‘Soul on Ice’ and conceptualising black masculinity
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CW: mention of sexual abuse
Yesterday, I read an article about sexual abuse amongst Nigerian men. These are not the easiest pieces to read. But at the same time, these are not the kinds of stories one often comes across, particularly when you consider the shame and respectability politics that govern Nigerian culture. All things considered, it was an insightful yet saddening read. Interestingly, it got me thinking about how I understand masculinity and specifically black masculinity in general.
I recently finished bell hook’s We Real Cool and it helped me start to understand the foundations of black masculinity in the West in ways in which I had never previously considered. Off the back of that, I’m now reading Eldridge Cleaver’s Soul On Ice to see more deeply into the mind of the impassioned Black Panther activist and writer.
My motivations behind wanting to understand more about black masculinity are varied. The first is the fact that while I have a fairly multi-faceted understanding of ‘blackness’ as a British-Nigerian American woman, it can only go so far because I am a woman. The way in which concepts of blackness intersect with masculinity is an important subject matter. More importantly, they inform the lived realities of many of the people I stand with when I say that Black Lives Matter.
The second and consequent factors lie within the fact that as an all-girls’ school attendee, with no male siblings and majority female cousins, I had a limited view of black masculinity in my early adolescence. I have black male acquaintances, but not many I would call friends. This isn’t a concern of mine, but I think it does limit what I understand of black masculinity to a very pigeon-holed scope.
I think it’s important to gain an understanding of black masculinity outside of the parameters of what I encounter in my surroundings and that which is portrayed in the media. There was a point at which I began losing ‘hope’ for black men. (Can I say that? I’m saying it anyway.) From the elementary age colourism that seemed to ripen well into young adult years to the passivity in the face of racial injustice to the misogynoir to the neocapitalist ideologies…I was kind of over it.
It goes without saying, but there is much more to black masculinity than that.
(As an aside, I’m using the term ‘black masculinity’ over just ‘black men’ because of course, no black man is the same. But also, the way I see it black manhood is a lived experience that cannot really be conceptualised. Whereas, black masculinity is a range of factors and influences that inform and guide that experience.
You could read every sociological, political, or economic theory in the world and they’d do well in conceptualising the patterns, histories, and social evolutions of human civilisation. But, none of them could truly tell you how to be human. In the same way, none of these books will ever give me the full picture of what it means to be a black man.)
Just as a lot of black men would benefit greatly from reading more black female authors, I could also benefit from the authorship of a diverse range of black men. What I gain from their works will aid me in understanding the black community around me better, even if their conclusions are not agreeable with my own politics.
Of course, I know that these texts and any consequent books I read will never be comprehensive of the black male experience in the West or in any other country for that matter. But, they will help me begin to understand black masculinity beyond what I currently know and have experienced.
In my opinion, there is no way to believe in and work towards the betterment of the black community without also understanding the plight of the black man. It’s futile to denounce the shortcomings of black masculinity without making the space to at least begin to understand why it is the way that it is.
I guess what I’m getting at is that I’m trying to be more open towards understanding black masculinity and what informs black male behaviour. Admittedly, I’m probably late to the party as I have not always been the most sympathetic towards black men. The apathy, dismissiveness, and wilful ignorance that I have sometimes encountered from my peers, particularly in white spaces, have been jarring. But, again, there’s (typically) more to the story and I intend to at least read the first few pages.
