A few days ago, in the midst of a bedtime routine, I offered my seven year-old daughter a chance to pick an educational video to watch.
She’d been asking me questions like “why do cars need oil?” and “can roaches fly?” —not my areas of expertise.
Instead of taking me up on the educational video offer, she asked, “what if we watched a video where someone is playing music?”
“You mean a music video?” I asked, feeling instantly nostalgic for growing up with MTV during my elementary school years, when it was 90% music videos all day long.
From within that nostalgic state, a quiet, bedtime-appropriate song emerged in my memory—More than Words by Extreme…
We cuddled on the couch, my son joining us since, after all, anything on a phone is more exciting than real life.
And this music video from 1991 began to wash over us.
Crisp, black and white footage. The angelic, gentle tones of men singing a ballad in the vein of Simon & Garfunkel, which I had heard my father play over and over.
It had been years since I heard the song. And I wondered why as the melody and the voices embraced me.
I felt captivated by how captivated my son and daughter seemed to be. I felt the pride of choosing another side of men to introduce them to. They see the goofy or the rough and tough side of men everywhere else.
Half-way through the song, my daughter spoke up…
“When is this going to end?” she said.
Instantly, an archaic shame crept into my psyche.
Something in me from the time I first heard the song at age 17. A time in my life when I did not have friends—I was a complete loner in high school. While the other boys had cliques, and parties, and drinking, and girls… I was left with feelings of not fitting in. Being too sensitive. Being too soft. Unclear about how to express my needs.
In essence, everything the song celebrated: Sensitivity. Softness. A clear expression of needs.
I recall watching that music video as a boy and having competing feelings of fascination for these men pouring their hearts out in a grounded way. Not hiding behind music or flashy video effects.
Just a small studio. An acoustic melody. And two male voices expressing that they longed for and needed expressions of love from their partners that showed love. Something more than simply hearing the words ‘I love you.’
Male tenderness.
And on the other hand, as a boy, I also experienced the feelings of rejecting the song with thoughts like:
“It's not okay to like this music.”
“This song is cheesy.”
“These guys are too sensitive for MTV.”
Keeping those tender qualities that were natural to me at bay as I rejected them in others.
Back on the couch with my kids, I paused the video and asked my daughter about her dislike, not sure what to expect.
Turns out the black and white images were a turn off. She was missing the color. This from a girl who has painted and drawn more rainbows than any other subject. So, the critique suits her perfectly.
I asked my son if he liked the song.
“Mmm hmmm,” he responded, ready to keep listening. And my heart warmed a bit.
My 4-year old son is a quintessential rough and tumble, goofy, all body expression and non-stop talking, 100% yang energy ALL DAY LONG from the moment he pops out of bed before anyone else in the house kind-of-boy.
The kind who’s energy at times reminds me of the boys who rejected me in middle and high school.
So to experience him accepting this song landed well with me. The song embodies a tenderness he needs to know exists in men beyond the stories of good guy heroes that vanquish bad guys. Even if he may not claim that quality for himself until later—but hopefully, not too much later.
Boys in Schools
I’m aware of how boys who get aggressive and reject others are feeling rejected themselves. And in what I’ve seen, the rejection is often coming from within the education system itself. From teachers who are well-intentioned but poorly equipped to meet the needs of boys.
I believe this system needs to find curiosity and humility by seeking support from those who are skilled at helping boys identify their own compassionate selves. In other words, the bullies don’t need more consequences. They need to be shown that they are capable of love, of sensitivity, of compassion for other human beings—perhaps beginning with self-compassion.
And I empathize with teachers—it’s not their fault. The system they exist in encourages tamping down on boy energy rather than exploring the range of humanity in a boy that is yearning to express and be seen. Let me add that in my father role, I struggle with the balance of consequences and offering grace—as
puts it, the times I close my heart to my son and the times I open my heart to him. Boys need to be met with open hearts at home and at school. Becoming aggressive or displaying bully-like behavior is akin to a cry for help.I’ve heard of several boys in my community in the Portland, OR area having to hop between schools because their “boy” energy was unacceptable—i.e. the schools didn’t have interventions within the school setting that could address them as full human beings.
If you’re a bully and you’ve never been shown that tenderness exists inside of you, then you might posture and wear a tough guy mask as long as you live. Even if it gets you kicked out of school. Even if it kills you.
What Interventions are Working?
When speaking to problems, I believe in highlighting effective solutions that already exist. Let’s look…
My friend, Ashanti Branch, brings the work of ‘Taking Off the Mask’ to boys in school settings, including where youth violence exists. Ashanti, known for his work as a principal in Oakland, CA (and featured in the film, The Mask You Live In) started an afterschool club providing a safe space for young men to share and support each other. The boys experience themselves as capable of being seen and appreciated, while seeing and appreciating their peers. He turned this practice into a non-profit organization called the Ever Forward Club.
Thankfully, his organization is not the only one capable of supporting boys in school.
Recently, while watching the Transformational Power of Male Compassion conference online, I heard a very touching story from Mary Gordon, the Founder/President of Roots of Empathy.
Mary’s organization facilitates an experience for school children ages 5–13 to learn empathy by encountering a baby in the classroom throughout the school year. The boys and girls are guided by a trained instructor to learn about vulnerability and the humanity of a baby and also given a chance to answer questions like:
What do you think the baby is feeling right now?
When have you felt like that before?
This program creates changes for the children as they hear about the internal experiences of their classmates and share their own. And for some, it is their first encounter with their own vulnerability and tenderness as they relate to the visiting baby.
Mary says, “we see the biggest changes in the boys who are most alienated, or most aggressive, or bullies.”
On one occasion, there was a boy in an 8th grade class who had witnessed the murder of his mother when he was a child. And everyone who would have otherwise been a support to him was either in jail or otherwise unavailable. So he had been cast from foster home to foster home all his life.
Mary explains, “His way of protecting himself was to look very aggressive. He had shaved the back of his head, had a pony tail on the top, and a tattoo on the back of his head. This was the late 90’s—young kids did not do that back then…
“He arrived in grade eight in the Roots of Empathy program and initially he didn’t connect with the baby. In one class, the mother asked the class, would anyone like to try on the baby carrier?
“This boy said he would like to try it on and everyone was amazed. He was then presented with the baby and the instructor asked if he would like to put the baby in the carrier. He said ‘yes’ and the mother looked mildly horrified.
“The mother had just explained that she wanted a cuddly baby but she got a very independent baby who only wants to face out in the carrier and didn’t want to snuggle.
“He puts the baby chest to chest and the baby molded to him. He went off to the corner and put his arms around the baby. He was doing the seasick rock that he watched the mother do—and this is a boy who had no mother.
“He came back a few minutes later and passed the baby gently back to the mother. Then he said to the Roots of Empathy instructor, ‘Do you think that if no one has ever loved you, that you could still be a good father?’
“For him, there was a big switch. He suddenly saw himself as a human being who, although he hadn’t experienced love, believed he could love.”
🥲
When I heard that story I was so touched that I didn’t just tear up—I cried.
While I don’t know if my young son will feel rejected by the framework of school and exhibit bully behavior as he grows older, I do worry for him and his peers. The best I can do is be aware of, promote, and, if needed, demand evidence-based solutions that may need to come from outside the school system.
These interventions are low-risk, preventative approaches that get to the root heart of the matter.
What’s worth fighting for?
Looking back at my life, I don’t fault any of the boys who bullied me in my youth. I have played a version of that game in my life, upholding the idea that weakness in others was an opportunity to display my own dominance.
Being bullied scarred me, yes. But it also provided me with a journey into my own tenderness through men’s work and writing and drawing my way through catharsis. So much so that I enjoy telling others about my sensitivity today.
Publicly : )
As for Extreme, the band that sang More Than Words in the 90’s—turns out they weren’t just sensitive ballad singers. This song was distinct from their typical music and yet they fought to get the folksy ballad released by their record label.
Guitarist Nuno Bettencourt said, “I threatened to stop touring and quit the band if they wouldn’t release it. I was such a pain in the ass about it that management and the label finally agreed to test the song in a market. They told me, ‘We don’t think it’s gonna do anything,’ but they paid a station in Phoenix to spin it three times on a Monday. The next day, my manager called and said, ‘Don’t get too excited, but it came in top nine in Phoenix.’ The next day it climbed higher, and by the end of the week it was almost number one. And they still refused to release it. They tested it in another market and the same thing happened. It was a real fight to get the song out there.”
More than Words “was a number one hit in the United States, where it was certified gold, as well as in Belgium, Canada, the Netherlands and New Zealand.”
I only discovered this backstory recently as I prepped to write this piece. And how satisfying it is to hear that these band members felt that a display of unapologetic male tenderness is something worth fighting for.
I couldn’t agree more.
References:
Behind the Song: “More Than Words,” Extreme by Rick Moore
More than Words — Wikipedia
Founded in 2004, the Ever Forward Club mentors underserved youth in middle and high school by providing them with safe, brave communities that build character and transform lives. Their mission is to address the underlying causes of drop out rates, youth violence, and the growing achievement gap through mentoring and social emotional development.
The ‘Transformational Power of Male Compassion’ conference was hosted on July 12th by Daniel Ellenberg, the founder of the Men and Boys Compassion Initiative (MBCI). The MBCI is co-creating an international movement to help men and boys cultivate their compassionate selves to heal the male crisis of disconnection. Daniel was my men’s group leader from 2004–2010. I’ve since had the pleasure of advising him on the MBCI’s intentions and messaging.
Roots of Empathy is an evidence-based classroom program that started in Toronto, Canada. The program consists of guided observations of an infant's development and emotions by elementary school children. The project began in 1996, and was established by Mary Gordon, a Canadian social entrepreneur and educator.
BY THE WAY: The subtitle for my upcoming book, Hiding Inside a Man has been chosen—Finding Strength in Self-Compassion. Thank you to all of you who helped me through that decision by offering feedback in the poll, commenting, or emailing. It means a lot to me 🙏
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I fondly remember that song but didn't know what band it was. Even before getting to the end of this article I clicked through to the rest of their channel from the video at the top and was delighted to discover that they are actually a heavy metal band, with a few tender songs mixed in. It was fun to read the backstory. I appreciate your takeaway that tenderness is something worth fighting for. And now I have a great band to binge listen!
Congrats on the subtitle Matthew! It’s fantastic. 💞