The Gendered Component

My survival is in part due to my gender

I could self-congratulate, attributing my strength and resilience, character and self-reflection, as the only reasons why I survived and my brother did not.

But I know I would be deluding myself.

I wouldn’t be…being fair, and I would be hypocritical as a liberal arts and humanities professor, who always pushes for critical thinking.

The truth is also that I am *still* here because I am a woman.

True, I am a feminist. And I often point out the rampant sexism and misogyny, as well as the hardships of existing as a women in a patriarchal society, and the deeply sexist roots and ongoing present issues in America. It’s hard being a woman. It is true. In so many ways.

But—I still would choose to be a woman over a man because of the toxic masculinity that pervades our society.

Quite simply? Being a man seems brutal, and so fucking lonely.

I need, and I extend, but I do require a lot of emotional support. But, I am also allowed that. People do not regard me as less of a woman, they don’t question the integrity of my gender identity, because I need that. And because I am sensitive. And because I cry.

True, it comes with other costs, which I could discuss at length, but not now.

In terms of mental illness, and suicide survivor support, when you’re hurting and depressed, it is much easier to be a woman. To admit to being in pain. To needing help. It makes it all that much easier to ask for it.

Even if it’s not easy per se, after all, we *do* exist in a society where mental illness and mental health episodes are still stigmatized and seen as weaknesses, but—no one will accuse me or judge me as being less of a woman because I need help, support, because I cry, because I am in pain and because I am lonely.

My brother was not so fortunate.

My brother, Jeremie, was my only sibling, older than me by 6 1/2 years. He was impulsive, had ADD and/or ADHD, and had a very emotionally deprived relationship with our father, who—because of his alcoholism and probably his own trauma—was unable to provide him with the emotional support and outward displays of love, affection and acceptance that he so desperately needed.

I think this created a lot of deep insecurities and longing with my brother, that manifested in other, outward ways. (Ie—his need to seek fatherly approval from God, studying theology, and mastering scripture, and from my father who valued hunting and fishing. My brother became fanatic about guns and hunting equipment, overbuying and overspending in excessive amounts.)

So, when my brother and sister in law separated, he seemed to deteriorate. Undeniably a very hard time for anyone after 12+ years of marriage, but my brother crumbled. I remember him sobbing on the phone with me, “She’s the only person—other than mom—to ever really love me!”

Is this true? I doubt it.

But I also believe that he believed it. That is what he felt, what he knew.

At another point, he cried to me, “Sometimes it just feels like all I have left is my little girl!”

Since his death, many have commented on my brother’s soft heart and his sensitivity. I think they’re right. He was. And to be that and to also be a man, with all of what that meant—

— heterosexual male friendship, where bonding appears through conversations and displays of one-up-manship, with deeply ingrained messages of don’t display your (perceived as weak) feelings or show vulnerability.

—our father who couldn’t provide unconditional love and acceptance, and emotional availability because he didn’t have it himself…after numbing himself, self-medicating with alcohol for many, many years.

Even the ways that we were raised, I know, were very different. They were different because he was born when my mother was 25. I was born when she was 31. She had grown up a lot during that time period, and—I believe—had grown to accept realities of my father’s alcoholism and the effects that it had on her and would have, was having, on her kids.

As such, I was raised from a very young age, with her emphasizing to me again and again that I wouldn’t be able to get the love and support from my father that I craved, that I desperately sought. As such, I needed to look elsewhere, outside of the family. And to get that love and support from mentors, friends, others. Granted, this didn’t mean that that always happened. It was a learning process for me too. But she stressed that to me, for as long as I can remember. From a very early age.

I think she also did this because I was a girl. And she knew I was sensitive. She knew that an emotionally distant and unavailable father would have grave effects on me and consequences on how I lived my life, if I couldn’t move on beyond seeking his approval.

I do not believe that my brother ever really got that message, in the same way. I am confident she tried, that she conveyed that to him. But he also deeply identified with my father. They had things in common, and his approval was all the more important to him.

The heart-breaking part of this is that Jeremie so identified with my father that he handled his pain, his suffering, his depression, in the same way that my father did. I believe he self-medicated. And he exited as my father did, with a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head.

Is it my father’s fault? No. We are all responsible for our own actions, as adults.

But do I believe that Jeremie would have completed suicide if my father had not? No, I do not.

He took his examples in living life, in being a man, even in dying, largely as my father laid out for him.

If my father had been in a right state of mind (not under the influence of hard booze, pain killers, sleeping pills and anti-depressants) had known it would result in his son’s suicide, would he still have chosen to end his life in that way?

I don’t know. But I do not think so.

They were both white men, in rural areas, lower socio-economic status, both with access to arms. Statistically, they are the demographic most likely to complete suicide, and by that means.

Ijeoma Oluo in her recent book, Mediocrity: The Dangerous Legacy of White Male America, notes this ongoing problem. She writes:

“There were 47,713 suicides in 2017. Of those, 70 percent were white men, and the rate of white male suicides is rising. Across the country, people are mourning the losses of sons, fathers, husbands and friends who have chosen this particularly devastating way out.”

She also writes this: “White men who think they have been stolen from often taken that anger out on others. White men who think they are broken take the anger out on themselves.”

I think there are many many reasons for completing suicide, and not all are because of these, but I do think these do happen. And we ought to consider why so many white men.

Men do endure the hardships of toxic masculinity. By that I mean this:

Toxic masculinity involves many things, but one notion is that men aren’t supposed to have or to display deep feelings or hurt, or a range of human emotions. (Essentially, I believe this makes us not feminine, or weak, but human. Those without the ability to feel we consider sociopaths, the aberrant in society.)

But that doesn’t stop us form trying to beat these emotions, nay—this humanity, out of boys from a very young age. "

“Toughen up!”

“Be a man!”

“Boys don’t cry!”

The only emotions men are often “allowed” (in our toxic masculine society) to feel, without repercussions or assaults on their masculinity, are rage and lust.

No wonder many boys and men show only, or mainly, anger when…sad. When hurt. When lonely. When (insert whatever emotion here).

Our society has taught them that this is only what is available to them, without consequences or judgment. It is the only thing available or allowed to feel or outwardly show if they want to be a real man and to not be a girl, a pussy, etc.

And they have learned it very, very well. (Perhaps only then to be told by their partners to open up their feelings and emotions to them…after they have been perhaps told by a lot of society/culture to hide them—what a confusing mixed message!)

Many have learned this so well, in fact, that many go to very extreme measures to cover up their emotions, to not feel. Through very unhealthy and deeply destructive means: through drugs, alcohol, sex, escapism, isolation, other addictions, etc.

During my brother’s final months, he often vacillated between desperation and deep sadness and depression with extreme, irrational, volatile anger (perhaps the latter as another learned behavior/coping mechanism learned from my father).

My brother’s story, while devastating, is even more heart-wrenching because it speaks to a much greater problem in our society—

The need for emotional support and help available for men who are going through mental health crises and mental illnesses is deep and vast and pervasive.

Everyone requires emotional help and support from time to time. Especially those of us who are in a major depressive episode and inclined to consider suicide.

White men indeed aren’t the only people at risk. There are numbers to support that trans individuals and BIPOC individuals are also at greater risk of depression and suicide attempts. And indeed, we should pay attention to why this demographic struggles as well, their unique struggles because of their identities.

But I don’t think we’re doing enough to help boys and men in their need for emotional support and mental health help. And they need help too. And that’s okay. It doesn’t make them any less of a man.

To need help and emotional support does not make you less of a man. I would argue it shows much greater strength to run against this common teaching, the grain of society, refusing to buy into this toxic masculine message and to, instead, teach your sons differently.

But I also know that I am a woman and I don’t bear the same lonely and shaming consequences in refusing to conform to those gendered stereotypes.

We need to do better to broadcast and engrave this message in the thumbprint of our society; otherwise, we will continue to see the harmful effects of not offering emotional support to men and boys in need.

And I believe/research shows it manifests through domestic violence, addictions, dysfunctional families and relationships, depression, anger, and suicides.

So, yes, I know. I KNOW:

I also am a suicide survivor because I am a woman and I am allowed, forgiven, for my need for help and displays of emotion.

We really, collectively, need to do better. Our men and boys deserve it. Let’s not continue to send harmful messages that boys are weak if they need emotional support, help, or counseling through depression.

And lest we think this is hyperbole, it’s not.

I really do believe, from my own family experience—Men’s lives depend on it.

Because the truth is—There are countless other Jeremies out there.