“ Write an essay somehow inspired by super-huge mustard.”
Of all the topics we considered when putting together this blog challenge, the super-huge mustard was the one that gave me the most trouble. No single idea resonated with me completely. I thought about writing from the perspective of a futuristic scientist or space commander who had discovered a massive quantity of mysterious yellow goop. Forced to find a use for this tangy, spicy substance, the scientist-commander would decide to bottle it and sell it as a foodstuff. (Soylent yellow is people! Yes, I considered it.)
I also thought about writing an essay that revolved around Grey Poupon TV ads from the 1980s. A wealthy man being driven around in a luxury vehicle would scroll down his car window and speak to a similarly well-dressed man in another car. Excuse me, sir, would you have any Grey Poupon? No? How about gray coupons? No? Would you happen to have a finely aged poodle thereabouts, then, good sir? I discarded that idea quickly.
I finally settled on writing a short stylistic biography about Colonel Mustard as a young man. The Secret Life of Colonel Mustard, I wanted to call it. (By stylistic, I mean the Colonel Mustard I envisioned was a pompous windbag. Get it? "Super-huge" Mustard?) This explains the graphic I created to accompany my essay.
Well, this essay is about none of those ideas above. I noticed something belatedly that seemed more suited to a personal essay.
Since age 15 or so, I have written almost exclusively from the male point of view or have populated my writing with male protagonists. It’s not intentional. When I’m in a story, I usually see the world through a boy or a man’s eyes, though that male may not be stereotypically male. (If I were to replace all the pronouns with “she” and “her,” I think these characters’ thoughts and behavior would still ring true—with certain exceptions for experiences that are exclusively feminine, of course.)
All of the protagonists in the scenarios I described above could have been female. But automatically, I put myself in the body of a male.
Is my inner writer a man? Is writing from a female perspective too personal? Is writing from a masculine viewpoint my way of trying to understand men? (There were certainly many moments in my teenage years, and yes, even in my young adult years, where I puzzled over things they did or said.) Or do I actually identify with men more easily than I do women?
To answer this question, I examined my few female characters. Worried that they’re too stereotypically female, I react against that, having them take on traditionally male jobs or behaviors. As a person who likes to go against the grain, I wanted to challenge others’ expectations of what these women would do. But these attempts to turn women into nonconformists seemed superficial, hardly authentic. They also became too defined by these showy moments of “Look, I’m not a stereotype!” and got lost in them. Not good.
How do I feel when I write from a male viewpoint? After spending a period writing (and seeing the world) from male eyes, I often feel like I’m turning into a man. I also wonder if my male protagonists are “too feminine” in their thoughts and behavior. Do I need to have them “man up,” so to speak? These cognitions carry with them an entirely different set of questions about gender roles, societal expectations, and personal prejudices. Why not have a male character who is less macho? We know from past research in psychology that men and women are more similar than we think, and that traits we normally assign to women (e.g., being romantic, falling in love first) actually describe men more than they do women. Are we selling men short by not allowing them to be warm, caring beings?
After considering these questions, I’ve concluded that writing from a male perspective serves many purposes for me. I do use it as a way to help myself understand men. Simultaneously, it is also a way to distance myself from the character’s thoughts and behavior, i.e., it is a less personal experience.
But here’s the problem. If I say I’m trying to understand men by writing from “the” male perspective, I’ve fallen in precisely the same trap of stereotyping I was trying to avoid. I can really only understand that given person’s motivations and perspectives, not all men’s, through the viewpoints I adopt in my work.
Did you enjoy my essay? Check out my fellow challengers' essays below. Better yet, join us and write your own!
Challenger Susan
Challenger Elizabeth
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