Another story about masculinity
I worked with kids and lived in a fairly rough part of St Louis for awhile. A lot of boys on the verge of becoming men, some of them violent men. A lot of boys pretty scared. A lot of boys with no dad. A lot of hopeless boys. A lot of angry boys. A lot of beautiful boys, curious boys, boys that wanted to be loved hard and fierce but didn’t even know what to ask for.
There was one boy, he was one of the most aggressive. Always starting fights. He was pretty big, they weren’t just fights out of self-defense, some of them were straight up bullying and attacking weakness. His nickname, of all things, was Pooh. Okay mostly it was Poohman, but he preferred Pooh. As in Winnie. I think because he had Winnie the Pooh sheets on his bed that he couldn’t sleep without.
(It is rare to have a boy dangerous and feared enough that he can be known for needing to sleep with his Winnie the Pooh bed sheets without being torn apart for it. That can wear it as a badge of honor.)
One day Pooh flashed a gun he had grabbed from somewhere, an older brother maybe, at the other kids, to show off, and my heart ached. Some of these kids, these boys I love, who I have taught how to use a hammer and fix their bike, some of them could be dead by a similar gun before they are my age, a similar gun carried by a similar boy, and I know it and they know it and none of us can change it, not really, not today.
Another day, I had pretty much kicked everyone out to go home for the night and Pooh was being an jerk. Breaking shit. Ignoring me. Telling me to fuck off. He had punched like 2 kids earlier that day. I told him to go home. Angrily. Go home. He didn’t leave.
“Come on Pooh, get out of here, I’m tired and you need to go home NOW.”
A long pause. A small voice. Smaller than I have ever heard it.
“Eric? Can you walk me back to my house? I’m scared of the dark.”
My heart is filled with utter compassion. There is nothing I would rather do than protect this boy from the darkness inside of him which he didn’t put there in the first place.
“Yes Pooh, I can walk you back to your house.”
“Can you give me a piggyback ride?”
“Yes Pooh, I can give you a piggyback ride.”
In the yard, on my back, under the night sky he whispers in my ear. “It’s so beautiful to be out here in the moonlight.”
“I know Poohman, I know. The beauty of it is breaking my heart.”