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Key points
- Social media memes claiming Tim Walz is an example masculinity without toxicity are just wishful thinking.
- The VP picks are engaged in a typical game of so-called "alpha male" one-upmanship.
- Tim Walz offers the same old strong man image, but in contrast, it's refreshingly kindhearted.
- This election could be an opportunity to break the intergenerational cycle of patriarchal trauma.
The memes are everywhere. As are the magazine think pieces arguing that fatherhood is on the ballot this coming November. So many people cite vice presidential candidate Tim Walz as an example of masculinity without toxicity. But they’re all wrong.
Governor Walz’s hunting-cap manhood is so average it’s boring. Likewise, his fix-it-up fatherhood persona is straight out of an episode of Bob Vila. Nothing about him challenges well-worn gender tropes.
Nonetheless, Kamala Harris knocked this one out of the park. Walz has the crowd on their feet and he’s destroying the MAGA right at their own game of alpha-dodgeball.
Look at the gridiron. Trump charges forward with the “Tampon Tim” nickname. This is an authentic example of locker room talk. Every boy that’s ever been through middle school gym class is familiar with menstruation slurs. We know how masculinity works: boys build themselves up by feminizing others. The “stolen valor” accusations are from the same playbook. They have nothing to do with allegiance to country. They’re meant to call courage into question by casting doubt on one’s metaphorical penis size. But they come up short, too.
Trump and Vance can’t buy a bucket. Walz keeps scoring the old-fashioned way, borrowing banal imagery from Hollywood’s high-school teen movie canon. He plays the benevolent jock, wielding his white guy privilege and football coach machismo to form an alliance with the marginalized queer kids. It’s admirable and praiseworthy, but there’s nothing fresh to see here. Charlie Sheen played that part in Lucas (1986).
The left is just latching onto a fantasy of subverted gender norms because we don’t yet have the framework to acknowledge what’s unique about Walz’s brand of masculinity. For decades, sitcoms have limited our choices. They’ve represented the good dad as a buffoon—Homer Simpson, Phil Dunphy, Al Bundy, Dan Connor. Now Walz’s plainspoken combination of brains and brawn challenges us to look a little closer, distinguish kindness from malevolence and compassion from avarice.
He also comes to the plate with a model of fatherhood that’s introspective and accountable. Forget father knows best! Walz is certainly not perfect; he exemplifies some of the worst man-tropes, reinforcing gender essentialist stereotypes. But with his “mind your own damn business” soundbites, he also lets us know that he’s committed to breaking the cycle of intergenerational trauma. Let’s hope the United States is ready to follow his lead.
I’m trying. Like all dads, I have been a bad father at times. I’ve reproduced the domineering will-to-power that is a taken-for-granted characteristic of patriarchal manhood. I have hurt my own children because I couldn’t see my fragile ego coasting into a blind spot. That’s not easy for me to write, to admit I’ve botched the play. I’m supposedly a parenting expert. “Good Dad” is my brand. So much so that when a certain ex-spouse really wants to twist the knife, they say, “Why don’t you try being more of a Father Figure, isn’t that the name of one of your books?” Ouch.
In my defense, all men are socialized to believe in virtuous anger; every action movie is an incantation of righteous violence. The image of an almost-abusive hero-masculinity garners acclaim everywhere you look. We’ve all suffered its consequences. And even the best of us have replicated it to some degree. So many fathers embark on their own gallant quest to keep from passing the agony of competitive boyhood comradery and domineering dad authority onto their children. That’s the shared experience they talk about in men’s groups, at fatherhood conferences, and on “warrior retreats.”
Unfortunately, we all fumble sometimes. No, much of the time. It’s not okay, but it’s understandable. The bigger problem is that all those years of childhood tampon taunts frightened men into mistakenly believing that unforced errors equal weakness. So, we line up our offense and claim that by causing distress we were just “building character.” It’s always easier to fortify our game than to submit to the tribulations of self-reflection.
Author Liz Plank said as much in the days immediately following the GOP convention. “The Republican ticket is like a walking billboard for men who don’t go to therapy,” she quipped on CNN’s The Source with Kaitlin Collins. It was funny. But it wasn’t a joke. Walz makes that apparent. He shows us that America is like a bad dad who desperately needs to continue the project of acknowledging our ghosts and exorcising our demons: misogyny, racism, homophobia, etc. Everyone is in pain, and all the so-called real men need to hurry up and grow a pair. There’s no potency in denial.
The pundits have it all wrong. Walz and Vance don’t offer distinct images of manhood, but rather two of the same. The difference is in how they confront the lingering effects of intergenerational trauma. One wants to grab his tool belt, patch up the foundation, and build something better. The other wants to disavow the weaknesses and erect a house of cards.
