Nez Covington I Know Fellas (A Man’s Reply to Mary Lambert’s “Body Love”

I Know Fellas (A Man’s Reply to Mary Lambert’s “Body Love”) by nicholas gage garavaglia

i know fellas fighting so hard to be the tough guy, like John Bender in Breakfast Club.

i know fellas who are muscle fit, Polo Ralph Lauren, and performance enhancing drugs. there’s guys who question if they are ‘buff’ and Calvin Klienesque enough.

i know fellas flying planes into the temple of their body, pulling the trigger on their health. trying to appease the father voice in their head, still screaming at them over a lost little league game. no one tells little boys that one day they will be expected to look like superman, held hostage by a cartoon. it’s difficult to accept that we may never look like the front cover of a GQ mag, our entire generation of guys afraid to be themselves. what are we to do then?

Wasn’t it Fred Douglass who preached the simplicity of growing strong children as opposed to fixing broken men? we insist on digging our own graves for the shoulder workout because women love strong shoulders. we are playing with fire every time we take those “supplements”, trust me, i know how to stand in the locker room with pills and syringes.

i know the feeling but quitting will save you. you don’t have to go to war and kill and not cry, and drive fast, and claim emotionless sexual conquests. there are other ways to feel than opening your skin.

I know how the demons rage sometimes, their quarrels spill out through the slits you have provided them. your body was not meant to run on chemicals just as a car is not meant to run on Gatorade. sacrifice your life to say “this is what being a man means.” fighting so hard for father’s approval or a woman’s affection. tell us that our value as people is determined by our salaries or our muscle mass.

Are. We. Man. Enough. Yet? stop. put your fingers to your neck, feel your arteries. shave your face the way grandpa taught you, watch the whiskers dance as they circle the drain. trace the edge of your jaw with the back of your hand. smooth as the day your mother first fell in love with your cheeks. your body is breathtakingly complex and self sufficient.

you don’t have to exploit it in order to prove anything. no, dad, no. lean close to the mirror and look into your eyes, twisting, swirling color.

i once picked up a cracked river stone. one side was smooth but the other was jagged and broken. I wonder what it’s like to feel whole again.

i feel a river raging from my scars, the thunder of it is the most powerful thing i’ve ever heard… love yourself in all your forms, speak encouragement to little brother, keep his head up. know you are more important than your bench press max, more valuable than whatever expensive car you drive.

the women you hold company with do not determine your worth, your standing among other men. your masculinity is determined by your character, by fighting the river current until you are entirely smooth on every side again. complete.