Manly Lunches and the Masculine Mystique

Dear you,

Bill and Jackie are from Wisconsin.  They are adorable snowbirds who spend a month or two in Seagrove Beach every winter.  Friendly, attractive, and positive, they are the perfect visitors, a relief from what is to come in March.  Today, returning from my routine Publix run, I saw Bill grilling in the little grotto under the magnolia tree.  It’s cloudy and nasty-chilly, but Bill is undeterred.  He is grillin’ chicken for darling Jackie, and he is the man!  Me, on the other hand, am not the man. I am eating donuts for lunch.  I think there’s protein in the icing.  I am staying inside with my central heat and post-donut sugar rush. Such a “girly” thing to do.

Men grill protein.  Outside. This is masculine.

Women consume donuts. Inside. This is feminine.

Neither is true.  It is an individual thing.  Yet, even in 2021, we still play with masculine-feminine cliches, and sometimes our debates over what defines what are hysterically funny.  Take yesterday.  A Fox Cable News anchor asked the national press secretary for the Trump campaign if Donald felt “emasculated” after being banned from his beloved social media platforms.  Secretary Gidley responded weirdly, asserting Trump is “the most masculine person” to “ever hold the White House.” 

Gidley is obviously pimping for his boss. But Trump, “masculine”?  I just don’t get it.  Donald Trump is outside any identifiable gender cliches. In fact, he is sort of asexual and blobby.  He fits none of the masculine assumptions:

Masculine assumption one – Men are muscular and athletic.  Check NO for Donald.

Masculine assumption two – Men respect women and defend their honor.  Check NO for Donald.

Masculine assumption three – Men stand up for the underdog.  Check NO for Donald.

Masculine assumption four – Men love the outdoor life and animals.  Big NO for Donald.

Masculine assumption five – Men don’t care about gossip.  Check NO for Donald, for sure.

There is all that. Plus, I am pretty sure he has no idea what a grill is.  There might have been a picture of one on his Trump Steaks label, but that would be as close as he ever came to that macho cooking method.

I don’t want to promote whatever the “masculine” mystique is, but in defense of anything positive associated with that label, I must refute Gidley.  Trump is the opposite of "the man".  He is orange.  He is scared.  He is sadistic.  He is powerful but brutally stupid.  He will always be remembered like this:

A big baby full of hot air and killer instincts, the most UNMASCULINE man to ever "hold the White House" hostage.

Enough!

Time for lunch.  I am going to defy all gender labels and go GRILL MY DONUTS!

Love,

Joyce