien to me as any man’s. The only commonality we share is anatomy.
There are certainly behavioral differences induced by cultural expectation. “Boys will be boys,” but girls must “Be nice.” People are slightly less appalled when a man scratches his balls in public than if a woman reaches into her bra and rearranges The Ladies. Those differences should be taken into account when building a character of any gender.
That said, I have read some dog-awful depictions of men in romance novels (penned by women). The kind of character building that calls to mind the animated movie Mulan. Mulan is the story of a young Chinese woman who disguises herself as a man and joins the army to fight the Huns and protect China.
On first entering the army camp, she struts, puffs her chest out and tries to “talk like a man.” Her fellow male soldiers think she’s a lunatic. It’s only when she stops trying so hard and acts like a human being, that she fits in.
That’s how some female author’s visions of men read to me. Weird, hyper-stylized, hyper-masculine and awkward. You can feel the writer struggling to “sound like a man,” when what they should be doing is trying to sound like the character.
Struggling with writing a character of the opposite gender? Chances are good that’s because you are writing just a man (or woman). Instead, write a human being. Someone with a backstory; someone with hopes; dreams; frustrations; insecurities, etc. You’re writing a love story. It’s not just about gender. It’s about two distinct, individual human beings falling in love and finding a way to stay together.
Write a person, not a gender, and your characters, male and female, will feel authentic.
